Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

and as he walked toward the door, Cat pranced ahead. As soon as they were upstairs she began to nag him for dinner. While she talked and wound herself around his legs, he began stripping off his wet clothes. She skittered away when he dropped his shirt, avoiding it as it landed on the floor. She turned, stared at him, and mrowed loudly, as if to say, “Hey, watch what you’re doing―and by the way, where’s my food?”
    “Okay, okay. I get the message. You want supper,” he said to her. She paused in her tirade, looked at him, and said in a much smaller, more, coy voice, “Rowh.”
    “As soon as I take my shower, I’ll feed you.”
    Cat gave him one more look, turned, and walked away mrowing to herself, obviously put out that he wasn’t a bit more responsive to her demands.
    “Pissy bitch,” he said under his breath.
    Cat stopped, gave him a look that said, “I heard that,” and offered one more, loud mrow before disappearing around the corner. Once again, she had the last word.
    After his shower, Jack finally fed Cat. Then he called Dave to ask if he had seen the girls.
    “They were here, but they left quite a while ago. I don’t think they’ll be back anytime soon.”
    “Let me guess. Max has got Patti all sucked into her quilt project and they are out looking at material.”
    “That’s about it. I think you created a monster with this idea of going to that Quilt House.”
    “You might be right, but at least we’ll be able to get in some good trail running while they do their thing.”
    “True enough.”
    There wasn’t much else to say so the conversation ended. Jack got a beer from the fridge, returned to the couch, sat down, and immediately had a very happy, satisfied cat in his lap. Max had left the book on the couch so he picked it up and began reading.
    He didn’t hear the door open or Max coming up the stairs. He had enjoyed the first few pages, but the combination of the ten-mile run and Cat’s mojo had put him sound asleep. It wasn’t until he felt Max’s warm breath on his neck, followed by a soft kiss, that he opened his eyes.
    “Hey, sleepy.”
    “Max. I didn’t hear you come in. What time is it?”
    “Patti and I had a great time shopping.” She didn’t answer his question, so he knew that it was late.”
    “Did you eat?” he asked as he struggled to sit up. Cat, obviously put out that she had to move, jumped off his lap and retreated to find a quieter place.
    “We didn’t. How ’bout we go get Chinese?”
    There was something in her voice that triggered a very private memory involving Mai Tais and Chinese food. He grinned. “Sounds like a great idea. The Wok?”
    * * *
    “Do you have any idea how special you are to me?” Max whispered in his ear. She was as light as a feather and all he felt was her warmth and the softness of her skin as she lay on top of him
    “No, how? Tell me,” he whispered back.
    She moved ever so slightly, pressing closer, and breathed in his ear, “No. How about I show you?”
    Neither said another word as their bodies did all the talking. Then they fell deeply asleep in each other’s arms.

CHAPTER 26
    “HEY POLLY, I’M GOING OUT for a run,” Malcom shouted. He didn’t wait for a response—wasn’t even sure she was still indoors— because at breakfast he had already mentioned that this was his plan for the afternoon.
    The trails he had gradually cut in over the property’s sixty-five acres—just over one square mile—zigged, zagged, and looped around throughout the area, so it was possible to run many miles before starting to repeat sections. At key spots he had also erected signposts pointing back to the Inn, so it was pretty hard to get truly lost, although on several occasions guests found that their hike took longer than they had planned.
    Today his run was more about time spent than miles run. He intended to run for at least three hours, and as he went out the door, he took with him a small red backpack that contained several bottles of water, sports drink, and some packets of energy gel. He would leave the backpack at the most crossed intersection in the maze of trails so he could easily get a drink or snack during his run.
    As he trotted across the backyard and adjoining field to where the trails began, he smiled in anticipation of a good run. The mid-September heat wave had ended earlier in the week. Now it was about sixty-five degrees and the day would only get cooler, perfect for running. Gone was any hint of