Eva's Deadline

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“I’ve always loved this beach,” she admitted.

He propped his hands on his hips. “So, not everything about Willow Beach is a bummer.”

“No, not everything.”

Conversation died, yet neither made a move to resume running. Eva retied her scarf, wondering what kept her rooted to the spot.

Finally, she said, “Well, see you tomorrow.” She took a step forward.

“Eva—”

She stopped and turned. “Yes?” Oh, man, she sounded so...eager. Where had that come from?

“How about I join you for the rest of your run and then we grab a cup of coffee or something? The Beach Café on Seaview Avenue has outdoor tables. It’s a nice evening....”

Spend more time with Mark, when she’d told herself moments ago she didn’t even want to stop her jog to speak to him? Still, the prospect of returning to her drab apartment once her run was over held little appeal. Why not accept his invitation?

She tilted her head and adopted a teasing tone. “I don’t know.... Think you can keep up with me?”

He lifted his chin. “I’m not worried. Are you?”

“Not in the least. You’re on.”

“Okay. The café’s in the direction you’re headed.” He pointed down the beach. “My car’s at that end, too, and when we’re finished, I’ll give you a lift home.”

She wasn’t sure about the lift-home part, but she’d worry about that when the time came. She nodded, and they started off. Despite her bragging, Mark’s stride challenged her, but she kept up well enough to earn an admiring glance or two.

After a while, he slowed and pointed toward a pile of driftwood above the tide line. “How about taking a break?”

“Tired already?” she teased.

“Nope. Just thought watching the sun set would be nice.”

She glanced toward the horizon, where the sun blazed a brilliant trail of orange and yellow as it slid toward the sea. “Okay. Looks like it’s going to be a good show.”

She jogged with him to the driftwood. After taking a few minutes to stretch and cool down, they sat side by side on one of the logs. The lowering sun spread its glow through drifting clouds and along the horizon while the outline of a freighter appeared and disappeared with the undulation of the waves.

Mark leaned back and propped his elbows on the log behind them. “How far do you usually run?”

“A couple miles. At home, there’s an interurban trail I use or, if it’s raining, I run a track at the health club.”

“So that’s how you keep in such good shape.”

She laughed. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” She slid a sideways glance down the muscles of his outstretched legs all the way to the heels of his black-and-white running shoes. Nice. “Is running your main exercise?” she asked.

He picked up a stick of driftwood and idly poked the sand. “That and hiking. Ever do any?”