On the way out the door, I hugged the Hanleys goodbye and thanked them for the beautiful job they did with the place. Once our luggage was packed in the trunk, Luke hopped in the car, waiting before starting it.
"Are you going to tell me where you really went this morning?"
"Will you tell me what the thirteen symbolizes?"
"Touché. I will tell you, but you first."
"I went to the cemetery."
"To?"
"Take care of some business that I've been putting off."
"It's the day I was born. March thirteenth."
"Will you tell me about the house we stayed in?"
"Tell me about the Mark Twain quote."
He smiled a devilish grin. "You are bound to find out more about them one way or another, aren't you?"
"I think it's a fair trade."
"My mother read a lot of Mark Twain to me when I was a kid. That quote symbolized every harsh thing that's happened to me in life while reminding me of her." He paused, and then continued. "The world owes me nothing. I'm nothing more than a small footprint. I know it seems that I've had things handed to me on a silver platter, but… it isn't true. I want you to know that."
"Wow. That's powerful. And I didn't. The longer I'm with you, the more I realize how much I don't know about you."
"I could say the same about you. So. Carry on. Tell me."
I sucked in a deep breath.
"I grew up in that house. The room we slept in, that was my old bedroom."
Luke didn't ask any more questions. He didn't need to, and I respected him for not prying.
"I didn't know, you know. I'd have never brought you here if I would have," he said.
"I know. Your intentions were where they needed to be. I get it. It's no big deal. But next time, I think I'd prefer a beach."
Laughter filled the car. Beaches, we both hated them.
"I want to bring you to London. Have you ever been there before?"
I shook my head.
"I want to walk through the streets of Paris with you, let you experience my tourist city since I've already enjoyed yours. We can watch the Eiffel tower light the night sky, and drink wine. I want to take you through the heart of historic areas. It isn't the same as the States, you know. It's almost magical. I want you to experience it all, the Seine River, the Notre Dame Cathedral, the things most only think exist in fairy tales."
"I'd like that."
Turbulence and terrible food fueled the flight. No amount of mini bottles of booze or Dramamine could help it, but I kept dreaming about Paris, and Luke, and the semi-secrets I shared with him on the way home. No one knew personal things about me in Vegas. Granted, he didn't know the whole story, but just enough to get him in trouble. A simple Google search would give my parents' deaths and me away. Nothing was private these days.
Once on the ground, fatigue and hunger blanketed my body. The weather was colder and different from Texas, and I wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a handful of aspirin. I felt like we time traveled from the airport to Felton's and to the moment that Luke escorted me to the front door. I waited for him to speak.
"Thank you for the wonderful time. It was nice being your boyfriend for the weekend. Send my regards to Julie."
He laughed and tried walking away.
"I don't think so. Not so quick." I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged. Then, I kissed him on the cheek and pulled away. "Thank you."
"I'm already planning Paris." His finger trailed the outside of my jaw and then he walked away. The Volvo zoomed down the driveway.
Once inside, I leaned against the door and closed my eyes, hoping my head would stop swimming. Too many emotions happened too quickly.
I dragged the suitcase up the stairs and changed into some running clothes. Breaking myself down physically usually helped clear my mind. My parents, the house, tattoos, Texas rendezvous, and the heart of Paris, I couldn't concentrate.
The weather was too nice for me to ignore the opportunity to release all the tension through my body. I pulled my hair into a tight ponytail, jogged down the stairs, and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.
"Where do you think you're going?" Jesse asked as she sipped a cup of tea.
"Out for a jog. Gotta stay fit, you know. It's in the contract."
"Yes, we wouldn't want your ass any bigger than it already is."
"And I don't want a flabby granny ass like yours," I said and then mumbled "bitch" as I walked away.
I did a few quick stretches outside. The temperature had dropped, and the cool air stung as it entered my lungs, but the fresh dryness relaxed me.
Fall, finally.
The slow pace down the long drive would help me warm my muscles. I knew that it was a mile to the country road and a mile back so I would get in two miles, maybe four if I felt up to it.
My feet hit the pavement, but I stayed light on my toes. When I ran, I felt free, strong, and unstoppable.
My heart beat hard, and I picked up the pacing, almost to a full sprint. Air flowed in through my nose and out my mouth, and halfway to my checkpoint, I wished for a pair of gloves. Although my blood pumped fast, and my body felt warm, my fingers and toes stayed cold. But I continued forward.
At the end of the driveway, I checked my time, nine-minute mile, not bad, but not my best. Warm-up lap. I tapped the gate with my fingertips and then took off again. I pushed harder, and faster, with hopes to beat my personal best. The wind carried me to the house as it flowed with me instead of against. I ran to the front steps and tapped the front door, eight minutes and twenty-nine seconds.
"Yes. In your face," I said to myself between breaths that I could almost see.
"What's in my face?" Finnley stood in a pair of running pants and matching windbreaker.
"I cut my time down. Just celebrating."
"Congratulations. Want another go?"
I clicked my heart rate monitor and took off running.
Eat my dust, suckaaaa.
I pushed myself harder than I did the last run. The newfound pace was above my comfort level, but I refused to slow down and dug deep inside. My fingers grazed the gate at the end. The normal break I usually took was skipped when Finn kept running.
"Hey! Don't cheat," I yelled at him and then forced myself to run at his speed.
"Haven't you learned yet?" His breathing was heavy and sexy as he spoke between breaths. I tried not to ball my fists and concentrated on relaxing my body, and moving as a well-oiled machine.
"It's all about pacing, Ms. Downs."
I laughed as I tried to sprint ahead of him, but he was faster, stronger. Neck and neck, we ran beside one another until he left me in his tracks. He stood with his shoulder against the wooden door as I sprinted to catch up.
"I will outrun you any day," he said.
I checked my watch: thirteen minutes.
"Woohoo! Two miles. At seven and a half minutes. That's the fastest I've—"
"Go again?"
"Nope. I'm done. I've beaten my personal record."
Sweat dripped into my eyes, and burned, but I wiped it away.
"Come on, have another go. I'll slow down to your level if you'd like."
The smirk that spread across his face drew out the competitive side in me. I exhaled, but gave in to the challenge. But this time, I didn't race; I took it slow and steady as he instructed. From my peripheral, I could see his body flexing with each movement. His hair, messy and flat from sweat, was tucked behind his ears.
Pure sex.
"How long have you been running?" I asked.
"Since Uni. I ran on the varsity team."
"No wonder I'll never beat you. You're body has been trained. Not fair."
"Very good. I pick up the pace, and you follow. Not the first time I've guided you."