It’s Complicated (Her Billionaires #5)(98)
Author: Julia Kent

Of course they did.

“Hey there!” Darla shouted, waving wildly at Alex as Josie shrank. A hand went up and waved backwards, as Alex had already passed.

“Stop it!” she hissed at Darla.

“Why? You know him?”

Joe saved her from answering that question, taking a seat between her and Darla. Dressed in loose basketball shorts, a shiny green color with white piping, the edge of his boxer briefs peeked out over the waistband, right under his navel. As he slouched, the tanned skin of his belly didn’t roll or pucker. It clung to the little sculpted peaks of muscle in his six pack.

Make that eight pack.

She forced herself to break her gaze, knowing she’d look like a fool if caught staring at Joe. Turning her head, she saw Alex’s form turn the corner to the left and pass out of sight, his powerful legs propelling him away from her.

This was killing her.

Something had to give.

Who was that on Josie’s porch? he wondered. The blonde was tall and built like a muscular swimmer, with overgrown, sun-bleached hair and the cocky confidence of a guy in his early twenties. Three or four times a week he ran on this path, knocking off four miles easily, hoping he might catch a glimpse of Josie. This was the first time it had actually happened, though, her little face peeking out from the curtains. Dotty or Crackhead had joined her—probably Dotty. Knowing their names made him grin.

And then a young blonde woman, curvy and loud, her hair long and wild, her face animated. She touched the guy possessively. Hers.

Holding his breath and running were mutually exclusive, the air coming out in a great whoosh of relief. Whew. The guy wasn’t with Josie. He didn’t think he could handle that. Pushing his form as he ran past, he pumped his arms, legs eating the earth, running far faster than his six-to-seven-minute-mile pace. Not that he was competing with the blonde.

Of course not.

His heart raced and his calves began to ache as he made his way right past them, but he wouldn’t break his new pace until he was out of sight. Whatever was going on, he wouldn’t let himself look weak.

The blonde woman shouted something at him and he waved absentmindedly, then, mercifully, he hit the left turn, giving him a chance to slow way down and catch his breath. Fucking ego. Why did he care what some strange guy thought?

He didn’t.

He cared what Josie thought.

Rounding the next corner, he knew that the bushes and playground would hide him from them until he came back up this loop. This was his third loop, which meant pushing harder than he’d expected, as each loop was two miles. Six miles wasn’t that hard.

How about eight?

Eight would give him one more go-around to see what, exactly, was going on. Lungs screaming in protest, hamstrings so tight he could string a guitar with them, he continued.

Because now, he saw, there was another guy.

Sitting right next to Josie.

“You’re staring at his scar, aren’t you?” Darla asked Josie, who was still trying to figure out where it was safe to look.

“Uh…what?” Josie felt dazed by Joe’s presence. He looked like something out of Greek mythology, sipping from a black and gold mug that said Lipovac HVAC on it.

“Joe’s scar.”

“His what?” And then she saw it, the thinnest of scars on his chest, but deep and long.

“Can you guess what that’s from? Josie’s a nurse,” Darla explained to Joe, who nodded.

“Open-heart surgery? Infant?”

Darla’s eye widened. “Good.”

“Yeah,” Joe said, nervous. He seemed uptight, suddenly, as if he didn’t enjoy being the center of attention. Suddenly sympathetic, she imagined he was uncomfortable precisely because he was so gorgeous. Being the center of attention must be his default. Who wants to be under the microscope like that?

“Touch it!” Darla chirped.

“Touch it?” Josie wanted to touch Alex. Not this very … nice … young boyfriend. One of Darla’s boyfriends. Darla had two and Josie had none. “

It feels so neat,” Darla said, demonstrating by running her index and middle fingers down the long, bumpy line. “Can you imagine? He was just a bitty baby when it was done. Three months.”

Maybe Josie did want to touch. Just a little. She reached out tentatively, her approach slow and her fingers slightly curled, like she was approaching a friendly-seeming, but unfamiliar, dog.

“Hey, here comes that runner again. Damn, he’s fast,” Trevor added, staring down the street. They all turned to watch Alex, whose body was slick with sweat, hair soaked, face intense and determined. His calves tightened and his tendons stood out, his body in perfect form as he ran, nearly parallel to them now. Flooded with desire and an overwhelming urge to fling herself across the street and into his arms, Josie sighed as her eyes took him in, her gaze sliding from his glutes to his sweaty chest to his face, how his calves tightened and made tendons stand out, the way his body stayed in perfect form as he ran, now nearly parallel to them. Her breath caught and she put an arm out to steady herself; her fingers made contact with Joe’s forgotten scar.

Her eyes locked with Alex’s. The look lingered, his intensity riveted on her by an order of magnitude so high she couldn’t imagine that mathematicians and physicists had discovered it. In Alex’s eyes she saw pain, confusion, frustration, apology—and her future.

And then he slammed face-first into a No Parking sign.

Chapter Thirteen

She. Was. Touching. Him.

That guy. The one next to her in the green shorts, lounging like some model from an Abercrombie ad. The kind of guy Alex had played basketball with in high school. The too-perfect rich kid who had everything spread out before him on a platter—including girls—and who walked through life as if it were water, parents treating him like the New Fucking Messiah.

That guy.

Josie’s fingers were on him. Caressing his chest. Intimate and casual, like a lover. Her hands were supposed to touch Alex. Not that guy. Never that guy.

Never.

White rage raced through his veins as he caught her eyes, the exchange of emotion like a supernova pulse of energy. Could she feel it, too? Her face said so many things he wanted to hear. Hello. I miss you. Can we talk? It’s good to see you. I’m sorry.

No, Josie. I’m sorry.

I’m the one who f**ked up.

And then—hope. Her face broadened with the first hint of a smile, hand pulling back from the flesh bag who didn’t deserve her, and Alex felt grounded again. Centered. Like he’d been whiplashed emotionally back into a core of everything, pulling together the disparate pieces of himself that had slowly peeled away these past weeks.