A shoulder comes parallel to mine.
Intruder.
I don’t turn to look.
Increasing my already rapid pace, I yank at Doris to inform her we are on the move. Whether that’s in front or on a detour, it will definitely be away from this stranger intruding our space. My clothes are so damp with sweat, that they cling to my body. The salt from my perspiration is lining my lips and coating my skin’s surface. My eyes sting with remnants of yesterday’s mascara, but through the sweaty, stingy, hazy blur, I pound through it because getting away from the stranger is the priority.
Gasping.
Panicking.
The stranger keeps up, side by side. It’s definitely a man—an athletic man, but a man just the same. I can’t bring myself to look because I might falter or panic. If this person is a threat, Doris will let me know. Focused straight ahead, I pass creeks, bends, and potholes, powering up steps up and over a bridge and down the steps at the other end.
Panting.
Gasping.
Burning.
The stranger has the edge. He picks up speed and strides in front of me, and I catch a glimpse of his back and biceps from the side through my wet, salty lashes.
The path bends sharply in the corner, so I prepare my body to swerve, leaning to the side. As I lean inward, I stumble over a broken branch on the dirt track, twisting my ankle and knocking me to my knees.
“Ouch!”
Doris barks loudly and my earphones fall from my ears landing somewhere beside me in slow motion.
My hands have scraped across the gravel on the fall, so I try to protect my fragile wrist by leaning on the other arm, grazing my skin in several places, and my knees hit the stones as I stumble. I don’t need to look to know I’m cut and bruised from my tumble.
I can feel the stinging sensation to my skin.
Then it hits me.
The pain.
I fall over onto my side in aching despair and scream in agony. Doris pounds on top of me, which only makes me worse. I’m suffocated. I can barely breathe, and I need to push her off.
“Oh my God … fuck, are you okay?” A fast, panting, deeply masculine voice asks. He’s on his knees.
“My ankle. Shit, my ankle. I went over on it.” I try to stretch my leg and wiggle my foot side to side. Heart racing, chest heaving, blood pounding in my ears.
“Don’t move,” he instructs.
Not that I can with a massive Weimeraner gun dog hovering over me. Doris eventually moves away and lies by my side, so now my whole body is exposed to him.
A smooth masculine hand moves over my wet, sweaty leg to my ankle sending shivers over my body. I flinch. I wish Lucca were here.
I try to sit up to face the runner, but I slump on the gravel, having an urge to turn my head. I need to vomit. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick.”
Leaning away, the runner puts a hand on my hip and the other on my shoulder to hold me. I curl my body to vomit at the side of the path in the most un-ladylike fashion, wrenching repeatedly and gasping for air.
Taking deep breaths after I’ve emptied my stomach, I’m shaking all over and embarrassed as my stomach catapults. I always react to pain by vomiting, ugh!
“Are you better?” he asks.
“I’ll be fine. I’m sorry, it’s just a reaction to the pain.” My face is scorched red from exhaustion and embarrassment.
“Don’t be sorry as long as you’re okay. Are you going to be sick again?” I still haven’t glanced at the man offering to help me, but Doris is surprisingly calm and his voice is soft, sincere, and steady.
“No, I think I’m good. I haven’t had breakfast and I’m a little shaky. It’s a miracle I didn’t faint. That’s my party piece apparently.” I try to make light of the situation.
Still fixing my gaze on the path, I can’t look up as the blood draining from my head will make me dizzy. Crouching in front of me, two sweaty hands cup my face and a familiar pair of eyes bore into mine—rich, chocolate eyes. I was about to jerk away but I’m stunned.
Jackson.
Why would someone of his calibre and reputation be out running solo on a public path anyway?
“Oh God, Jackson, I’m sorry. I’ve overdone it, and I think I’ve hurt my ankle. I must be a state. I’m sorry. You must think I’m …” I ramble, because I’m so embarrassed but relieved it’s not a complete stranger.
I don’t know why I’m worried about my appearance and what he thinks as he intimidates me slightly, but strangely, I do worry about what he thinks. He stares into my eyes, his brown eyes meeting mine softly.
He seems genuinely worried. I feel the heat of his athletic body towering over me and the soft touch of his hand here and there on my red-hot skin. He is every bit as handsome as he was yesterday.
Before I met Lucca, I could not have had contact in such a close proximity, but I now know that not everyone is sinister and corrupt, willing to hurt. Jackson’s touch is a welcome relief in the absence of Lucca’s caring hands.
I genuinely think Jackson wants to help even though I’m still slightly intimidated by him. Or am I? Oh Jesus. I’m so confused.
“Christ, Alexis, I could barely keep up with you. You’re fast. That was a bad fall you had there. Is it broken?”
I move it from side to side, wincing with the strain. Leaning over, I untie my lace creating room to breathe. “I think it’s sprained … I need to get my sock and shoe off to assess properly, but it’s not broken. It just hurts like hell.”
Jackson sighs and loosens the laces then runs his hand across my cheek and removes a little piece of bark clinging to my hair.
“What are you doing running out here? Doesn’t bother you that people will know who you are?” I ask.
“I have a gym in the house, but I like to get out in the fresh air and have some normalcy about my life. I park my car outside the castle ruins so I don’t need to venture onto the main street. I didn’t know you could run like that. Fuck, you’re good,” he says, running his thumb gently over my ankle.
“Not anymore by the looks of it.” I nod towards my ankle. “I used to run a lot, but I’m out of condition as I was abroad then suffered another injury.”
“Is that why your skin is lovely and bronzed? Were you somewhere nice?” He shifts, unsure whether to help me up or not yet.
“Italy,” I reply, adjusting myself as I try to stand.
“With Lucca?”
Why does he want to know? What difference does it make, surely it’s obvious.
“Yes.”
He lifts my earphones and passes them to me but does not comment further. “Can you stand up?”
“Yes, I think so.” I stand then stumble into him leaning on my stronger ankle taking pressure off the other.
“Here, wrap your arm around my shoulder. I’ll help you walk back.” Doris is circling then sniffing him and rubbing her head off his thigh, but she’s not barking so I know she trusts him.
“Doris, stop it.” I giggle.
“She’s okay. I have two Dobermans so she probably smells them, and Shawna has one of those white fur ball things that sits on her fucking lap all day like a toy fucking trophy. The Dobermans hate her.”
I laugh and form a smile amidst my cringing with mortification. “Shawna or the fur ball?”
He grins. “Um, both actually.” He laughs light-heartedly.
“Jackson, thank you for your help, but honestly, I’m fine. I think it’s a sprain. I’ll manage back. You go on with your run. It’s not good for you to stop like that while training. I’ll call Cameron to come and get me.”
Shit.
I don’t have my phone. Only my iPod and looking at Jackson in his sports kit, he doesn’t look to have a phone either.
“Cameron? Why not Lucca?”
“He’s working away this week.” I look towards my ankle and sigh, wishing Lucca could scoop me up in his arms the way he normally does and make me feel better.
“I’m not leaving you on your own. I’ll make sure you get home. Cameron would never forgive me if I left his baby sister in pain like this.” He holds a hand on the back of his neck and nods towards my ankle.
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “Okay, thank you.”
Putting my weight onto his side, he wraps an arm around my waist firmly. Flinching under his touch, I manage to hobble a few steps.
“You need some water and something to eat. Then you need to get ice on that ankle and get it elevated.”
I smile at his instructions. This is exactly the advice I would give but I don’t mention it. I’m well aware of how to look after sprains; he’s only trying to help. “Yes, sir.”
I hobble another few steps but close my eyes and grit my teeth, grimacing from the pressure and pain. Before reaching the steps of the bridge, he surprises me by lifting me up and cradling me into his chest. My arm automatically wraps around his neck as he carries me over the bridge. I’m flooded with feelings and mixed signals.
Lucca’s arms are the only arms I want to be in and a stranger touching me, never mind carrying me, would normally have me hysterical or cause me to run. I’m in so much agony and it’s not as if I can run anywhere. I need his help but it doesn’t stop me from feeling tense and nervous.
One arm around my back the other under my legs, his hand is close to my ass, holding me to him. The same hand is splayed over my tight running shorts, which barely cover my ass and the skin at the top of my legs. His hold on me is close, but it’s the only way he can carry me without a fireman’s lift or me straddling his waist, which would never happen. I’m about to protest, but I know it would take me ages to get over the steps, even if I could, and I feel secure strangely.
Folding …
At the other end of the bridge, I expect him to put me down, but he doesn’t. He continues to carry me as he makes small talk. Leaning against his chest, I inhale the sweet scent of fragrant flowers and oranges and musk mixed with sweat.
Now my chest is heaving a little again while my pulse quickens. He stops and looks down at me. “Are you okay?”
I’m not. Anything but. Jackson scents remind me of Lucca’s tropical body products and the musk in his aftershave, which makes me pine for him, and I’m missing him terribly. It’s adding to my unease.
I’m getting anxious. This is inappropriate. I wonder what Lucca would make of it. He warned me to stay away from him, but it’s not as if I’ve had a choice.
Guilty …
“Yes, I’m fine. You can put me down if you like.” I suggest even though I know I wouldn’t get very far on my own right now.
He continues to walk, ignoring my suggestion. “We’re nearly there. I want to do this to help you, and besides, you’re light as a feather, so it’s no hassle. You know, Alexis, you’re not like other women.”
What’s he going on about? How would he know?
“You’re beautiful and sincere, but I’m sure Lucca has already told you that many times.”
Fuck!
File P for panic. Panic attack flaring up, just directly.
“I’m not going to lie. Most girls throw themselves at me, and will do anything to get my attention as they strive to be the next chick hanging on my arm. It drives my current girlfriend crazy, but she was one of those girls before …”
I take a deep breath with his next stride. Where’s he going with this?
“Yet, here you are in my arms, and you couldn’t care less. You’re different.”
I wouldn’t say I couldn’t care less. He has rendered me speechless. All the years I could have been in the arms of a man before I met Lucca I didn’t want to. Now I don’t want to because I only want to be in Lucca’s.
“I watched you yesterday, and I know the other boys did too, but I was intrigued.” He tilts his head down angling near my head, his words close to my ear, giving the impression he wants me to hear him. Really hear him.
I’m aware I was under surveillance yesterday, but I’m not letting on. “Why are you telling me this?”
Halting his steps, he readjusts his arms slightly. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who really fascinates me. You don’t seem fazed at all about my celebrity stardom, nor are you throwing yourself at me trying to impress me. It’s refreshing to meet someone so down to earth with natural beauty. Lucca is very lucky to have you,” he says casually.
I’m not sure if it’s a compliment, an act of sincerity, or an attempt to chat me up, but he’s succeeded in making me quiver ever so slightly, and oddly, he doesn’t seem to intimidate me, especially not the way he did yesterday.
Is it too early for wine?
He tenses a little. “Are you intimidated or appalled by me because I have a reputation for being a womaniser?”
“What? No, I mean I’m not intimidated or appalled. Why would you think that?”
He sighs. “I see it in your eyes.”
Lucca tells me this often. “Okay, I admit I did have my opinions of you, and if I’m honest, they weren’t favourable ones, but I didn’t know you. Right now, I don’t have any feelings other than embarrassment about the state I’ve got myself in today and thankful that you’re kind enough to help me.”
I lie.
Stopping at a bench in the narrow dirt path surrounded by overgrown wild greens, he sits down to take a rest but keeps me on his lap. I shuffle over so that I’m sitting on the bench by his side stretching my legs and rotating my ankle slowly. Doris lies at my feet. Jackson watches me stretch out, narrowing his eyes over my bronzed legs.
There is an awkward silence. I know he’s waiting for me to say something, but all I can think about the is pulsing throb at my ankle and the fact that I think Lucca will be furious when he finds out I’m spending time with Jackson. I know his intention is to help me, and he isn’t threatening me in any way, but Lucca won’t see it like that. He’ll assume Jackson’s trying to flirt with me and for that reason alone, I should ensure I put Jackson in his place.
“I’m not fazed by stardom, money, or status. It doesn’t impress me. People probably think that I’m with Lucca for his money, but I’m not. I love Lucca for who he is, what he is to me, how he makes me feel. I’d still love him if he were penniless because money can’t buy you love or happiness.”
I pick a piece of broken bark splintering from the bench and twist it until it breaks off. This is the same bench that Cameron and I sat on when we were having our chat yesterday morning. I wonder what he would make of this. I know he thinks highly of Jackson and that gives me some comfort.