Page 13 of A Simple Love

He said he would find another place, but the truth was, I didn’t want him to. Maybe his staying here would give us a chance to mend some of the hurt of those years ago. It might help both of us.

If I were honest with myself, I didn’t want him to think I was a sarcastic, uncaring person. I wasn’t. I cared too much most of the time, which always got me in trouble. Maybe if we spent a little time together, he would think more kindly of me.

Perhaps we could even be friends.

I sighed as I stood and headed back to the kitchen to start making some pies.

Friends with Oliver Hart.

That was something I would never have imagined wanting a mere twenty-four hours ago.

Yet, now, I wanted it badly.

A few hours later, I had a dozen pies cooling on the counter. Tomorrow, I would make another six, plus a special order for Quinn for her catering business. I planned on making the pastry for all of them later, so it could chill overnight and the pie-making would go faster.

I pulled out four small pies, adding them to the cooling area. Two were blueberry, which I knew to be Oliver’s favorite. He had seemed to enjoy the one I’d left him yesterday, and I hoped he would accept these as an olive branch.

I stretched, feeling the dull ache in my lower back. I decided to go for a run. It always cleared my head and helped relieve the ache.

I had never properly healed from what had happened a few years ago.

I shook my head, refusing to think of that, and headed to my room to change and put on my sneakers, needing the run now more than ever.

It felt good to move. To feel the ground beneath my feet as I ran, my rhythm balanced, my breathing steady. I was in the zone, splashing through small puddles left by the sudden downpour earlier, skipping over deeper ones. I loved running in the park, especially this time of day. It was fairly deserted, a few children and their caregivers or parents watching over them. Some of the older townsfolk were sitting on benches and gossiping, a few men playing on the chessboards painted on stone tables. I waved at the people I knew but kept going, not wanting to stop.

I rounded a corner, the trail ahead of me empty except one runner in the distance heading my way. I kept to my side, head down, accidentally misjudging the depth of a puddle, my feet suddenly flying out from under me as I slipped on mud and tumbled sideways. I flung out my arms, doing a great interpretation of a windmill as I tried to recover my balance, to no avail, and I crashed to the slope beside me, rolling a little way before the world righted itself. I shut my eyes in embarrassment, grateful for the empty trail and no one witnessing the epic fall.

Except, before I could move, a man appeared beside me.

“Hey, are you okay?”

I met all-too-familiar blue eyes, the concern in them clear.

“Jesus, Kassie. That was a bad fall. Can you move? Should I call an ambulance?”

Oliver was bent over me, looking far too handsome to be this close. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and he brushed it out of his eyes with an impatient flick. He scanned me, running his hands over my arms and legs, freezing when I gasped as he touched my foot. Without asking, he picked it up, pushing up my pant leg and running his long fingers over my ankle.

“I’m fine,” I protested.

He sat back, shaking his head. “You’ve twisted or sprained your foot. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

I stared at him, unable to believe he was here. Without thinking, I gripped his arm, his muscles bunching under my touch. “I-I…” I shook my head, unable to get out the apology I wanted to share with him.

He frowned, leaning close again. “Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“Let me help you up. The ground is wet and you’ll get cold.”

He stood and grasped me around the waist, effortlessly lifting me to my feet.

“I’m okay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How about you try to walk before you decide that?”

I took a couple of steps, biting my lip to stop my groan.

“Okay. Enough,” he said then, without warning, scooped me into his arms.