4. CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

A cool and heavy fog hung low over the island when Justine rose early Monday morning for her daily run. Yesterday morning, when she went out, the sky was clear and the last few stars of night winked at her before disappearing. But today, she could barely see twenty feet in front of her.

It was ominous and eerie, but she refused to let it deter her from getting her adrenaline pumping and that much-needed rush of dopamine. Her parents left more voicemails and sent more texts yesterday which she ignored. She told them she was on vacation, but apparently that wasn't good enough. What had they heard through the intricate hospital grapevine? Did they talk to Tad? What did he tell them?

Either way, she wasn't ready to face them. To face her mother's disapproval.

She was here on the island for some clarity, and until she found that, her parents would just have to deal with her lack of communication. With her headphones in and her favorite high-energy running mix playing, she set out through the quiet, misty cabin and pub grounds toward the laneway that led to the main road.

The island was safe. Everyone knew that.

There were no bears, wolves, cougars or wolverines lurking in the bushes licking their chops and eying her for their next meal. And the chances of getting thrown into someone's trunk and sold at auction in some sleazy underground nightclub in Vegas were slim.

She wasn't going to let the weather spook her. She was smarter than that.

Yesterday, she ran six miles—which was easy—but today she planned to run at least eight. She mapped out her route ahead of time and followed the arrow on her smart watch. Then, like she did every day, she just zoned out of the world around her, let the music pump in her ears, and her legs take her where she needed to go.

If she ran without music or with the music not loud enough, her thoughts took over and she started to go through Mr. O'Malley's surgery in her head.

She did that enough already when she wasn't running. So she made sure the music drowned out all coherent thoughts, then powered through.

The route was a loop, and she was over halfway back to the cabin when the vibration of the ground changed. She felt the presence of someone behind her. Someone coming up fast.

Oh crap.

Maybe she wasn't as safe as everyone said.

And she stupidly left her pepper spray back in the cabin.

This was how she was going to die.

Spinning around, but not stopping, she squinted at the figure approaching through the mist.

It was a man.

He wore a gray Henley, black shorts over longer tight black pants, orange running shoes, and a headlamp set on dim.

His gait was easy, but confident.

She exhaled in relief.

It was just a fellow runner.

Just another exercise enthusiast out for that daily dose of dopamine before starting their day.

He was coming up on her fast and would probably pass her, so she slowed down a bit, faced forward and kept on.

The vibration of the ground trembled again—she'd always been very intuitive to shifts in energy around her and vibrations. It wasn't something she ever mentioned to her parents or sisters because they'd all call her a weirdo, but despite her scientific upbringing and education, she did believe in certain ethereal energies and earthly vibrations. She was raised by atheists, so saying she believed in anything but cold hard scientific facts would have made her parents request a psych evaluation for her.

He grew even closer, but she didn't look behind her. There was plenty of room for him to pass without her having to move over to the shoulder. She preferred running on even terrain like asphalt or concrete. She'd twisted an ankle too many times trail running that she just avoided gravel, trails, and anything loose or uneven at all costs.

"Well, good morning," came a deep rumble through the loud Top 40 pop chanting in her ear.

He didn't pass her, but rather kept pace with her.

She glanced up and nearly rolled her ankle.

Bennett caught her. "Careful. You okay?"

They were in the middle of the road now, stopped, and he was holding her, gazing down with amused interest and a cute smirk on his full lips.

"I …" She pulled out her earbuds and let them drape over her shoulders, since she preferred the ones with a cord that wrapped around the back of her neck. "You just startled me."

"I did? But you turned around and saw me. You knew I was coming up behind you. How could I startle you?"

"I …" Heat filled her cheeks, and when she realized he still had her by an elbow and they were basically chest-to-chest, her entire body caught fire. She quickly stepped away from him, probably too far, which was a different kind of awkward now, and prompted him to quirk a brow at her. "I didn't know it was you. The fog … I just knew it was a runner and hoped you weren't a serial killer."

His smirk curled into a full-fledged grin, followed by a bark of a laugh that absolutely should not have made her nipples pebble, but it did. "A serial killer?"

She shrugged. "They're usually the last person you expect."

"We haven't had any serial killers on the island—Oh wait, never mind. I guess the chick who tried to kill Brooke was technically a serial killer. But she's dead so, all good."

Justine's mouth dropped open, and she just stared at him.

"Uh … anyway, didn't mean to spook you by sneaking up on you or telling you about the serial killer. Who, I'll emphasize again, is dead." He jerked his chin in the direction they were both running. "Shall we keep going? Do you want to finish running together, or should I leave you to it?"

"I …"

Run with him. He's hot. He's funny. He's smart and kind. And he runs. Tad didn't run. Tad ridiculed you for running. Said it was pointless and that you should participate in a real sport, like tennis or golf. RUN. WITH. HIM.

She nodded. "Sure, we can run together."

If it was even possible, his smile grew bigger and some of the fog lifted, making the morning just a fraction brighter. It had to be a coincidence, though.

He'd removed his earbuds too. The same style as hers that draped over the back of his neck and connected via magnets across his chest. She didn't put hers back in because she didn't want to be rude, and they set off at a steady lope.

"So, do you run every morning?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"I do, yeah. Do you?"

"I take Sundays off. But otherwise, yeah, every morning I'm out here at five before the girls are up. My brother, Jagger, comes and sleeps on the couch, so the kids aren't home alone. I know they're probably fine, and they stay home alone when we're all at work. But it just feels different when they're sleeping."

God, he was a good dad.

And of course, that just made him all the more appealing. All the sexier.

Crap.

All she did was smile, because what she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms and tell him how sexy he was and that she had the oddest desire to lick the bead of sweat off his upper lip.

"Do you run marathons or anything?" he asked as they continued to jog side-by-side. Even their strides were in tandem now.

She shook her head. "I just run to clear my mind. For health. It's good for the cardiovascular system."

"You've mentioned the heart a few times now. Do you have heart disease in your family or something?"

She blinked at him, which meant she wasn't staring straight ahead and caused her to veer right and they bumped shoulders.

"Sorry, that was maybe a bit too personal." He shifted away from her. "I didn't mean—"

"I was a surgeon. A cardiothoracic surgeon."

" Was ?"

"Yes. Was. " She made sure he knew she was shutting that conversation down before it even had a chance to grow wings.

"Ah, okay then. So … what kind of hobbies do you have?"

Her mouth twitched, but she stowed her smile. "I knit. Or at least I used to. It helped with dexterity and hand coordination."

"For surgery?"

"Yes."

"But you don't knit now?"

"I haven't in … a while."

"Because you're not a surgeon anymore."

"Correct."

"I like to bake cakes."

That stopped her in her tracks, and he didn't realize she'd stopped until he was six strides ahead. Her mouth hung open. "Is this some kind of a game?"

"Game?" he asked, walking back toward her, his head cocked to the side like a puppy. "No. Why would I … I'm sorry, I'm really confused."

"I have a very secret obsession with baking and decorating cakes. Like nobody knows about it. Not my parents, not my sisters, not T—" She stopped herself before she said ‘Tad'. "Nobody. It's how I relieve stress. I like fondant. I like gum paste, and modeling chocolate. I was on a farm animal kick for a while. It was also really good for precision movement. A steady hand is needed for piping icing just like it is for—"

"Surgery."

She nodded. "Yes, for surgery. But unlike knitting, I still bake. It relaxes me."

"What do you do with the cakes?"

"I take them and anonymously donate them to the children's hospital wing."

His gaze softened, and she squirmed beneath it. "My girls became obsessed with some YouTuber who does elaborate cake decorating. Then they made me make the duck cake from The Australian Women's Weekly Children's Birthday Cake Book because they saw it on Bluey. My cake was worse than Bandit's. But I'm a perfectionist. So I made another one, even though Aya's birthday had passed. Then another one, until it looked better than the one in the book—and way better than Bandit's. And soon, my nieces and nephews were having me make their cakes and a few for kids at their school." He reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out his phone. "Talia's birthday was in May—that's Clint's daughter—and I made her this mermaid cake." He flipped through a few pictures until he reached the one of the round cake covered in purple, blue, and green sparkle-dusted scales. The mermaid was cartoonish, but beautiful, sitting on a rock, surrounded by fish and shells, a small octopus and a dolphin. "I'm pretty proud of this one." He beamed.

"It's beautiful," she said in awe. "Really, really beautiful."

He was already flushed from running, but more color infused his cheeks from her compliment. "It relaxes me, too. And watching the YouTube videos and cake decorating shows on Netflix is something the girls and I bond over. They like bragging that their dad makes cakes. So it's not bad for my ego either."

"Definitely something worth bragging about."

For the first time since she met him, he actually looked a little bashful and glanced away. "Well, anyway, I'm not playing any games or trying to make fun of you. I think it's pretty cool that we both like making cakes though." He stowed his phone and indicated they should start running again.

Still a little bewildered that she found someone who shared her affinity for cake baking and decorating, it took her a moment to register what he was getting at and she just stared at him in wonder and blinked a bunch.

"Run?" he prompted.

"Oh, right. Yeah. Let's run."

They fell in line with each other again and suddenly the conversation flowed as naturally as if they'd been friends for ages. They stuck to the topic of cakes, but that carried them all the way back to the brewpub.

He could have easily parted ways with her when they reached the base of the hill leading up to his house, but he didn't. He followed her past the other cabins. They slowed to a cool-down walk when they hit the property though, their chests heaving, foreheads misted with hard-earned perspiration. Their grins matched too.

"So, without a hospital around to donate your cakes, are you taking a hiatus while on vacation?" he asked as they approached her cabin.

"I did bring most of what I would need if I wanted to bake and decorate one. That's what was in one of those totes you carted in the other day."

"Oh, I have everything you could ever imagine. You didn't have to bring stuff."

"Because I knew there was a fellow cake-freak on the island," she scoffed.

He chuckled. "Fair point."

"I dunno," she said with a carefree shrug. "I'm sure there's someone on the island who would appreciate a free cake. Unless you have the market here cornered?"

"For free cakes?" He laughed again. "I'm not sure there's such a thing as market saturation in that case. "It's almost the end of the school year and the elementary school hosts a big funfair on the field the last Friday of the year. It's a huge fundraiser, they go all out. Cotton candy machine, bouncy house, snow cones, games, prizes, you name it. I've volunteered to donate four dozen cupcakes and four cakes for the cakewalk and as prizes. I'm not sure how we came to that number, but that's what I said I'd do."

She spoke before the idea had time to fully register in her brain. "Do you want help?"

His eyes lit up. "That wasn't why I mentioned it—"

"Oh no, I didn't think that. I mean, I'm not working, you are. I don't have kids, you do. I love baking and decorating, and giving the cakes away. So it makes sense, right? Let me help." Joy spread through her until her fingertips tingled at the thought of getting to bake cakes and cupcakes, and give them to children.

"Well, I mean, if you're offering. I'd appreciate the help."

"I can do half. Two dozen cupcakes and two cakes. Any specific themes?"

"Just … fun. Make them fun." Now the way he looked at her not only sent her whole body tingling but those butterflies in her belly had recovered from their run and were now flapping about like twitterpated fools.

The front door to the cabin next to hers opened, and an older gentleman, probably in his late sixties, stepped out onto the porch in nothing but a pair of striped boxers. His belly hung over the waistband and his butt crack emerged when he lifted his arms above his head, yawned, and stretched, twisting his body away from them.

He caught them both looking at him and shot them a groggy smile. "Mornin'."

"Good morning, Mr. Angelopoulos," Bennett said, earning a wider smile from the older gentleman.

Mr. Angelopoulos grunted, nodded, then headed back into the cabin and closed the door, but not before giving them another very clear visual on his butt crack and hairy back.

Bennett snorted once the door snicked shut.

Justine snorted too, covering her mouth with ehr hand since her mother liked to remind her on any occasion she could, that snorting was incredibly unladylike, not to mention rude.

"How'd the white noise machine work last night?" Bennett asked. Was he as reluctant as she was to part ways? Because if she had any ounce of bravery, she'd invite him inside for breakfast—or a shower.

"It worked well, thank you. I appreciate you having your brother drop it off."

"I would have done it myself, but the girls pulled me away."

"I appreciate it."

An awkward silence fell between them, and Justine wanted to swat it away. She wanted to go back to their run, where they laughed and chatted about cakes and how she preferred to make her own fondant, even though it took more time.

"Well, I should get home and shower, then see the kids off to school." He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "Enjoy your … day." He turned to go, flashing her one more of those slightly crooked smiles that had her insides liquifying.

She stepped up onto her porch and waved before he turned fully around and jogged away.

She had to stop herself from falling backward against the front door like a swooning Disney Princess. She didn't swoon. Justine Biyu Brazeau did not swoon.

Unlocking her front door, she stepped inside, peeling out of her clothes as she made her way to the shower. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was in nothing but her sports bra and underwear. And a smile.

But as soon as she faced the mirror and realized she was smiling, she dropped it like a stone in a pond.

Nobody from Mr. O'Malley's family was smiling right now. And Mr. O'Malley sure as heck wasn't able to smile. So why did she deserve to?

Guilt replaced every other emotion inside her until she teamed over with it as she stepped under the warm spray of the water.

She never should have offered to make cakes for Bennett. And she should have told him to run on his own, that she didn't want company. As much as she enjoyed their interactions yesterday at the grocery store and honey farm, she tried to send him the hint that she wasn't interested.

Even though she was.

But she didn't deserve him.

They came from entirely different worlds and he didn't deserve someone as messed up and lost as her, coming in and adding just more chaos to his full and demanding life. She was lost, depressed, and—as Tad often liked to remind her—cold and emotionally stunted.

He didn't .

His kids didn't need that.

Maybe it was a sign that she couldn't have children. She wasn't meant to have children because she didn't have the emotions inside her to be a good parent.

Before she could stop them, the tears began to fall, mixing with the warm water from the shower and circling the drain.

She wanted that life though.

A family. Children.

Even if the universe didn't think she should be a mother, her heart told her otherwise.

Her well of tears ran dry and the water from the shower turned cold by the time she turned off the water and wrapped a towel around her.

She felt better having that cry.

Her head was clearer, although she still had no idea what she was going to do with her life now that she was no longer a surgeon. She did know, however, that she would figure it out on the island. By the end of the summer, she would have a concrete plan for her future.

She just needed to stay away from the sexy single dad up the hill, because if her heart had its way, she'd stay here with Bennett baking cakes forever.