Running Back to You (The Running Series, #1) by Suzanne Sweeney Page B

convince her to buy a bath bomb.  Then Emmy
insists on one final stop: Victoria’s Secret. 
    “I need to get some fishnet stockings for roller derby, maybe a new thong
and a push-up bra.  I need all the help I can get.  I’m not as lucky as you in
the boob department.”  She grabs her boobs and pushes them together, trying to
give herself cleavage.  We both burst out laughing.  She has no filter
sometimes.
    “What are you going to get?”  Emmy wants to know.
    I see a cute pair of sweatpants with the word PINK written down one leg. 
I hold them up for inspection.  “These are cute, don’t you think?”
    “No, I don’t.”  She takes them and puts them back on the rack.  No
discussion.  “You need something that will make you feel pretty.  These will
make you feel lazy.” 
    She grabs me by the wrist and drags me over to the undergarments.  I’ve bought
thongs before, and frankly, I don’t see the allure.  It’s like having a string
up your butt all day.  Emmy picks up a pair of lacey hip-hugger panties that
are actually quite pretty.  I could see how wearing these would make a girl
feel sexy without the discomfort of a thong.  I pick out a few and we head to
the check out.
    After a few more stops, we’re on our way home.  I’m glad Emmy called.  My
mind is clear.  Although I haven’t made up my mind about Evan, I decide to keep
an open mind.  Life can be messy, confusing, and imperfect, and it’s rarely
without conflict.  It’s how we handle the conflict that determines the
direction our life takes.  I’m going to trust myself and to accept the path
that life leads me down.

    I am thankful for the large crowd filling the bar tonight.  The in-house
DJ is playing more great music.  It’s Emmy’s night off, so Derek and I are
manning the bar alone.  We are so busy that I barely have time to think about
Evan.  For some reason I can’t explain, I just know he isn’t going to just show
up here out of the blue. 
    I slide a bottle of Bud to one of my customers when Derek points over to
the other side of the bar.  “That guy’s been asking about you, Jette.  What
should I tell him?”  I search the bar and spot a well-dressed young man around
my age talking to a group of guys. 
    “I dunno.  Tell him whatever you want.  Not interested.”  I return to the
crowd of customers lining my bar waiting for their drinks.  The male customers
are easy to handle, most want a beer or a shooter.  The women, on the other
hand, usually want a mixed drink.  Personally, I’ll take an ice-cold beer any
night of the week.
    With the crowd growing, the head bartender joins us, Marcus.  His looks
are intimidating to anyone who doesn’t know him.  He has the body and presence
of a lacrosse player, someone you just don’t mess with.  But the moment you
look into his eyes, almond shaped with the most captivating shade of amber, you
sense he’s more of a teddy bear. 
    Marcus knows his way around a bar and with his help, the crowd becomes
more manageable.  The guys obviously know each other well and are exchanging
jokes and insults all night long.  Soon enough, I join in on the banter and
find myself really having fun.
    “Tell you what, Jette,” Marcus shouts.  “I catch this cocktail behind my
back and you go out to dinner with me.”  The crowd’s watching the spectacle and
they’re really enjoying the show.
    “No way!”  Marcus has great reflexes and he knows it.  I wave him off and
continue to work the bar.  Marcus, being the expert showman that he is, feigns
a broken heart and goes back to flirting with the ladies.
    Derek whisks me up in his arms, spins me around, and dips me so low, I
can practically touch the ground.  “Keep your filthy paws off her, Marcus.  She’s
all mine!”  Derek kisses my hand and I fan myself with my free hand.
    “You know I only have eyes for you, Derek!” and I bat my eyelashes in my
best Scarlet O’Hara southern belle