Forgiving Patience (10 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Simpkins

BOOK: Forgiving Patience
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The elderly couple holding hands was
up ahead, venturing off the track and probably leaving to beat out the storm
that was brewing. The sight of them from behind looked reassuring, indicating
that sometimes love works out and people do stay together for the long haul.
She instantly thought of Georgia and her bright outlook on life and love. Those
were good thoughts to have since she was a bridesmaid for her best friend’s
wedding. She needed to have zero negative thinking when she was helping plan a
life-changing event. It didn’t take her long to pass the couple. She gave a
short wave and continued down the track.

She was quickly losing daylight, and
just like eleven years ago, only the light poles that lined one side of the
track worked. Anna knew she was the only one left on the track, which meant she
was all alone in the dark. The thought should’ve frightened her just a bit, but
instead, it just made her feel alone, and that was something she didn’t mind
being.

Every part of the track was vivid in
her mind—every dip, incline—and the darkest spot that made her pick up speed.
That part of the track hugged some woods, and on stormy nights when the wind
whipped through the trees, it could cause sounds that made one jump and curse
someone for not fixing the broken lights. Anna had intentionally left her music
blaring to block out the rustling of leaves. She picked up what speed she could
muster. Her legs and chest could feel the strain she was putting on them.
That’s when something grabbed her from behind.

A strong arm reached around her
waist, bringing her to an abrupt halt, throwing her iPod to the pavement, and
ripping the earphones from her thudding ears. A scream settled in her throat,
too scared to even be released.

Oh
God, what’s happening?
Anna’s body jerked in every direction possible. Sucking in whatever air was
available, she prepared herself to fight. Her right leg found balance and
kicked back until it came in contact with her assailant’s body. That broke his
grasp long enough for her to slip out of his muscular grip. As his callused
hands scratched across her mid-section, a chill ran through her and caused a
tear to fall down her already damp cheek. She knew he was actually a man, but
the trace of his hand made the thought seem more real. More tears fell from her
frightened eyes, blurring her vision. The attacker slowed, but only for a
second. She started running, her legs feeling weak. But she didn’t have far to
go. The exit was in her sight, and she just needed to make it…she had to. Her
pulse was beating in time with the movements of her legs, or at least that’s
what it felt like. She wanted to scream, but nobody was around to hear her
cries. And she needed to save what air she had for whatever happened next.

The thudding of shoes meeting
pavement coming from behind her was moving closer. She refused to doubt
herself, and she was not going to be a victim. That outcome was unacceptable.
She could hear hollering, or maybe it was the sound of her blood pounding in
her ears. She took the chance to glance back and stopped dead in her tracks.

She knew the man. He stopped running
when she turned. He was bent over and obviously in some kind of pain, but
trying not to show his weakness. Strands of his dark brown hair were wet from
sweat. When she had secretly watched a few of his games, watching him sweat in
the scorching heat, seeing him lunging after a grounder was her favorite part.
Men in those types of pants should be considered illegal.

Tennis shoes, running shorts, and a
faded gray T-shirt clung to a well formed chest that would be considered a
dream to any woman alive.

She wanted to scream at him, but the
look in his eyes had her holding her breath. Instead, she swallowed the words
attempting to flow from her mouth. He looked dangerous, but not in a run for
your life kind of way. A pointed stare sent a chill up her spine, causing her
to tremble. Her feet felt bolted to the asphalt, forcing her to face the man
she’d thought was attacking her.

He walked with the slight limp she’d
expected to see the first day she saw him. Oh God. She’d kicked him and now he
was hurting. She wanted to force her legs to move and rush to him, make him sit
and rest, or insist he go to the hospital to get an X-ray. The injury to his
knee had cost him so much. The anger, her fright, and the hundred other
emotions running through her veins were gone, because now she was only
concerned about Jake.

She let him make his way to her. She
knew he would only resent her for recognizing his weakness and rushing to his
side. Anna respected the fact that he had pride and didn’t want to show any
weakness. And in her own way, she understood. She wouldn’t ask him about his
accident; she wouldn’t ask him if he was hurt, or how he’d recovered from it.

Composed and seemingly recovered from
his pain, he asked, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He sounded genuinely
concerned.

“No, I’m fine. I just thought you
were someone else. I’m good now.” That was somewhat of a lie—she didn’t like
the fact she still cared so strongly for him.

A working light pole shone above him.
She couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but she already knew they were
sapphire-blue, and right now they looked dark and hard. His features couldn’t
hide the emotions that resided behind them.

It was only natural that she
recognized the look of fury, hurt, and confusion. She saw it in her own eyes
when she looked in the mirror most days. It was frustration at not being able
to change the situation you were dealt with in life. The only thing that could
make Jake feel those kinds of emotions was the ending of his baseball career.

“What are you doing here by
yourself?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“I’ve been coming here most of my
teenaged life. It’s always been safe. It still is, unless you were really
trying to attack me.”

A slight grin formed. “I’m beginning
to think I’m just your go-to guy when you need to blame someone. First with the
whole car incident, and now me attacking you.”

“Maybe you should quit giving me
reasons to make you my go-to guy.”

“Yeah, I guess I could do that, but
you look so damn cute when you wrinkle up your forehead and try to take
charge.”

Like last night, his eyes softened
and looked playful in the light.

“What is wrong with you? I yelled out
your name several times.”

“I had my iPod. Which you ripped from
my ears.” She pointed down the track, where her iPod probably lay scattered in
a thousand mini pieces.

“I would say that wasn’t my fault,
but I don’t feel like listening to you rant about me and responsibilities
again. So what I will say is—if your iPod happens to be broken, I will buy you
a new one, deal?” He gave a gentlemanly bow. He knew how to work his charm.

“I say that’s smart.”

“I just say it’s way easier than
arguing with a stubborn woman.” He ran his callused hand through his unruly
hair, pushing long, unkempt pieces out of his eyes.

“If you weren’t here to attack me,
then what are you doing here?”

She hated that she was foolish enough
to be spooked so easily. But what was she supposed to think? It was getting
dark, she was alone, and someone grabbed her from behind. Any sane person would
have reacted the same way. While Patience had been a small, sit-on-the
porch-with-a-glass-of-sweet-tea town when she’d lived here—things change. How
was she supposed to know it was Jake behind her?

“Just the same as you…running,
enjoying the fresh air, killing time. I come here a couple times a week. This
body doesn’t keep up on its own.”

She’d figured out the hard way that a
body required healthy eating and exercise to stay in shape. It was irritating
to see him the way he was and well…while she was way out of shape. That was
it—she was making it a goal to get her butt down to the track a couple times a
week herself. No more late night chocolate. All women around the world were
being told a complete lie—chocolate was not a girl’s best friend. She needed a
new best friend, and that was going to be running—or at least brisk walking.

Of course, why else would someone
come to the walking track? She remembered a time when they’d come here together
and wondered if he remembered those night walks or early morning runs.

“Why are you?”

“Why am I what?”

“Why are you here past dark? Most
people come down here before sunset.”

He looked at her from her feet up to
her chest, but his gaze stopped there. Crap. She’d forgotten that she only was
wearing a flimsy, thin piece of fabric called a sports bra under her large
vintage T-shirt. Just great. Why couldn’t she have worn something a little bit
more presentable out in public? Now she was paying the price.

“Well, I have to say this look on you
comes in a close second to last night’s dress. While the shirt is a little big,
the shorts leave little for me to imagine. I love skimpy clothes on a woman.”

Along with her T-shirt, she wore
cotton shorts that might have been considered a little too tight, but that was
only because of the weight she’d gained. They had not been deliberately bought
to show off her
long and lean legs
.

“What? These are not skimpy clothes.
You make me feel like a slut or something.”

“I’m not complaining. Like I said, I
love the look.”

She didn’t think he was insulting
her, but where did he get off calling her clothes skimpy. “Well, like I said
before—I don’t care what you think about me or my clothes.”

“But, don’t you?”

Though it was hard to turn from those
piercing eyes, she did. Heat started at her neck and worked its way upward.
Damn curse. She couldn’t hide her irritation, attraction, or any other passion
she secretly felt…except it couldn’t be a secret because it literally showed
all over her face.

Jake instinctively grabbed her arm
before she could run away again. “I don’t mean to be offensive.”

She couldn’t help her gaze dropping
to the part of her arm he held firmly in his grip, but only for a second. “I
think you do.”

His hold weakened just a bit, but she
could feel he wasn’t ready to completely let her go. “No, I don’t. I was simply
stating I don’t mind your sexy clothes, but whether you want to admit or not,
you do care what I think. You forget, I can read your face.” He used his other
hand to point to the face blazing with emotion.

“Let. Me. Go.”

“You going to run again?”

She didn’t exactly know what time in
her life he was referring to, because she’d run from most of it. For his
well-being, he’d better only be talking about a few minutes ago. When she
didn’t respond, he did the smart thing and released her arm.

She yanked her ponytail down, only to
fix it and put it up again. “You’re impossible—you’re insulting—and you’re…”
She stopped to think of another word, and came up with: “Reckless.”

“You know you love it, though.”

“Oh, let’s not forget cocky. Did the
baseball groupies stroke your ego so much that you’ve forgotten you’re not as
charming as you think?”

The biggest grin spread across his
face at that moment. He actually thought he was God’s gift to women.

“You would be shocked at what they
stroked, sweetness.”

Wow. That was not what she was
expecting. She had to pick her jaw up off the asphalt to even remotely try to
respond to that. He was original; she had to give that to him.

Knowing that what she was going to
say next was a low blow didn’t stop her one bit. If he was going to fight
dirty, she would too. “Did a baseball ever hit you in the head and cause
foot-in-mouth syndrome?”

His expression only wavered for a
second. She could almost see his mind going back to the baseball that he had
hit, causing him to try to make it home from first base, only to be rewarded
with his career ending. If she wasn’t waiting for the change in his facial
features, she probably wouldn’t have noticed. He recovered nicely, seeming
unscathed by the comment and memory.

“I’m just telling you like it is. I’m
an honest man.”

“Well, if that’s not a lie in itself.
You don’t have to go making up stories just for my benefit. I will still think
less of you.”

He laughed. “I have all the proof to
back up each and every one.”

“I’m sure you do. I bet all the
chicks at that bar I wouldn’t be caught dead in know all about you, huh?”

“Sure do. Maybe you should go down
there some time while you’re in town and ask around. The stories will make your
thighs tingle and your cheeks flush…about like they are right now.”

“Wow. You are something, Jake
Lawrence. I’ve been back for two days, have dealt with you running me off the
road, stealing my house, trying to bargain with me to get it back—and now you
scare the living day lights out of me, and you still are an asshole to me. And
don’t even say that none of this is your fault. I’ve never slapped anyone
before in my life, but I don’t mind you being my first.”

She knew he was most likely telling
the truth about him sleeping around—a baseball career had nothing to do with
that. Em had even commented on it during their visit earlier. Besides, he knew
how to do that eleven years ago; he just wasn’t so cocky about it. Well, she
really didn’t know if he was cocky or not because she didn’t stick around to
find out. Back then he had the sense enough to hide it…now he was just being
cruel.

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