“What are you doing?” Becca asked, walking into the room. She leaned over the table to look at his laptop.
“I’m looking at houses.”
“In Hartson’s Creek?”
He scrolled down again. “Yep.”
“For an investment?” She poured some coffee into an insulated mug, then grabbed an apple and a candy bar from the cupboard. “What?” she asked, noticing Tanner’s amused stare. “I’m late for work. And I need the energy.”
“If there’s one thing you don’t need, it’s more energy,” Tanner said dryly. “And no, it’s not for an investment. It’s for me.”
“Good morning,” Aunt Gina said, walking into the kitchen with the newspaper in her hand. She pulled it from the plastic wrap and placed it to the side, the way she always did for his dad. It was hard to remember his life without Aunt Gina in it. She’d arrived the day after Tanner’s mom – her sister – died, and hadn’t left since. They’d been lucky to have her, especially with their dad being as taciturn as he was.
Aunt Gina was the balm to his father’s sting. More than once she’d stepped between his dad and Gray as they faced up to each other, before Gray left town in search of stardom. And though he’d mellowed a little over the past year, their father still made them all feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was a good thing he spent most of his time in his office.
Aunt Gina pulled a pan from beneath the stove, lighting up the heat and pouring oil into the center. “How many eggs do you want with your breakfast?” she asked Tanner.
“None.” Tanner winked at her. “I’m going running in a minute. I don’t want any breakfast, thank you.”
Their father walked into the kitchen and sat in the chair opposite Tanner’s. The light atmosphere almost immediately dissipated, the way it always did when he was around. Aunt Gina gave him the paper and he folded it over, unfolding his reading glasses and perching them on the tip of his nose.
“Oh shoot, I’m late. But I want to hear more about this house.” Becca gave Tanner a meaningful look. “And by the way, I heard you weren’t running alone yesterday. Is that why you’re so keen to go out again this morning?”
“I run every day,” Tanner said mildly. Becca had no chance of making him uncomfortable. He’d lived most of his life with Gray, Cam, and Logan. All masters at making others squirm. She was a mere pretender.
She glanced at her watch again, her expression torn. “But not in the mornings. You usually run in the evenings. You always have.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got more time on my hands. I’m switching things up.”
Letting out a grunt of annoyance, Becca stomped out of the kitchen, waving her hand in goodbye and spilling coffee everywhere. Tanner smirked but said nothing.
“Who have you been running with?” Aunt Gina asked, sliding the eggs onto the crisp bread she’d toasted. She put the plate in front of his dad.
“Nobody you know.” He finished his coffee, putting his mug in the new dishwasher Gray had bought last Christmas. “I’m off, I’ll see you later.”
“Will you be back for lunch?” Aunt Gina called at him as he grabbed the backdoor handle.
“Probably not. Don’t make anything for me.” When he turned to shoot her his usual grin she was staring at him, her brows dipped. “You okay?”
“Yes…” She trailed off, but he could still feel her scrutiny. “Are you?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“Everybody’s good,” his dad mumbled into his coffee. “Now can I get on with eating my breakfast in silence?”
And that was why Tanner needed to find a house. If he was going to stay around here for a while, he’d need to get his own place before he ended up strangling his father.
Everybody knew he was too pretty to wear prison stripes.
Van rolled her neck around in a circle, trying to loosen her tight muscles. Walking onto the porch, she lifted her right foot onto the railing, leaning forward to feel the stretch through the back of her thigh as her hamstring protested the movement.
Her eyes lifted, and she saw Tanner leaning on the oak tree, his arms folded across his chest, making his biceps bulge beneath the sleeves of his tight running top. He was wearing shorts again, but this time she refused to look at his tan, defined legs. She didn’t need to anyway. They were etched into her memory.
Ignoring him, she stretched her left hamstring, counting to twenty before she turned and put her right foot on the rail, gracefully leaning forward until the fronts of her thighs began to loosen.
From the corner of her eye she could see he hadn’t moved an inch. Hadn’t said anything either. He was just staring at her with those dark eyes. She wasn’t going to blush – she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, she stood and stretched to the right and the left, then jogged down the steps to the path.
As soon as she passed him, she heard his running shoes pound against the concrete flagstones, matching her stride for stride as she made her way down the street. When the sidewalk widened, he sped up just enough to run beside her, then slowed to match her gait once more.