Jackie Braun - Mr Right There All Along

She shuddered, making him sorry to have brought it up. She’d gotten the bright idea to lie under the heat lamp her grandmother kept to warm new litters of Persian kittens, and had wound up burned to the point of blistering on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

“Not tanning per se,” she murmured, but before he could question her further, she asked, “Will you be going for your usual run tomorrow morning?”

He frowned at the change in subject. “Why?”

“I was thinking of joining you.”

He couldn’t help it. His brows shot up. “Are you going to run?”

She wrinkled her nose, a sign she was insulted. “You don’t need to look so shocked. Haven’t you pestered me since Nana’s heart attack to do more cardio conditioning?”

He had indeed, worried that Chloe’s addiction to comfort food might take her down the same hardened-arteries path as her seventy-four-year-old grandmother. But he knew Chloe’s sudden decision to listen had less to do with his persuasive abilities than their upcoming class reunion. He almost called her on it. But the truth was, he liked the idea of having company during the runs he took four mornings a week.

“We can meet in the park at eight,” he said after a moment.

“Great.”

Her smile lasted until Helga arrived with their food. The cream-cheese-laden bagel beckoned. The way she swallowed before sucking in her bottom lip told him as much. Whoever had been manning the knife in the kitchen had been generous with the topping.

“Anything else?” Helga asked, her meaty hands resting on a pair of what Simon remembered a great-aunt referring to as good child-bearing hips.

No way he was going to point out that his so-called fresh fruit cup looked suspiciously like the syrup-drenched cocktail variety that came in a can.

“No. We’re good.”

More than half of the bagel remained when Helga brought the check. Chloe considered that a victory of the highest order. She’d actually sat on her hands to keep from finishing it off. Whatever it took, she was willing to do it. She had her eye on the prize.

“You promised me a walk,” she reminded Simon.

“So I did. And I never renege on my promises,” he replied. He always looked surprisingly serious when he made comments such as that, and now was no exception. “Do you have a destination in mind?”

“How about that little bookstore just off Fifth? We haven’t been there in a while.”

It was one of the few independent shops of its kind left in the city. And while Chloe had nothing against the big stores that held every title and obscure periodical under the sun and housed trendy cafes where patrons could get a good, if pricey, cup of coffee and read their purchases, she was especially fond of this place. It was the clear underdog. Chloe knew how that felt.

“Sure.”

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