I’m here to fix that.
But as I wonder what kind of kid Joshua was, thoughts of Claire seep in. Where did he take her on their first date? Did he kiss her goodnight? Did hemorethan kiss her?
I shouldn’t be thinking about any of these things. Shouldn’t feel anything remotely close to jealousy when thinking about my son and his ex. But I can’t ignore the flash of something raw and uninvited that burns through me at the idea of Joshua being able to hold Claire’s hand as they stroll down Main Street in the snow. Or huddle up beneath a blanket as they watch an outdoor movie by the town green. Or share a quiet dinner overlooking the idyllic lake.
Because I can never do these things with her.
It’s a surprising thought, since I’ve never cared to do those things with any woman. My career has been my focus, all my relationships short-lived and meaningless. It’s easier that way.
Safer.
But in one night, Claire managed to make me want things I never thought I would.
I pick up the pace, my breath turning ragged as my feet hit the pavement. Harder. Faster. Anything to drown out my thoughts of Claire. I’m here to be a father. That’s the only thing that counts. Getting to know my son. Not getting tangled up with the one woman in this town I have no business wanting.
I repeat that like a mantra as I continue running down street after street before eventually winding my way back toward my temporary home.
But when I turn the corner onto the street, I slam directly into someone.
Claire.
Of course.
I catch her by the hips, steadying her before she can stumble. The heat of her skin burns through her clothes, and for a moment, I forget everything I just promised myself.
She’s dressed in a pair of dark running shorts that barely cover the tops of her thighs and a long-sleeved shirt that hugs every damn curve.
Her lips are parted, breath coming fast, and there’s that look again. The one that makes me think she’s picturing the same thing I am. My mouth on hers. My hands sliding under her shirt. My teeth nipping at her skin, marking her as mine.
I should step back.
I don’t.
Not until I realize my thumb is still pressed to her hip, stroking lightly as if it has a mind of its own.
I quickly let go, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“We really need to stop running into each other like this,” I say to break the tension.
She blinks, and a quick, nervous smile tugs at her mouth. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Audiobook.” She points to her earbuds.
I wonder what kind of book she’s listening to. Is it a thriller? Literary fiction? Maybe something historical?
I don’t know her well enough to be familiar with her taste in books, but a part of me likes the idea of her listening to a romance novel. When she gets to the steamier parts, would she put me in the hero’s place? Would she fantasize about me doing all those things to her?
“I was sort of somewhere else, too. Lost in thought, I guess.”
She doesn’t press for more information. Just keeps her gaze trained on me, the tension mounting with every damn heartbeat.
Finally, she clears her throat. “I should finish my run so I can get to work.”
“Right. Of course.” I step back, giving her space.
She jogs past me, her scent invading my senses as she goes, floral and soft. Reminding me yet again of our one night together.
I shouldn’t look back. Should keep walking forward.
But lately I’ve been making a habit out of doing things I shouldn’t.
