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Authors: Tracie Puckett
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bothersome?” I asked. “Would you like me to go upstairs and put a shirt on?”
He closed his parted lips and shook his head. “I’m not sure we really have time for that now, Little. I guess I’ll have to suffer.”
With a quick wink and a light smirk, he walked out the door, leaving me stunned in the doorway.
Was Luke flirting with me ?
The morning sky was dark as night , and the sun hadn’t yet begun to show. I followed close behind Luke and met him on the sidewalk , where he was already bent over at the waist, touching his toes, and stretching to prep himself for the run. I stood and watched as he stretched, appreciating his loyalty to everything he did.
“You need to warm-up, Julie,” he said, glancing up. “You’ll pay for it if you don’t —”
“I’m young,” I said. “Stretching is for the elderly —”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Old enough,” I said, not disguising my disappointment for a single moment.
Luke was old—every bit of twenty three, give or take a few months, making him six years older , and in his opinion—six years too old for me.
I watched as he finished his stretch, using each moment he was bent over to my full visual advantage. He finally stood and looked up at me, the street lights dancing off his brown eyes.
“You’re really not going to stretch?” he asked.
I smiled and shrugged, hoping that would be answer enough.
It was a five-mile run. How hard could that possibly be?
And before I had time to register another thought, Luke set off on his run. I watched him from the sidewalk, knowing I’d be s colded if I didn’t soon follow, but t ook a brief moment to appreciate the alone time we ’d spend together… even if that time was limited to complete exertion.
As I took my first step forward, a light inside the neighboring house came on, attr acting my immediate attention, and t he face of a teenage girl appeared behind the curtain of the downstairs window . I turned to watch her for a moment, looking on as she stared at me intently from inside the house.
It was odd to see her there in the first place, let alone at this hour. The neighbors had moved out months ago, and last I heard , the house still hadn ’t been sold. But there was definitely someone there.
And if I didn’t know any better , I’d think she was watching me for a reason.
Wednesday September 12 , 8 am
I was ready to die one mile into the run.
Luke hadn’t taken kindly to my complaining, especially when I whined about the pain in my legs and back. You should’ve stretched, Little , he’d said over and over.
Who knew running could be so difficult?
Now, at school, the memories of the morning were still far from behind me. The aching in my legs served as a constant reminder that Luke expected only the best from me—and that required full dedication to each and every task he threw my way. If I wanted to earn his respect, I’d have to start taking him—and his tasks—seriously.
I slid into the first desk and threw a sideways glance at my cousin Matt.
“Rough morning?”
“You have no idea,” I said.
A sympathetic look crossed his face as he leaned over to pat my back. “Trigger’ll have you whipped in to shape in no time.”
Trigger: the official Oakland PD nickname for Lucas Reibeck. And yes, it had everything to do with him accidently shooting himself in the foot last year during target practice.
“I only logged an hour with him this morning,” I said. “That’s nine more hours of doing… whatever in the world he comes up with. He’s killing me —”
“ Because you’re letting him ,” he said, pushing his fingers back through his dusty blonde hair. “Just go along with his plans for the next few days, and before you know it, he’ll be gone and out of your life. You’ll never have to worry about him again.”
I didn’t need the reminder. I could only foresee another nine hours with Luke , and it pulled at my heart in ways I couldn’t even describe.
He closed his parted lips and shook his head. “I’m not sure we really have time for that now, Little. I guess I’ll have to suffer.”
With a quick wink and a light smirk, he walked out the door, leaving me stunned in the doorway.
Was Luke flirting with me ?
The morning sky was dark as night , and the sun hadn’t yet begun to show. I followed close behind Luke and met him on the sidewalk , where he was already bent over at the waist, touching his toes, and stretching to prep himself for the run. I stood and watched as he stretched, appreciating his loyalty to everything he did.
“You need to warm-up, Julie,” he said, glancing up. “You’ll pay for it if you don’t —”
“I’m young,” I said. “Stretching is for the elderly —”
“How old do you think I am?”
“Old enough,” I said, not disguising my disappointment for a single moment.
Luke was old—every bit of twenty three, give or take a few months, making him six years older , and in his opinion—six years too old for me.
I watched as he finished his stretch, using each moment he was bent over to my full visual advantage. He finally stood and looked up at me, the street lights dancing off his brown eyes.
“You’re really not going to stretch?” he asked.
I smiled and shrugged, hoping that would be answer enough.
It was a five-mile run. How hard could that possibly be?
And before I had time to register another thought, Luke set off on his run. I watched him from the sidewalk, knowing I’d be s colded if I didn’t soon follow, but t ook a brief moment to appreciate the alone time we ’d spend together… even if that time was limited to complete exertion.
As I took my first step forward, a light inside the neighboring house came on, attr acting my immediate attention, and t he face of a teenage girl appeared behind the curtain of the downstairs window . I turned to watch her for a moment, looking on as she stared at me intently from inside the house.
It was odd to see her there in the first place, let alone at this hour. The neighbors had moved out months ago, and last I heard , the house still hadn ’t been sold. But there was definitely someone there.
And if I didn’t know any better , I’d think she was watching me for a reason.
Wednesday September 12 , 8 am
I was ready to die one mile into the run.
Luke hadn’t taken kindly to my complaining, especially when I whined about the pain in my legs and back. You should’ve stretched, Little , he’d said over and over.
Who knew running could be so difficult?
Now, at school, the memories of the morning were still far from behind me. The aching in my legs served as a constant reminder that Luke expected only the best from me—and that required full dedication to each and every task he threw my way. If I wanted to earn his respect, I’d have to start taking him—and his tasks—seriously.
I slid into the first desk and threw a sideways glance at my cousin Matt.
“Rough morning?”
“You have no idea,” I said.
A sympathetic look crossed his face as he leaned over to pat my back. “Trigger’ll have you whipped in to shape in no time.”
Trigger: the official Oakland PD nickname for Lucas Reibeck. And yes, it had everything to do with him accidently shooting himself in the foot last year during target practice.
“I only logged an hour with him this morning,” I said. “That’s nine more hours of doing… whatever in the world he comes up with. He’s killing me —”
“ Because you’re letting him ,” he said, pushing his fingers back through his dusty blonde hair. “Just go along with his plans for the next few days, and before you know it, he’ll be gone and out of your life. You’ll never have to worry about him again.”
I didn’t need the reminder. I could only foresee another nine hours with Luke , and it pulled at my heart in ways I couldn’t even describe.
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