Page 3

CHAPTER 3

MALCOLM

“No.”

My phony smile slipped. “I can condense the allotted time to ten minutes if that’s more favorable. Before practice, after practice, whatever works for you.”

Jett handed his card to the barista—who was watching our exchange with undisguised interest—as he eyed me through the fringe of his damp hair. He smelled divine. Like sandalwood, peppermint, and…man. It took everything I had not to lean in and sniff the air around him. Nope. Not going to do that . I’d already embarrassed myself by tripping through the door after the hockey team and nearly taking out a student juggling a tray of drinks.

It wasn’t the entrance I’d hoped to make, but I’d caught Jett’s attention. Not that it had done me any good. He remained stubbornly resolute, and I had no idea how to talk him into doing something he was vehemently against.

“I’d like one of those egg-and-spinach croissants too, please. And whatever he’s drinking.” Jett hooked a thumb toward me. “It’s on me.”

“No, no. Allow me.” I fumbled for my wallet, scattered my driver’s license, a debit, and a Visa card on the counter, and apologized to the barista for holding up the line.

“It’s okay. The transaction went through. You’ll have to get him next time,” she said. “You wanted oat milk, right?”

“Yes, please.” I hurried to the pickup counter, but Jett was gone.

Ding-dang it.

I sighed. I’d have to try again.

* * *

Unfortunately, Jett didn’t show up at Coffee Cave the next day.

Or the next.

I hung around for as long as I dared, but I had classes to attend and TA responsibilities. I couldn’t spend every waking moment hunting for this man, for Pete’s sake. I was either going to have to employ other stalking techniques or…give up and find a different sporty angle for my thesis.

I wrinkled my brow, deep in thought as I continued along the wide corridor of the bustling physics building. Perhaps tennis, track and field, golf, or the one with the hoop and the orange ball, or?—

My arm was jostled in the sea of students, knocking my computer bag from my shoulder. I stopped briefly to fix it and was nearly trampled by a bouncy young woman jogging toward the exit. I recognized her from the Modern Physics course I TA’d for Professor Higgins.

She doubled back to apologize. “Oops! Sorry, Mr. Maloney. I didn’t see you.”

“That’s all right, Lissa. No harm done.” I righted my glasses and smiled. “You’re in a hurry.”

“Sort of. I’m meeting some friends for a run.”

“A run,” I repeated, instantly recalling the social media posts Layla had unearthed with sunsets and sneakers. “That’s something sports people do, correct?”

Lissa jogged in place, her long ponytail swaying behind her like a pendulum. “Anyone can run. It’s easy, good exercise, and there’s a nice trail along the lake. Want to join me?”

I chuckled as if the very idea were hilarious and waved her off.

But gee, now the wheels were turning again. I was fairly sure I didn’t own any appropriate athletic attire—however, I had sneakers at home and a pair of sweatpants I occasionally slept in on cold winter nights. Those would certainly suffice.

Yes. Okay.

Now that I thought about it, I saw potential. I could catch up on my reading on a park bench and keep an eye out for the elusive hockey player. Two birds, one stone. It was a flimsy plan, but better than nothing.

Thankfully, my apartment was close to campus. I changed into sweats, slipped my textbooks into a more compact backpack, and headed to the racetrack. Excuse me—the running path. I mapped out a course, estimating that the best place to catch a jock would be at the intersection between the gymnasium and the trailhead.

Yes, I know. My machinations scared me, too. If a career in academia didn’t pan out, I could try my luck as a private detective. Multitasking was my specialty, so stakeouts would never be a bore. I could listen to the newest Science Today podcast, brush up on my electromagnetism notes, read a passage from my textbook, and…watch for slippery hockey players.

There was a good chance Jett had other plans this afternoon and that I was once again wasting precious time. But you know…I didn’t mind at all.

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon. The trees along the lakeside were a riot of red, orange, and yellow; the air was crisp and smelled faintly of crushed wet leaves and a distant bonfire. I relished the anticipatory feeling of impending holiday cheer that came before the usual stress of the season.

This was lovely.

I admired the filtered sunlight shimmering on the lake as I slipped my earbuds in and opened my textbook, delving into quantitative numbers and theorems with enthusiasm.

I stayed vigilant, though. I eyed every jogger, noticed parents pushing strollers or herding young children. I watched older kids ride by on bicycles and skateboards, and couples holding hands. The light faded to a hazy hue and the crisp air turned cool.

No, it was downright cold now, and my stomach gurgled incessantly. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. Maybe breakfast. Well, to heck with electricity and magnetism—I’d rather think about food.

I closed my book and slipped my earbuds out as I mentally catalogued the contents of my pantry, hoping a trip to the market wasn’t in order. Pasta was always a winner, or I could try to make my mom’s chicken casserole recipe with?—

“You’re following me, huh?”

I jolted, my pulse skyrocketing at the sight of the sweaty shirtless masculine hunk towering over me, water bottle in hand.

“I’m—what? No, I was…” I cleared my throat, shamelessly stalling as I gathered my belongings. “That is to say, I’m going for a run. I couldn’t pass up an hour soaking in the sunshine with a sweet read, but?—”

“ Essential Electromagnetism .” Jett craned his head to read the title of my textbook, then shot a wicked lopsided grin my way. “That sounds exciting.”

“It is,” I assured him, stuffing the book into my backpack. “But that’s enough fun for me. I was just about to take to the trails…as they say.”

“Oh, is that what they say?” He uncapped his water bottle.

My gaze snagged on the slide of his Adam’s apple before traveling the planes of his toned, tattooed torso. I gulped. It was probably audible too and yes, that was embarrassing, but it couldn’t be helped. Jett Erickson was an imposing and exceptionally striking man. In addition to being undeniably attractive, he was built like a Greek god. Adonis in the flesh.

“Uh…” I opened and closed my mouth like a codfish, willing myself to focus. I stood abruptly, tugging at the sleeves of my sweatshirt and studiously averting my eyes as he finished the water and tossed the bottle into the recycle bin next to the bench. “I’m going to stretch the ol’ limbs and get some exercise.”

Jett furrowed his brow. “You’re going out now? It’s gonna be dark in twenty minutes, Maloney.”

“That’s okay. I have pepper spray in the improbable event that I’m accosted or?—”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?” I lifted my brows in my most imperious fashion, hoping to convey the steely will of someone dedicated to physical health and fitness.

I failed.

Jett rolled his eyes and checked his watch. “If you really want to run, I’ll do a mile with you. It’ll give me a chance to tell you that I’m not going to change my mind about being your science experiment again.”

I frowned. “I didn’t ask you to be the experiment. I simply need your data to?—”

“Save it, Maloney. We’re running here.”

“All right. Let me get organized.” I zipped my backpack and set it on my shoulders. Ignoring his amused scrutiny, I tightened the drawstring on my sweats and attempted my version of a lunge. “Don’t laugh. Stretching is important. It improves flexibility and reduces the risk of injury.”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not laughing. I promise. But can I give you a tip? ’Cause you’re not really stretching. You’re just sort of leaning on your heel.”

I sputtered as Jett bent to push my left leg behind me, forcing me into a wider stance. “What are you— ow .”

“Relax and breathe.” He stood, gesturing for me to switch feet as he whipped a tee from the waistband of his shorts and pulled it over his head. “Good. Now, give me your bag.”

“Why?” I asked, already missing my view of pecs and abs.

He gently tugged the backpack from me without replying, letting it slip precariously close to the ground before pantomiming someone hefting a sack filled with boulders.

The charade was…well, rather humorous.

“This weighs at least ten pounds. It’ll only slow you down, and there’s no need for that. I’ll carry it.”

“I’m perfectly capable of?—”

“Keep stretching, professor.”

He talked me through a few poses, and after what felt like twenty minutes but was probably closer to two, Jett declared us ready to begin.

He set a slow and steady pace along the generous pathway. And other than occasionally coaching me to breathe through my nose and out through my mouth, he was quiet. His strides were long but measured, his gaze fixed forward, a serene expression on his sinfully sexy profile…as if he truly enjoyed this tedious form of outdoor exercise.

Me? Not a fan. At all.

Number one: it was difficult to gather my thoughts and maintain a conversation while simultaneously worrying about tripping on shoelaces and coughing up a lung. Number two: I was well aware that I was making a fool of myself in the presence of a real-life athlete. Jett wasn’t winded in the slightest, his words weren’t garbled, and he hadn’t needed a single break.

“The…device you’d wear…is…unintru-sive,” I heaved, slapping one sneaker in front of the other, my elbows flailing at my sides. “You wouldn’t…notice…it. And as I…mentioned…”

Jett stopped abruptly, hands on hips. “Is there water in your backpack?”

I nodded, slumping against a nearby tree as he fished the canister out, unscrewed the top, and handed it over. I thanked him. At least I’d intended to. I’d lost the ability to form a continuous sentence. “Thank you” came across as “th-ank…y-ou.”

I swept my hand across my forehead and sighed. “Running is…fun, isn’t it?”

Jett smiled. “It can be, but I think what we’re doing is more of a light jog.”

“Po-ta-toes, po-tah-toes.”

He pursed his lips as if to curb a burst of laughter, but lost the battle and snickered like a kid.

“You’re funny, Maloney.” He clapped. “C’mon, let’s keep going.”

“Oh, no, no. Just…two more minutes. Please. I haven’t gone running?—”

“Jogging.”

“In a long time,” I continued. “Not since junior high school when my sadistic physical education instructor, Mr. Engells, made us run around the track, loop after loop, once a week without fail.”

“That monster,” Jett deadpanned.

“I sense sarcasm, but I assure you it was a nightmare come true.” I took another gulp of water, and proceeded to overshare with aplomb. “My final class of the day in eighth grade was biology. It was my favorite, even though the curriculum was more of a hodgepodge of all things science—anatomy on Tuesdays, physiology and behaviorism on Thursdays. You never knew what you were going to get, but I enjoyed the snappy pace and my lab partner was always…”

“Always what?”

“Um…nice,” I hedged. “But once a week, without fail, I’d turn up to class attempting to hide a musky scent under copious layers of Axe’s bergamot and juniper essential oils deodorant. It was embarrassing. I manufactured reasons to extend lunch and either be late or miss PE all together—doctor appointments, visits to the dentist, whatever necessary. I didn’t want to miss that last class of the day, though. If my mother suspected foul play, she never let on.”

Jett snort-laughed. “So if I’m hearing you correctly, PE interfered with your adolescent love life.”

“My…what?” I sputtered while Jett chuckled like a loon. “No! I—well…no. I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. I used Axe in junior high, too. What was her name?”

“Jason Harney.”

Jett didn’t bat an eyelash. If my candor surprised him, he hid it well. Good. I hadn’t intended to come out, but if the hockey player was a bigot, this wasn’t going to work, so perhaps it was best to know now.

“You’re gay,” he stated.

I pushed away from the tree with a brusque nod. “I am.”

“Cool. I’m—” He paused, then shrugged. “That’s cool.”

We shared a look I couldn’t quantify, but the message was one of easy acceptance. So I smiled, hooking a thumb toward the path.

“Shall we sally forth?”

He tipped his chin. “We should, but…your shoe is untied.”

I glanced down and groaned. “I don’t have the strength to deal with it, and we must be close to the finish line, anyway.”

“Tie your shoe, Maloney.”

I met his amused gaze. “No.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jett grumbled and dropped to one knee to manhandle my loose shoestrings into submission.

He wasn’t gentle in the slightest, but his gruffness hardly disguised his chivalry. I stared at the top of his head in wonder and confusion. Jett Erickson was proving to be a hard egg to crack. The second I’d pegged him for being obstinate and unreasonable, he’d gone and done something utterly…sweet.

“Um…thank you.”

He nodded sharply, turning away. “Don’t mention it. Let’s get you back to civilization. It’s getting dark, and I’m hungry.”

I lost all concept of time on the return journey. My focus was alternately consumed by my aches and pains and the giant presence of the man jogging beside me. My knees hurt, my shoes were too snug, and the business of breathing while briskly shuffling my feet was more challenging than I’d imagined. But Jett was my real distraction.

I’d never spent this much time with an athlete. We simply didn’t travel in the same circles. I didn’t go to games, I could barely tell the difference between a soccer and football field, and I didn’t know the names of any teams in correlation to the cities they represented. Sure, I knew there were Eagles out there, but that could have been a baseball, hockey, or basketball organization. From where? Don’t ask me.

Other than attending the same college, we had zero, nil, naught in common. I was a grad student and physicist in training, Jett was a…

“What’s your major?” I panted, inwardly rejoicing as campus lights came into view.

“Business.”

See? Nothing in common.

Yet I felt oddly comfortable with him.

I stopped at the end of the path and braced my hands on my knees.

“That…was…fun.”

Jett snickered. “Yeah. Do you live nearby?”

I straightened, flailing my right arm meaningfully. “That way. S’walkable.”

“No, hang tight. I’ll give you a ride. I just have to grab my keys from the locker and?—”

“Don’t. It’s okay. I’m perfectly capable of walking home,” I assured him.

“All right, then.” Jett slipped my backpack off and gently set it on my shoulders. “You’re all set. Have a good one.”

I waved, catching myself before he disappeared into the shadows. “Wait! Did you agree to my experiment? I can’t remember.”

Jett pivoted, the lamplight shining on him like a spotlight. “No.”

I hung my head in defeat. “Oh. Drats.”

He chuckled. “Drats? I like you, Maloney.”

“Then do the darned experiment. Please.” Was I begging? Maybe. Pride be damned.

Jett walked toward me again, his eyes narrowed menacingly—and grinned.

My, oh my…he was beautiful.

“Okay…fine. I’ll do it.”

I gasped in delight and relief. “Thank you! You won’t regret this. I promise to?—”

“One time only.”

“That won’t be sufficient, but you know what? I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I accept your generous assistance. When can we begin? Tuesdays and Thursdays aren’t?—”

“I remember,” he intercepted. “How about Wednesday before practice? I can meet you at the rink at two.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m in class until three.”

“Oh.” Jett raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe next week or?—”

“After practice,” I practically shouted. “Will that work?”

Silence. An owl hooted in the distance amid the usual racket of crickets, but the wooded pathway along the lake was eerily vacant now. Except for us. Maybe that was why my heartbeat sounded louder than normal.

Or maybe it was Jett. Geez, he was intense.

“See you at five.”

“Wonderful! Excellent!” I flashed a megawatt grin and gave two thumbs-ups, stepping backward and—stumbling over my own two feet.

Jett grabbed my arm, saving me from falling flat on my behind. “Easy there.”

He was so close, I could smell the sweat and heat of him…and I liked it. More than a little.

Yes, Jett Erickson was a decidedly handsome man—roguish and rough, like a pirate or a highwayman in a regency romance. Don’t judge. I’d read a few of those. However, he wasn’t my type of person. He was too big, too mysterious, too sporty, and probably too straight…all of which made him bad infatuation material.

I cleared my throat and primly adjusted my glasses. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Jett tipped his chin, his lips curling at one corner. “Later, Maloney.”

“Later,” I repeated, waving as he walked away.

When I was sure he was gone, I pumped my fist in the air triumphantly. Yes! I’d done it. I had my jock.

Now I just had to collect data, run a few flawless experiments, and write a riveting piece.

Oh, yes…and not fall in lust with my hockey hero subject.

Piece of cake.