The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (10 page)

The evening winds down shortly after midnight when the rain that’s been threatening to fall all day finally makes an appearance.  Emmy and I climb into her car and call it a night.  “So Jette, what’s going on with you and Derek?”

“I don’t know what you mean.  He’s cute.  A nice guy and all, but there’s definitely nothing going on.”  I wonder what brought that on.

“You may not think there is, but Derek is definitely interested.  He was following you around like a puppy dog all night long.”

“Whatever.  He’s just a big flirt.  I see him flirting with girls at the bar all night long.  It’s nothing.”

“OK, if you say so.”   

Emmy drops me off at home.  Auggie’s not home yet, so I leave the porch light on and get ready for bed.  I take off my watch, brush my teeth, and plug in my cell phone to charge it.  There’s a missed message lighting the screen.  I finally let myself have some fun tonight. I never checked my phone once all night.  I swipe the arrow to unlock the phone and there’s a message waiting for me from Evan.

Hey running grl – can’t wait til Sunday

It’s too late to text him back. Or is it too early?  I hug myself at the thoughts of today’s developments.  I have a dinner date with Evan, a potential wedding client, and a really cool new group of friends.  Sleep overtakes me and I drift into a sweet slumber with dreams of fairy tales and movie stars.

E
arly Saturday morning my alarm wakes me from a sound sleep.  I peek out the window and I am greeted with stormy skies.  Heavy rain has cancelled my morning run and I get a chance to sleep in today.  I get back into bed, pull the covers up to my chin, and close my eyes.

By ten o’clock, Jack calls to tell me I can have the day off.  The outside patio is closed due to the pouring rain.  I decide to spend the day creating a decadent dessert for tomorrow’s dinner date.  Scouring through my recipe books, I decide on a Salted Caramel Entremet. 

An entremet is a classic French cake that is comprised of different complementary flavors with a variety of textures.  There’s a layer of cake, mousse, and crunch, each incorporating a unique flavor.  The result should be an explosion of taste and texture that awakens all the senses.

As I start gathering my ingredients, I begin to think about the ingredients for my drink of choice last night, a ‘Dirty Butthole’.  The main ingredients are Kahlua and Jägermeister.  Perhaps I should incorporate those flavors into a new creation uniquely my own.  Jägermeister has a complex combination of orange, ginger and cinnamon, while Kahlua has a rich coffee base.  I just know these flavor profiles will work really well together. Salted caramel glaze and chocolate curls will give it the desired texture and visual appeal I’m hoping for. 

Auggie never came home last night, so I find myself alone in the kitchen cooking.  I put my iPhone music on shuffle and wait to see what Siri plays for me.  She treats me to FUN., one of my favorite indie-pop bands.  As I’m dancing around the kitchen cooking, singing, and baking, I’m interrupted by a new text message.

Evan: 
missed u this mrng running grl ;)

He winked at me.  I take a break and text him back.

Jette
:  im baking you something special right now

Evan
:  mmm  cant wait to taste your sweet treat

Oh my God!  He’s flirting with me again.  I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. 

Jette: 
looking forward to tasting ur main course :P

Evan: 
we’ll have to see about that 2mrw

Jette:
gtg before i burn my butter. later

Looks like it’s going to be another great day.  I put my music back on and resume my bake dancing.

J
ust as I put the finishing touches on my Entremet, Reese calls to check in.  “Hey, Reese!  I’m so glad you called.  What’s up?”

“Nothing much, I’m bored.  I miss Denver.  Life here in Wisconsin sucks.”  Like me, Reese moved back home after graduation.  She’s from a small town just west of Milwaukee.  “How’s life at the Jersey Shore?  Meet any hot surfers yet?”

“Well, I have a date tomorrow night, but it’s not with a surfer.  His name is Evan and he’s a trainer with the New Jersey Sentinels.”  I still can’t believe it’s really happening.

“Seriously?  A trainer?  Does he have a hot body?”

“Reese, you have no idea.”  I spend the next half an hour telling her all about him.  She is giddy when I tell her about my accidental meeting on the beach and chance meeting at the coffee shop.

“Jette, it sounds like kismet.  You know I don’t believe in accidents.  You need to really give this guy a chance and see where it leads.”  Reese is a true romantic.

“But he’s just so ... perfect.”

“Bull crap.  There’s no such thing as a perfect man.  You know, sort of like the Loch Ness Monster ... they say he exists, but no one’s actually seen him.”

Reese always makes me feel better.  By four o’clock, I start to get ready for the movies.  The four of us are going to the five o’clock showing of ‘Means to an End’ playing at the local movie theater.  We all take our own cars so we can be on our way afterwards.  Not surprisingly, I’m the last to arrive, and when I do, I find Derek, Grant, and Emmy waiting in the lobby for me.  Derek’s height makes it easy to find him in the crowd and I make my way over to join them.

“I bought your ticket, Jette.  What do I get in return?”  Derek raises his eyebrows and grins devilishly.

“Oh, Derek, you’re such a sweet talker.  You make my knees weak,” and I patted my chest with a quick thrumming while looking up at him adoringly. 

The four of us head into the theater and take seats along the back wall of the theater.  We’re just in time to see the trailers for other movies, which is my favorite part.  There are some great blockbusters being released this summer: romances, action/adventures, comedies, and cartoons.  I find myself wondering what kind of movies Evan likes to see and what it would be like to be sitting in a dark theater so close to someone who makes my pulse race and my skin tingle.

A little over two hours later and the movie’s over.  We decide to head over to Applebee’s to grab a few drinks and dinner. 

In a few weeks, Wilkinson’s is having a big event to raise money for Restore the Shore.  I’ve heard there are going to be some famous people attending, and I’m wondering if Derek and Emmy have heard anything specific.

“I heard Bruce Springsteen may stop in,” Emmy says.  “He rarely makes scheduled appearances.  Last time he just showed up, played a couple of songs, and his body guards snuck him right out the door.”  As a true Jersey Girl, I am an avid Bruce Springsteen fan.  Making drinks for The Boss would really be a thrill.

“Jack told me some big names from sports will probably show up,” Derek adds.  “Some players from the Devils and Sentinels are supposed to be here, too.”  I’ll have to try to remember to ask Evan if he knows anything about his team coming to our epic event. 

Derek asks, “Grant, you have to come out for this.  I’ll get a pair of tickets for you and a date.  You in?”

“Hells, yeah! I’m banking on Bruce showing up.  Count me in.” 

Throwing Caution to the Wind

I
t’s seven in the morning and I’m getting ready for my run.  As I flit around my room gathering my running clothes, my phone beeps with a new text message.  I quickly hop over and read it.

In a strange way, I’m glad I won’t be running into Evan during my run.  That means I can relax and enjoy a good work out.  I quickly finish getting ready, and then Maddy and I head out.

The beach is my happy place.  It always has been, for as long as I can remember.  My earliest memory of the beach is from when I was very young. 

My grandfather drove me to see the ocean during a particularly fierce hurricane.  It was the early stages of the storm, and he drove me to the Manasquan inlet in his old Buick.  He parked right up next to the inlet wall and we sat in the car while the waves crashed right up over the wall and onto the hood of the car.  I thought it was the coolest thing in the world.  We didn’t stay long, but I remember it like it was yesterday.  My grandfather’s gone now, but he had a big impact on my life and I cherish the memories I have of him.

By the time I was in middle school, my friends and I would ride our bikes to the beach and stay all day.  We’d bake ourselves in the sun and eat lunch on the boardwalk.  Come high school, we were sneaking onto the beach to avoid the badge checkers and flirting with the lifeguards.  My earliest jobs all involved the beach, too. I was an umbrella girl one summer where I got to hang out with the lifeguards and bring beach umbrellas to the Bennies.  The pay was awful, but tips were pretty good and I was, after all, on the beach all day every day. 

The memories wash over me and before I know it, my car is parked and I’m making my way to the beach for my morning run.  So thick are my memories, that I barely remember driving here. I guess I was on automatic pilot.  My childhood friends have mostly scattered across the country.  Sometimes I miss them, but I understand.  Not that long ago, I was seriously thinking about staying permanently in Denver, but I’m here now and, frankly, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in this exact moment. 

Today, I decide to push myself to resume my workout, no holding back.  Maddy and I are making good time and I’m working up a real sweat.  I feel mentally and physically sharp and ready for whatever obstacles are placed before me.  I arrive back at my starting point, and I start to cool down.  To keep my mind and body balanced, I decide to do a few yoga stretches.  As a beginner, there are only a few poses that I am familiar with, so I opt for the familiar downward facing dog.  Carefully, I place my palms into the firm sand facing the ocean and I crouch down on my knees.  Slowly, I extend my hips and straighten my legs.  I can feel the muscles in my calves stretch and burn.  With a deep exhale, I push my thighs back and begin to slowly place my heels back on the ground.

It’s at this exact moment that I hear an unfamiliar male voice, “You must be Juliette.”  I look between my knees and see the inverted image of stalker-hoodie-man walking towards me.  Really?  Now?  Crap!

Despite the position of my ass relative to his face, I remain frozen in place and respond, “And you must be my creepy stalker-hoodie-man.  Oh, sorry, I mean Adam, right?” Slowly I relax my thighs and place my knees on the ground, then turn, stand, and face him. 

He hands me a bottle of water.  “Yeah – sorry about the creepy-stalker thing the other day.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”