The war inside of me continues. Do I want him to take the bait just to prove my notion that all men cheat?
Lucy pulls and the leash slips from my grasp.
“Shit!”
Lucy barrels through the picnic goers and I quickly make chase.
“Mommy, that lady swore,” one little girl tattles as I race by.
I glance at the mom with apologetic eyes as I run by. “I’m sorry!”
I’m sorry seems to be a chorus as I weave around families trying to enjoy a nice summer afternoon without a dog trampling them.
“Lucy!” I scold, but she completely ignores me, her attention set on something, her feet galloping like a damn horse.
Her tail wags and she jumps off a poor boy’s back, skidding to a stop right on the edge of the grass and the sidewalk along the lake.
“Lucy!” I step on her leash until my hands can wrap it around my wrist twice. “I’m so sorry.” I apologize and glance up, finally seeing what’s in front of me.
Roarke.
His face pales, but without missing a beat, he bends at his knees and pets Lucy.
“Lucy girl. Why do you give your mom such a hard time?” He smiles looking over her to me.
I’m sure my face is beet red from the running and the embarrassment of having ruined people’s picnics.
“You asked me to bring her why?” My tone is that of an ungrateful thirteen-year-old who was asked to watch her baby brother.
“It’s a gorgeous day and she needs to get out of that condo.” Roarke leans over my out-of-its-mind dog, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. “This is Aspen.” He holds his hand out to the pretty young girl who was flirting with him.
As usual, I plaster on my wonderful to meet you smile and extend my hand. Her small dainty hand slides into mine for the briefest of seconds before her vision shifts back to Roarke. “Nice to meet you,” I say.
“Aspen, this is Hannah, my girlfriend.”
Roarke might miss the slight fall of her smile, but he’s not a woman. A woman who is scrutinizing this entire situation.
“Oh,” she says. “I didn’t know.”
“And you two know each other how?” My finger wavers between the two.
Roarke runs his fingers through his hair. A telltale sign that it’s a question he’s unsure how to answer and for a second I regret asking. Until the independent woman stands strong inside of me and says it is my business.
“Well…” Aspen looks to Roarke for an answer.
“We’re friends. I helped her out once.”
Helped her out with an orgasm, I’m sure.
Then it dawns on me. I guess she could be a client and under the client-lawyer confidentiality agreement Roarke might not be able to tell me much more than what he said.
“That’s nice. How he always helps everyone out.”
Even I realize how stupid my comment is, but this is uncomfortable and I have a dog that won’t stop pulling on her leash every damn time a bird flies overhead, which is all the time down by the lake.
“Yeah, he’s like a male Mother Teresa,” Aspen says, humor lighting her crystal blue eyes.
Roarke smiles tightly.
“Well, have a great day, Aspen. Perfect day for a run.”
He looks up at the sky and grabs a backpack leaning against the rock, then swings it over his shoulder and untangles the leash from my hands.
“Great running into you,” she says. “You know how to find me if ever…” Her gaze falls to me and her words trail off. “Nice to meet you, Hannah.”
She sets off in a light jog down the sidewalk. Roarke starts walking in the opposite direction and I chance a look over my shoulder, finding her running backward staring at us. She quickly spins around when she spots me and disappears between the other runners and bikers on the path.
“She’s cute.” My tone suggests there’s something more than he’s already mentioned.
His arm weighs heavy over my shoulders and he pulls me into his side. “You already claimed me, remember?” When my only response is an evil eye, he waggles his eyebrows. “I like you jealous. I’ll show you tonight how much you don’t need to be though.”
The usual electric bolt hits its intended target between my legs and I decide to try not to let the mystery girl ruin our day.
“So, what are your plans?” I ask.
His arm slides off my shoulders, and he captures my hand. “You want to know what I have planned for tonight or for right now?”
I hip check him. “Now, Casanova.”
He chuckles, stopping us mid-path and a few people grumble having to walk around either side of us. His lips capture mine and I forget about all the people upset about being disrupted and lose myself in his masterful tongue that does crazy things to my sanity.
Drawing our kiss to a close, his hands don’t leave my hips and his forehead falls to mine. “You are the only woman I’m seeing.”
“I never asked.”
“The question was implied and I want you to always remember that. I’m not that type of man.”
He waits until I nod that I’ve heard him, and my heart that’s already way too invested pleads desperately to believe him. Unfortunately, Roarke will suffer the consequences from the man who fell in line before him. I remember Todd telling me something similar right after I caught him in a lie about working late. He went on and on about how much he loved me and asked me questions like what kind of an idiot would he be if he cheated on me? I’m regretful now that I believed him, but Roarke has given me no reason to think anything is amiss. One weird phone call and a run in at a park where he asked me to meet him aren’t reasons to assume I’m not the only woman in his life.
“Come on. The wine is probably losing its chill,” he says.
He takes my hand and we fall in line after an eager Lucy toward a patch of grass.
For the rest of the afternoon, Roarke feeds me watermelon with cheese and crackers while I sip an expensive glass of Pinot Grigio. We lay on a plaid blanket that to my surprise doesn’t have square indents that would imply he just took it out of the package this morning. Our shoes are off, and we gaze out at the lake.
“What a beautiful day,” I say, eyeing Lucy playing with a few kids from the multi-family cookout a few feet away. She’s laying on the ground letting them pet her belly.
“It’s only beautiful because you’re here with me.” Roarke’s hip meets mine, his arm behind my back and his lips on my bare shoulder.
“You and your lines. You know they usually say that a man who has so many lines is not truthful.”
I look at the boats out on the water that are spurring the waves to crash a little higher over the cement ledge.
“Who says that?” He continues to kiss my shoulder, his hand running up to my cheek. Turning me to face him, his lips land on mine for a second. “I only say what I feel. There’s no other agenda on my part.” He kisses me one more time, but with families nearby he keeps our affection PG.
I dig through the watermelon, searching for a piece without the frail white seeds.
“Besides,” he says, “I’ve already gotten you into bed. What would be the point of sweet talking you now?”
My hands drop, and I tilt my head with a ‘you didn’t’ expression. He chuckles and I pick up a cracker and throw it at his face.