Page 36 of Her Counterfeit Christmas
I scratch at my bearded cheek, not sure if I should say what I’m about to say. I’m supposed to avoid her, not be alone with her. Oh, what the heck. I’m a trustworthy guy. I won’t make a move.
“I was planning on running tomorrow morning at seven,” I say. “Do you want to go with me? There’s a two-mile loop through a nearby neighborhood.”
“There’s a neighborhood?” she says with a lopsided smile, though it seems more for show since I get the impression she’s uncomfortable talking to me. “All I saw coming in was a barren forest.”
I laugh softly to dispel her discomfort. “I can give you a tour of the area at the same time.”
She chews on her bottom lip, but then nods. “At least I won’t get lost. I’ll see you at the front door at seven.”
This time when she leaves, I let her go ahead and follow at a much slower pace.
When I get to my room, I text Miles. I’m not sure he’ll answer this late, but Layla was shivering. Even if she doesn’t want my help, I have to do something.
OWEN:Is there a heating pad somewhere? Layla could use it.
MILES:Sure. I’ll grab it and bring it to her room.
OWEN:I don’t mind giving it to her if you tell me where to find it.
MILES:I got it. Get some sleep.
It’ll be better if it comes from Miles instead of me, anyway. Then she’ll assume Spencer sent it up. You know, the man she’s dating.
OWEN:Thanks.
A minute later, I send another text.
OWEN:Maybe bring her a cup of cocoa while you’re at it. With a candy cane if you have any.
Chapter Nine
LAYLA
From the momentmy alarm sounds at six-twenty I begin an internal debate: should I show up for the run with Owen? No. But will I? Probably. I’m jittery with energy I need to burn off.
Even though it was Miles who delivered an electric heating pad and a mug of hot cocoa last night, I know it was Owen who sent him. I wish it was Spencer, but I’m not that naïve. Happiness is a mug of hot cocoa, and it was just what I needed to warm up. The cold outside had sunk into my core and a pile of blankets would not do the job.
Why does Owen have to be a nice guy? It would be so much easier to ignore my attraction to him if he wasn’t kind. He should be a jerk and then I would easily forget about him.
No matter my reservations about running with him thismorning, I’m ready and waiting at the front door five minutes before our meeting time. When Owen comes down the stairs, he’s whistling. My Opa was a whistler, and it makes me smile. I force a frown. Owen can’t think I enjoy spending time with him, or he might invite me out again, and I can’t trust myself to say no.
“Good morning,” he says with a sunny smile. Someone got up on the right side of the bed.
“Morning,” I grumble.
Outside is cold and dark, though the sky is lightening to a robin egg blue to the east. Running in winter is not for those with weak resolutions, and I’m glad Spencer bought me cold weather running gear. Unlike my roommate Livy, I love winter. At least I do when I’m properly prepared for it. A crisp wind from the ocean caresses my cheeks with icy fingers.
After stretching, we start out at a steady twelve-minute mile down the lane and speed up as we get further. Our breath puffs out in a white cloud as our feet hit the pavement in a steady rhythm. This is the first run I’ve had in over a week, and I feel the stress and tension shed behind me.
Poor Spencer. This is a thousand times better than running on the treadmill.
I normally run with earbuds in, but that’s because I run alone. It’s rude when I’m with someone, even if we’re not talking. That doesn’t mean music isn’t running through my head. Today’s soundtrack is the Beatles’A Hard Day’s Nightalbum.
From the main road, Owen takes us to an offshoot lanethat does indeed lead to a neighborhood. The houses are colorful, with dormer windows and wide front porches. They’re large, though not mansions like Rheta’s home, and spaced far apart with stretches of barren trees and lawns between each one.
The light from the rising sun casts everything in a sunny glow. It’s a gorgeous morning, and I don’t realize I’m smiling until I catch Owen looking at me from the corner of his eye. I can’t find the will to put the frown back on my face.
We finish the loop of the neighborhood, and Owen asks, “Are you ready to go back?”
