Unsuitable(22)

Why didn’t I learn CPR?

And why the hell did he just jump?

My mind is going a million miles a minute as I sprint toward him, my bag banging against my side.

And I watch in fascinated horror as Kas hits the grass, landing on his feet in an almost catlike way. The motion takes him down to a forward roll, and he’s back up on his feet in seconds.

What the…bloody fuck?

And I’m still running.

Kas turns his head, seeing me, and his stare brings my feet skidding to a stop.

There’s about thirty feet between us.

He watches me for a long moment, no hint of emotion on his face.

Then, the fucker grins.

He actually grins. And then he takes off running across the paddocks, heading for the forest at the back of the estate.

Me? I’m shaking like a leaf, my heart going ten to the dozen.

What the hell was that?

Trying to catch my breath, I put my hands on my hips and look up at the balcony. It’s about a twenty-foot drop, and he just jumped it, like it was nothing.

I’m just…I can’t believe he did that.

I need a coffee.

Well, a stiff drink would probably be nice, but as I can’t have that, I’ll go for a hit of caffeine.

Still feeling a little wobbly, I head around the house and let myself in the open front door. I hang my bag and coat up in the coat closet and make my way to the kitchen.

I see an envelope on the counter with my name on it. Picking it up, I open it and see money and my payslip inside.

It’s my wages. Not a full week, as I’ve only worked four days after starting on Tuesday, but it’s my first pay.

Weirdly, I get a little lump in my throat.

My boss might be an arse, but I have a paying job. Later on, I’ll be seeing Anne, and I will be one step closer to getting Jesse back.

Smiling, I fold the envelope up and put it in the pocket of my dress.

I work the fancy coffee machine they have and start brewing coffee, figuring Kas might want some when he gets back.

Because I sure as hell need some after that.

I pour myself a coffee and set about filling the dishwasher with Kas’s dinner plate and pans from last night. I set the dishwasher going and start cleaning down the stove, which he made a mess of, drinking my coffee while I work.

I’ve finished my coffee, and I’m just rinsing out my cup, thinking I’ll tackle Kas’s office while he’s still out. Then, the back door opens, and the man appears, like I conjured him up.

His hair is uncharacteristically ruffled up. A sheen of sweat is covering his skin, his damp T-shirt clinging to his body. The muscles on his arms are…wow, and his legs…sweet Jesus, they’re really toned.

Honestly, he’s never looked hotter.

I have this sudden image of going over to him. Getting down on my knees. Kissing my way up those legs, then pulling his running shorts down, and—

“Coffee?” I squeak out, quickly turning away, so he can’t see that I’m blushing.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t even like this guy.

He’s mean, and he jumps off his balcony, nearly giving his employee a heart attack.

“Coffee would be good. Thanks.”

I grab a cup from the cupboard and pour him out a coffee.

“Milk?” I ask.

“No. Just black.”

I hand the cup over to him and step back, leaning against the counter.

“I forgot you were coming in early today.” His voice is low.

Is that why you did your crazy jump? Because you thought you were alone?

Then, I tense up, hoping he’s not going to change his mind about me leaving early.

I meet his steady gaze. “I hope it’s not a problem?”

“It’s not a problem.” He looks away from me to the door. “I’m going to take a shower.” He walks away, taking his coffee with him.

And I just can’t help myself. “What was that before? You jumping off the balcony?”

There, I said it.

I had to, or it would have bugged me all day.

He stops. I can see the clear line of tension across his shoulders.

He stands there for so long that I think he isn’t going to say anything.

“Parkour,” he says without turning around.

Parkour?

Then, he walks away without another word.

The moment he’s out of sight, I get my phone out of my pocket, bring up Google, type in parkour, and hit Search.





Eleven


Turns out that parkour—or freerunning, as it’s also called—is the art of moving rapidly through an area, usually an urban area. The traceur, which is the correct term for a person who practices parkour, moves around or over obstacles by running, jumping, and climbing them.

I got all that off the Internet.

After I finished reading up on it, I was feeling kind of fascinated. I saw there was a whole bunch of videos online. But I didn’t want Kas to catch me on my phone, so I had to wait until I left work.