The evening sun cast long shadows across the lake trail, my regular evening jogging route. The passing weather front thickened the air and clouded the full moon hanging low on the horizon. 

It felt good to be out of the house. Shawn had come over a while ago in a prickly mood, which meant he and Olivia were bickering over some minute wedding detail. Staying would only end up sparking my protective desire to intervene, and Olivia had repeated her “be nice” instruction as soon as Shawn rang the bell. She didn’t need me hovering and shooting her fiancé filthy looks, anyway. Olivia could argue with the best of them.

I pulled out my phone to check the time and saw unread texts. Both Olivia and Sam had chastised me today for not being reachable, so I tapped the badge. The missed text was from Rue, responding to the photos I’d sent.

Rue: Nice modeling shots. If I ever break into menswear, I know who to call.

I scrolled up, confused, and saw the extra photo I’d included with the batch of dress pictures. One of those cheesy website photos they wanted for Caleb’s old company, where he and I still served on the board. I cringed and closed the image. At least I didn’t notice my mistake until after her return volley. Otherwise, I’d have been kicking myself for letting that photo slip through. 

Her compliment shouldn’t make me smile so hard, but it did. And it made it hard to remember this was a business arrangement. I reminded myself of the massive deposit I’d just sent her and ambled down the steps built into the embankment at the back of my yard. Stepping onto the dirt trail, I spotted the woman in question coming from my left behind Caleb’s place.

She slowed to a walk and pulled out an earbud. “Hi.”

“Victory lap?” I joked.

She blinked at me, confused. “Victory lap?”

“Nothing. Bad joke. I got your signed contract and just transferred the seventy-five hundred, and I’m in the midst of wedding budget hell.” 

The cheer of her greeting evaporated. Now I was definitely kicking myself. I wasn’t usually one to put my foot in my mouth so fast and so completely.

She wiped her neck with the towel, then fixed me with a steady look. “If you’re worried about getting your money’s worth, tell me.”

I figured the truth would work better than backing off now. Rue was too perceptive. “I’m not going to lie. I choked a little when I opened your proposal, but it’s not that much more than Olivia’s original dress, which took months.”

She squared her shoulders and faced me, all pretense of a casual encounter gone. “You said budget wasn’t an issue when we started. But if you want something less elaborate, we should talk about that now. I don’t want to have mismatched expectations tomorrow at the design studio.”

“Olivia’s already fallen in love with your design. I’m sure you know that,” I said, hoping to smooth her feathers, but the words came out wrong again. 

Her eyes hardened to polite iron. “I know you feel under the gun, so it might seem like I’ve got you over a barrel, but this is a rush job on a custom gown. I will give Olivia exactly what she wants, so she looks and feels exactly how she wants on her wedding day.”

“I know. I just had brief sticker shock. It’s New York pricing,” I countered.

“I’m a New York designer.” She straightened, power in every line of her body despite the workout clothes. “Last year, I showed at Paris Fashion Week.”

“You showed one dress at an exhibition.”

A knowing smile curved her lips. “You checked up on me. Which article did you read? Town and Country or maybe Bon Ton?”

“Both. I was curious.” What started as wanting to see more of her work turned into a deep dive on everything there was to discover online about Rue Benson.

“Then you know that next year I’m getting my own show.” She stepped closer, and despite the height difference, I felt like she was looking down at me. “Think of it this way. You’re getting a Paris designer for cheap.”

Her smile turned coquettish and a touch patronizing when I didn’t immediately respond. 

“You won’t regret it.”

I couldn’t argue with her logic, and she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my ire. At least I knew what I was getting for the money with Rue. 

The questionable value of escalating wedding expenses was one topic causing stress back at the house. Olivia asked Shawn about what his DJ friend was charging. I’d thought the fee was a little steep, but then they assured me he was some hot DJ from Miami. The wedding planner told me it wasn’t entirely out of line, and I was trying not to nitpick. I trusted Olivia to be responsible. She wasn’t a spendthrift.

“I know you’re the person for the job. I think Olivia might even be a little glad the dress she picked out with her mother went MIA. I don’t mean to imply that you’re gouging us or that we’re not happy. She’s getting exactly what she wanted,” I said.

And I got to meet you.

“Let’s start over?”

I lifted my brows, smiled, and extended a hand. She tipped her head to the side and surveyed me, but shook it.

“See you in Dallas tomorrow then.”

As she moved past me, I turned to follow. “Mind if I join you?”

“Isn’t this the direction you just came from?”

“Not really. I live up there.” I pointed up the slope. “Sometimes I run this way, sometimes I go the other way. Doesn’t make a difference to me. Unless you wanted to be alone.”

She drew her lower lip between her teeth and shifted her weight from one leg to another. Her lack of an immediate answer was an answer.

“I’ll leave you to it,” I said, prepared to go back the other direction.

“No. I don’t mind the company,” she said, so I stopped. “As long as I don’t hold you back. I just want to catch the last bit of sun before it sets and get some movement in after spending the day in the workroom. You’re probably used to something more intense.” She leaned over and used the hem of her fitted tank to wipe her neck, then straightened. The fabric stretched taut for a minute at her chest as she tugged it back down.

I swallowed hard. “Not these days. My knees like me to take it slow.”

She took off again, and I launched into an easy pace beside her. The thunder of an approaching late spring storm rumbled in the distance.

“I hate this weather,” she said.

I glanced up at the darkening sky. “It’s that time of year.”

“That’s what I remember about living down here. These storms. My senior year was when that tornado hit Athens. Those people died.” She shivered. “I remember the sirens. Scared the hell out of me.”

“This one’s not expected to be that bad. Just a thunderstorm.”

“I hope so.” She put her other earbud in the form-fitting pocket of her jogging tights. 

Rue was average height, maybe five foot four, but had long, muscled legs, generous hips, and a narrow waist. I focused on the feel of the ground pounding against my feet and tried not to think about her perfect hourglass figure.

“How long has it been since you lived in Bliss?”

I knew the answer, but wanted to keep the conversation going.

Her answers were polite but distant. One minute she’d smile, and I’d feel that spark of connection. The next, she’d retreat behind a wall of courtesy that made me feel like a foolish old man for trying to get to know her.

“Twelve years.”

“And you were only here for your senior year?”

“Did I tell you that?”

“No,” I admitted. “I remembered from what your mother told me when I met her.”

Rue glanced at me. “So you know how long it’s been since I lived here.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t feel like I needed to answer her. Was she challenging my politely disingenous question or flirting? I rarely had trouble deciphering female flirtation.

When we met, that was flirting. But now? All business.

But, of course, she’d be all business. I was now a client.

“That means you graduated the same year as my future son-in-law.”

She increased her pace, so I did too.

“Yeah.”

“Did you know him?”

“Not well.” She flicked her gaze toward me again. “Just the one year.”

“Do you have any friends in Bliss?”

“Teri Eason and I keep in touch.”

“Carl Eason’s daughter. She’s a dancer.”

“She performs with a modern dance company in Manhattan and teaches at a studio in Brooklyn.”

I jogged faster to see if she’d match me, and she did, huffing a little as I stretched my stride. She laughed, but it came out close to a cough.

“This is…what I…was afraid of.”

I slowed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m too in my head today to go all out—especially since I don’t know the trail.”

I touched her shoulder and scooted to a stop. “What’s going on?”

Rue slammed on the brakes and turned, bending over with her hands on her knees. “My mother is being stubborn about…everything. She needs surgery. She needs someone to cover her work while she recovers. She’s mad because I won’t stay down here and, honestly, because I left in the first place. It’s easier to ignore all that when I don’t come down here.”

“I’m sure she just misses you. I miss my kids.”

“You have more than Olivia?”

I grinned. “I have another daughter. Becca. She’s nineteen, and she and her sister are very different.”

Rue wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “How so?”

“Olivia is a girly girl. As much as she complains about her mother, she’s just like her in a lot of ways. Becca is quieter, less interested in fashion and putting herself out into the world to get attention.”

“I was about to ask if she was more like you, but that doesn’t sound like you.”

I slanted a smile at her. “You just met me.”

Rue tipped her head back with a hearty laugh. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“So what sounds like me?” I challenged. 

Her brow crinkled. “I don’t know. I’m going off all the pictures of you all over town and your celebrity status. Everyone knows you. Everyone talks about you. And I hear you charmed the pants off all the girls in high school.”

I chuckled. “You’ve either been talking to Aneka or Natalie.”

“Natalie.”

“She overstates my appeal, and yet has never succumbed to it. And I tried back in the day. I got nothing.” I clutched at my chest. “Really kneecaps the old self-esteem.”

Rue’s lashes fluttered up, and she shielded her face from the setting sun, low on the horizon. “You’re doing fine in that department, I think.”

“Ouch. You think I’m arrogant?”

“No. Confident. And I’m not mad at it.” She lifted her palms in surrender. “I respect it.”

Her declaration pumped my self-esteem up five more notches. I shouldn’t care what she thought of me, but I did. The urge to have her like me was as irresistible as the way she nibbled at her lip when she was thoughtful or nervous.

“I respect your hard driving negotiation skills. You’re quite the businesswoman,” I said, cutting myself off before I undermined my praise with “for your age.”

Rue nipped at her lip again. “Thanks.”

I ignored her hint of sarcasm and shifted to teasing.

“And if that means I have to sell pints of blood to pay for your expertise, so be it.”

“I’m sure you won’t have to lose bodily fluids.”

Her comment sent my mind reeling in another direction, but I reined it in.

“I don’t know. This wedding is getting nuts. I’m out here because in there,” I began and flung my thumb over my shoulder, “is getting tense. The minute you say the word ‘wedding.’ ‘Oh, it’s a wedding? Mark it up twenty percent.’”

She laughed.

“Do I sound like an old man?” I asked, not liking the nerves turning in my gut as I awaited her answer.

“No. You sound like a father of the bride.” Rue’s voice softened, and she started moving again. I followed. Her eyes darted away, then back to mine with a brightness that seemed a little false. “Anything for your baby girl, right?”

I sighed. “Anything is turning into everything.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

I knew her mother was a widow when she moved to town. Asking about her father seemed too personal. Before I could decide what to say, Rue spoke up.

“My dad was like that. He’d have done anything for me. I miss that.”

“When did he pass away?”

She ran a little faster. “He got sick my junior year and died that May. It’ll be thirteen years ago next month.”

“I’m sorry. That’s tough at that age. Or any age, I guess. My dad died seven years ago. It’s not any easier when you’re forty.”

“Your daughters are lucky to have you,” she said.

“I hope they are.”

“No boys. That must be tough for a for a football guy who does all that…” She trailed off with a laugh before adding, “That manly man stuff.”

I snickered. “Not really. I like having daughters. I did all the things I would have done if I had sons, and my wife handled the girly stuff. Like I said, Olivia took to that kind of thing like a duck to water. Becca is what we used to call a tomboy. But she hates that term. She hates labels in general.”

“Oh, I’d love to meet her.”

“You will. She’s coming in with her mom tomorrow afternoon. She’s the best woman.”

“I look forward to meeting them both.”

My pulse raced ahead of our still leisurely pace when I thought of Rue meeting Sam. My ex and I mostly got along, but there’s no telling what she’d say about me. She liked to joke about my alleged shortcomings—like she didn’t have some of her own.

“We’ll try to keep the family drama to a minimum.” I nudged her, and she elbowed me back.

“That’s the best part of a wedding—as long as it’s not mine.” Her laugh boomed and faded over the water.

“You don’t want to get married?”

“I don’t want wedding drama. I’m not against getting married.” Rue hesitated. “I look forward to it—if I find the right man.”

The blend of doubt, longing, and wonder in her tone suggested that would be like finding a unicorn with the secret to rare magic.

“Do you have your wedding all planned in your head? The dress. Some exotic destination venue.”

“I have a romantic side,” she demurred.

“So it’s not all cutthroat business?”

“I envision a lot of things for myself. Marriage is one part of it.”

“I can see you in some fabulous Manhattan apartment with your kid on the waiting list for a fancy daycare. Hogging the sidewalk with one of those annoying, bougie prams the price of a Texas mortgage payment.”

“That’s an awfully specific and accurate vision of some Upper West Side mama,” Rue said with a snicker.

“I played my last two seasons in New York. I’m familiar with the breed.”

We went to the conference championship my first year there. I still had a big fan base in New York, even if that didn’t include a certain sports-oblivious fashion designer.

“Ah. That’s how you understand the plague of strollers on the sidewalk.”

“I chose to live in Manhattan.”

“With your wife and two kids? That’s a big shift from…St. Louis?” She guessed.

“Kansas City.”

“Right.”

“I was on my way to a divorce by then. My ex and kids stayed behind. It wasn’t fun.” That was an understatement, but I didn’t like to wallow in the past.

Rue cleared her throat in response to the awkward silence. I wondered if she had a current prospect for her groom.

 “My vision doesn’t include a stroller. I see marriage, but I don’t see kids. Ever.” 

Her words seemed to surprise her as much as they did me. Her eyes widened. 

“Don’t tell my mom that. I’ve never told her. Or anyone.” She shook her head with a nervous laugh. “Natalie said you have a way of getting people to confess things to you. What are you, some kind of witch?”

“I’ll never tell.”

Our laughter echoed across the water. The path curved around the lake toward the north side. I rarely ran all the way around. About fifty yards ahead, an arched wooden bridge extended over a narrow section of the lake, joining the two sides and keeping the size of the boats you can launch to a size that minimized noise for those who lived around it.

I continued, “I always knew I wanted kids. I wanted more than two. Samantha didn’t. But I was still playing, and she was home alone with the girls a lot. More kids would have just put more burden on her.”

“You can have more now. Lots of divorced men find someone and start a new family.” Rue leaped over a rock, then slowed.

I shook my head. “My kids are grown. I’m not starting over now. Diapers and spit up and baby proofing? I’m past that, but I enjoyed the experience the first time around.”

My next family expansion was, hopefully, as grandpa, though not anytime soon. Even with Olivia getting married, I was in no rush for that, especially with her marrying Shawn. They both had maturing to do before they took on the responsibility of children.

“Have you ever considered having kids?” I asked.

“No. My mom sacrificed a lot for me, and maybe I’m selfish, but I don’t feel called to do the same.”

“It’s not selfish.”

She seemed surprised by my response. “You don’t think so? I’ve been called that.”

“By whom? I can’t imagine anyone is telling you that your life should be other than what it is.” Was she even thirty yet? She’d accomplished so much, building a career and a business from scratch.

“I’ve lost relationships over it.” Her jaw tightened. “My last couple of boyfriends wanted me to need them more than I needed my work. I just value my self-sufficiency and my freedom. I don’t see that changing.”

The way she explained herself crystallized something I’d never been able to grasp about my post-divorce dating life. Every woman I met either wanted me to take care of them or thought they needed to take care of me. I wanted a partner—not a sugar baby, not a nurse. Samantha and I were in it together for a while, but we didn’t want the same things either.

As I neared retirement and thought about what came after football, Samantha expected me to stay home with her in Kansas City and throw myself into the social scene she loved. Instead, I invested in Caleb’s company and took on a board position, resisting her attempts to have me join her dad’s investment firm. He’d created some made up position designed to keep me flush with money but with little to do except glad hand.

I couldn’t understand why she thought I’d ever work for her dad.

She couldn’t understand why, whenever the kids got out of school, I immediately loaded them on a plane to see as much of the world as I could before heading back for training camp. Sometimes Samantha would come with us, and sometimes she’d badger me into staying home. She’d called me a Peter Pan and told me to join the real world. Eventually, we agreed on nothing except splitting up.

It was hard, but I liked my life now. I enjoyed having a home base in Bliss, but traveling the world, trying new businesses, and being free to experience whatever might come next. My entire life until retirement had been regimented according to other people’s plans: football season, training calendars, detailed eating schedules planned down to the calorie.

I was done.

“You’ve fought hard to run your own show,” I said. “And you’re not giving that up for anything.”

“Exactly.”

Lightning illuminated the ferocious resolve in her eyes. I’d seen that look on linemen’s faces and met it with one of my own. Warrior energy was comfortable to me, and Rue had that swagger. The air zipped with an electricity from more than just the approaching storm.

I slowed our pace as we approached the bridge. “We can cut across here and take a short loop back.”

She nodded and followed. Our shoes pounded on the wood in a pattern of dull thumps.

“I feel guilty sometimes,” Rue said. “Mom would love being a grandma, and that’s not happening.”

“I’m looking forward to being a grandfather, but if my kids don’t want kids, I’ll understand. I’ll bet your mother knows by now that you live by your own rules,” I said. “You should tell her. Fear doesn’t suit you.”

Rue stopped entirely midway and turned her face to the night sky. A near perfect silver sphere on the water’s surface mirrored the sky.

“Should we howl?” she asked.

I answered her with a warbled wolf howl that slid into laughter. She offered two yelps before releasing a melodic canine croon.

“Your neighbors are going to think we’re crazy.” She stretched and smoothed the edges of her hair.

I threw an arm around her shoulders and leaned into her ear. “My neighbors are mostly my friends. They know I’m crazy.”

Getting so close was probably a mistake. Rue smelled like coconut and rain. My skin heated from my scalp to toes. I wiggled them in my running shoes as if that would disperse the tension coursing through me. She rotated into my embrace and peered up.

“So this isn’t the wildest thing you’ve ever done?”

I dipped closer, her scent and her heat driving even wilder thoughts through my brain. “Not even close.”

She smiled and licked her lips. Her warm breath tingled my neck and rearranged the blood flow in my body. The humidity wrapped around us like a cocoon with the growing darkness creating an intimate bubble. A few fat raindrops fell, but they felt refreshing. I needed a cold shower.

Rue spun away, bending down to check the perfectly secured laces on her shoes.

“We should head back before we get sucked up by a tornado like The Wiz.”

“Your shoes are red. Just click them together.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works, but…” She paused, then took off running as she shouted, “I’ll race you!”

Even with the headstart, I easily caught up with her a few feet from the other side of the bridge on our way back to where I’d spotted her near the stairs to my property.

“Dammit!” she yelled. “What are you, an athlete or something?”

“You thought you had youth on your side, but I was a scrambler.” I thrust my arms up and danced side to side.

Rue cackled. “I’m taking my slow ass home.”

Her cute, slow ass.

I smiled. “Next time, give yourself a bigger head start. You can’t sleep on my speed.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible winner.”

“I need to be bad at something. Otherwise, I’d be insufferable.”

“Oh, my god!” she yelled. “See you tomorrow.”

She dashed away right befor the deluge unleashed over the lake in earnest. I double-timed it back to the house and realized I was still grinning like a teenager.

***

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