Page 29 of Stuck with Mr. Grump

There’s no mistaking Sterling Harrington’s gaze despite him standing so far away. There’s always this intensity in his eyes that takes my breath away. I’m still getting over the shock of seeing him when he starts to approach. I slowly rise when he reaches my bench.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Ms. Cameron.”

“You’re seriously everywhere,” I mutter dully.

His eyes sharpen at that comment. I take in his outfit. Joggers, a black tank top, and running shoes. I try and fail not to get distracted by the sheen of sweat on his jaw. It practically glistens as it slides down his bronze skin. The tank top is tight enough that I can glimpse his abs. This feels very dangerous.

“It’s late. What are you doing here alone?”

“Minding my own business,” I say with a small smile. “You should try it sometime.”

He rolls his eyes. “That was me trying to be a good person. How about you try it?”

Okay, he’s got me there. It’s 10 p.m.; any reasonable person would be asking what I’m doing at a park thirty minutes from my house.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I could ask you the same question, though,” I retort. “What are you doing all the way out here? Did you run?”

“Yeah.” He nods.

“The Harrington Estate is, like, way back there, though. How long have you been running?”

He looks down at the smart watch on his wrist. “About forty-five minutes.”

“What kind of person runs for forty-five minutes at ten p.m.?” I say in disbelief.

“What kind of person hangs around an abandoned park at ten p.m.?” he retorts.

My lips twitch. “Touché. Are you okay, though? Is someone chasing you? Because a warning would be nice so I can haul my ass out of here.”

To my surprise, Sterling Harrington actually laughs at that. It’s a small one, like three simple ha-ha-has. But it’s nice to hear.

“Don’t worry, Cameron. Your ass is fine,” he tells me, with a glint in his eyes.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was flirting with me. I feel a sudden flush of heat creeping up on my neck. The tension between us goes up a few notches.

“I know it is,” I mutter, feeling my heart race a little.

Get it together, Emilia.

“Anyway, I’m going to head home. See you later, Harrington.”

He frowns. “And how do you plan to get home?”

“While my body wasn’t made for running, unlike some people, I do have two working feet that are perfect for walks,” I inform him.

“No,” he states, his frown deepening. “You’re not walking all the way home alone. In the dead of the night.”

My eyes narrow. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Fine, I’ll walk you.”

My eyes widen. “Did I ask you to?”

“You’re my best friend’s little sister. Putting aside your personality, I do have a responsibility to ensure you’re safe.”

“My personality is perfect,” I snap. “Plus, Mr. Responsible Gentleman, I know you haven’t lived in Edenton in a while but it’s reasonably safe. Therefore I do not need you and I absolutely do not want you walking me home.”

“Do you ever just agree to do things or will your biological makeup be disrupted if you do anything without putting up a fight?” he asks, his tone bored. “Besides, it’s on my way anyway. I was just about to turn around and head home. Considering we’re both heading in the same direction, we can just walk together.”

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