“Gabriel?”
I spun around to find Ronan standing by the kitchen island, his dark brows in a quizzical twist above those startling blue eyes.
“Sorry. All set?” I brushed past him and dropped my keys and phone into the zipped side pocket of my sweats. “Make sure you take water.”
“Yeah, sure. Where’re we heading?”
“Hudson River Park. The trail is one of the best, and you can’t beat the view.” The stunning vista of the river would give me something to look at besides Ronan.
“I’ve never been, so lead the way.”
We exited the building, and I settled my baseball cap on my head and pointed west. “We’ll head to Twelfth Avenue and get on at Eighteenth Street. The trail goes all the way to Battery Park, but we don’t have to go that far. It’s not a long run, but it can wear you out if you’re not used to it.”
“Pfft. I can handle it. Spent most of my time in prison at the gym, when I wasn’t working in the cafeteria.”
We talked as we walked and soon reached the entrance to the trail and began a steady jog. Normally I ran this alone, which, when I’d first started working for Ronan, left me too much time in my head to once again try and figure out why DJ hadn’t wanted me enough to stand up to his father. Hearing that Dan had paid off his own son to keep his sexuality in the closet was bad enough. Knowing that DJ had accepted it and would’ve done as his father wished and gotten married made it worse. Being cheated on was just an added, ugly bonus.
But lately I hadn’t wasted too much time thinking about DJ. Like the nights, my early morning runs found me twisted up in Ronan Michaels and his increasingly tempting presence. Now that I’d discovered his secret, I wasn’t sure how to handle it. Or him.
At around the two-mile mark, the sun’s rays were already beaming down on us. People sometimes didn’t realize that the morning air might be cool, but your body temperature still rose, causing you to sweat. I’d thought to bring a hat, but Ronan hadn’t. He jogged a few paces ahead of me, and I couldn’t blame my sudden light-headedness on the heat. The thin running shorts cupped his ass, emphasizing the strong flex of his gluteal muscles with each stride. It mesmerized me. My vow to remain strong in my conviction to not think of Ronan sexually was blown to hell, and I couldn’t look away.
This was turning out to be a terrible idea.
After another half mile, the patch of sweat on his shirt had grown substantially, and concerned, I increased my pace, bringing myself to his side. “We can take a break if you want.”
Red-faced, Ronan shook his head, and I allowed it to continue for several more minutes until I noticed he’d started breathing heavily. “Ronan. Come on. We’ve already done two and a half miles. Take a break, and then we’ll turn around for another two and a half home.”
Stubborn bastard that he was, he kept running. I had to physically take him by the elbow, forcing him to stop. He shook off my hand but stopped and bent over, drawing in deep breaths.
“Wh-why’d you stop me?” he gasped, and I put my hand on his shoulder to steady him.
“Because, dumbass. You’re out of breath. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but you don’t have to keep pushing yourself.”
Recovered, he glared at me but was at least smart enough to get off the trail and lean on a bench. “I’ve got nothing to prove to you.”
“I wasn’t talking about me. Sometimes we think we have something to prove and challenge ourselves to the point where it becomes detrimental. Mental overexertion can be the downfall of people as much as physical. You’re allowed to take it slow. I’m not putting pressure on you.”
He opened his mouth but shook his head and gulped some water instead. “Should we head back?”
I squinted at my watch. “Yeah. We’ll get home a bit after seven, which will give me enough time to shower and change to be ready for eight.”
Ronan jogged in place and scowled at me. “I’m not keeping you on a clock.”
I didn’t answer and began a slow jog to return to the apartment. I’d told Ronan the night before that he didn’t really need me living there, and I meant it. It looked like he wanted me there for company more than protection. Did I push that and leave what was probably the easiest job ever, or did I say fuck it and wait until he told me to leave? Or, did I talk to him about what I’d heard?
And then there was that damn attraction I kept battling. I had no clue what to do about it.
I wrestled with those questions on the way home and had no answers by the time I was soaping myself in the shower. I’d just rinsed the shampoo out of my hair and stood under the spray, enjoying it, when I heard the door to my bedroom open. I turned off the water and stepped onto the bathmat.
“Someone out there?” I pulled a towel to me and rubbed the water out of my hair.
“Yeah, me.” At the sound of Ronan’s voice, my heartbeat rocketed to warp speed. What the hell was he up to?
“I’ll be out in a second. Let me get dressed first.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.” The door banged open, and there he stood, bare-chested, water droplets still gleaming on his shoulders from his own shower, in gray sweats that should be registered as a lethal weapon to my sanity.
“Uh, Ronan, I’m not dressed. What the hell is going on?” Naked and still wet, I backed away from him until I hit the cold tile wall.
