Chuckling, Justine grabbed her bag-basket thing and hat. “I’m going to go change.”
“Come have a snack with us.”
“I’m actually pretty tired. I think I’m going to hang out in my room for a little bit.”
“But you napped. How can you still be tired?”
Bennett covered his mouth with his hand again. His child was relentless. She had a question and answer for everything.
Was Justine feigning exhaustion to avoid him or the kids?
He was watching her exchange with his child when she lifted her gaze and their eyes locked. Color flooded her cheeks, muting the adorable freckles that he’d dreamed of kissing last night.
“I don’t want to intrude on your routine family time. I’m going to check some emails and maybe read a bit more.”
“Justine is on vacation, Little Bug. We need to let her do what she wants to do. And if that is not answering a million questions from a seven-year-old, then she has every right.” He got up from the couch and approached them, taking Aya’s hand and pulling in that summery, citrus scent of Justine and the sunscreen.
Her shudder when his arm brushed her shoulder was small, but he noticed it. He noticed the way she sucked in a breath, the way her nostrils flared and she swallowed. He noticed everything.
“Come on, honey,” he pulled Aya into the kitchen with him while Justine took the freedom to hightail it up the stairs. The snick of his bedroom door closing was like a gong going off in the house and caused that pit of regret in his belly to widen and get deeper.
He needed to talk to Justine about this morning and apologize.
He needed to talk to Justine about this morning and see where her head was at and if she was okay.
But most of all, he needed to talk to Justine about this morning and see if she was interested in doing it again, because the only time anything in his world had made sense in the last five years was this morning. In the woods with her. Inside of her. Lost in her and the moment. And as impossible as it sounded, he wanted to go back to that moment more than anything.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
She avoided him for the rest of the day, then when he thought they could talk the next morning on their run, she was nowhere to be found. He knew she was still in the house. He heard her in the bedroom and bathroom, but he never saw her.
He didn’t see her on Wednesday either.
She was a master at avoidance, and even the kids were wondering if they’d done something to upset her.
So on Thursday morning, he set his alarm for four o’clock and waited. Sure enough, she came down the stairs, quiet as a church mouse in her running gear. She didn’t go into the kitchen, and he noticed that her protein powder and shaker bottle disappeared after their morning tryst on Monday. She probably took them to her room.
He came out of the kitchen just as she was putting on her shoes. “You’re avoiding me now?”
She jumped and squeaked in surprise. It was too dark in the foyer to see her blush, but he could tell by the way she chewed on the inside of her cheek that she was uncomfortable.
“I … I thought it would be easier this way,” she stammered.
“For whom?” He stalked toward her slowly. He wore his running gear, and Jagger knew of his plan and was reluctantly coming over.
“For everyone involved,” she breathed.
The door opened, and a grumpy, bed-headed bear with a beard and frown entered. He wore his flannel pajama pants, no shirt, and had a big sherpa blanket draped over his shoulders. He didn’t even grunt at them, he just collapsed on the couch and started snoring.
“Let’s go for a run and chat,” Bennett said, tilting his head to the door.
Justine exhaled deeply and nodded. “Fine.”
Neither of them said anything as they walked to the security gate and he flicked on his headlamp. By five in the morning, it was light enough he didn’t need a headlamp, but at this ungodly hour, it was still dark enough to sprain an ankle or get hit by a bus.
Tension flickered like static and he ached to take her hand, wrap his arm around her or touch her in some way. He craved the feel of her soft skin beneath his again. He also wanted to comfort her, to ease her strife and whatever warred inside of her, harsh enough to make her believe avoiding him was the only sensible recourse.
He punched in the code for the gate and held open the man-door for her.