Dead Running by Cami Checketts Page A

lifted her glass and took a tentative sip.
    Nana shook her head. “A bit more, sweetheart. We don’t want brittle bones.”
    Tasha took another quick gulp. I watched a glop of mashed potatoes slide from the bottom of the glass into her mouth. She gagged. I pressed my lips together, my body shaking from withheld laughter. Tasha set the glass down, smacking her coral lips, as if she enjoyed potato-enriched milk, and eyeing Nana to see if she’d passed.
    Nana nodded her approval. “Now that’s what I like. A woman who actually knows how to eat.” She glanced significantly at my plate covered with the mashed potatoes I’d been building sculptures out of and a hunk of untouched meatloaf. In my defense, I’d made short work of my peas and bread.
    “Nana, you know I hate meatloaf.”
    “You need protein for running,” Tasha said.
    “Yes, eat a few bites,” Nana commanded.
    It was my turn to scowl. I cut a tiny bite, shoved it in my mouth, and swallowed without chewing. A quick drink of milk and I could almost feel normal again.
    “I thought you loved mashed potatoes,” Tasha said, not content with forcing me to choke down meat loaf. “I thought all of this running was going to make it so you could eat anything you love.”
    “Hey, good point.” I scooped up a bite of potatoes and plopped them in my mouth. Whipped potatoes, loaded with butter. I thought I was too upset from this morning to enjoy food, but Nana’s potatoes proved me wrong. I closed my eyes to savor the taste. I opened them to see Nana beaming at me. That hadn’t happened in a while. I took another bite. “Do I look skinnier?” I asked Tasha.
    She leaned around the table and gazed at my thighs. “Most definitely. Looks like it’s time to go shopping.”
    I grinned. Eating Nana’s calorie bombs and skinny enough for new clothes? This running crap was definitely worth it.
    “You are and always will be too skinny,” Nana said, flinging her hand at me. “Why, in my day men wanted a woman with some shape.” Using her hands, she demonstrated the curves a woman should have. “You have no fat on you. No fat means no chest.”
    I glanced down. “I think we can blame the chest on mom’s genes.”
    Nana smiled. “Oh, I can agree with that. I’ve always been well-endowed.”
    “Has Damon called?” Tasha asked, saving me from commenting on my grandmother’s chest.
    I shifted in my seat. “Not yet. I’m sure he’s still trying to schedule the training runs.” After watching Tasha and I fall off our treadmills last week, he may never call.
    “I thought he might call for more than training runs.”
    I let myself eat one more bite of potatoes. “I’m not running this marathon to get the attention of a man, so it really doesn’t matter.”
    Tasha stood, lifting her plate from the table to the sink. “I’ve seen this Damon guy, remember? I’d run a marathon if it meant training with him.”
    I helped clear the dishes, mulling it over in my mind. Maybe I’d started training to impress Damon but he hadn’t called and I was still running. Jesse didn’t seem to care whether I did the marathon or not, but I had seen him out on the road a couple of times so maybe in the back of my mind there was that possibility of furthering a relationship with him.
    “So, if you aren’t doing this marathon for Damon?” Tasha’s booming voice cut into my thoughts.
    “I’m doing it to better myself,” I said. And to spite the two of you .
    Nana shoved meatloaf into a plastic container and turned to me with an arched brow. “Cassidy, are you feeling all right?”
    I gulped and bent to pull the garbage from underneath the sink. “Fine.” Was she talking about my bettering myself or had she noticed something else? I’d tried not to stew about Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole during dinner. I wished I could tell Nana, but I couldn’t worry her. I glanced up to see her still studying me.
    “Did something happen at work today?” Nana asked.
    “No. Works