Highness (The Lonely Heart Series) by Latrivia S. Nelson Page B

the question was what to do with it. 
    After a quick shower and a change into running clothes, he zipped into the kitchen to grab a shake.  Geoff was waiting at the table, fully dressed in his normal khakis and plaid button down.  Pushing a pot of coffee across the table, he sent a text and looked up at Michael.
    “You seem to be in a very chipper mood,” Geoff said, checking out his running clothes.  “Getting back into the swing of things?”
    “I’m going for a run,” Michael said, turning on the blender.  He leaned against the counter and crossed his long legs over each other.  “What time does the mail run?”
    “The mail?” Geoff frowned. “Are you expecting something?”
    “No,” Michael said, looking at his watch. “I’m going to pick up some.”
    Without explanation, Geoff knew what Michael’s intentions were. Moving the conversation right along, he pulled his coffee mug up to his mouth.  “Look behind you, I took the liberty of looking up some possible job openings for you.  I figured that the American saying could prove to be true for you, so I wanted to get in front of it.”
    “American saying?” Michael asked.
    “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.”  Geoff smirked.
    “Oh, but my mind is not idle,” Michael said, looking behind him and grabbing the paper.  “I assume this came from our friends down the street.”
    “You assumed right,” Geoff answered.  “Also, someone will be following you on your run. Please try to understand that you are still the Prince of England.”
    “Really?” Michael said, pouring the protein shake into a container as he read the list of jobs.  “There’s nothing sexy on here at all.”
    “There is nothing sexy in Hernando that won’t get you caught.”
    “It’s sort of exciting really. I feel like one of our specialists on a mission.”
    Geoff couldn’t agree. “I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.”  There was no lie in his voice, no inflection. 
    Michael huffed.  His friend simply didn’t know how to have fun.
    ***
    Michael had to admit there was something absolutely breathtaking about running the roads of Hernando.  So many trees, bushes, land, horses and cows.  He’d never been so immersed in the country land before.  With his headphones on, he maneuvered over the hills and down the rambling roads for several miles, all with his men trailing closely behind him in a Yukon Denali, passed every once in a while by someone who refused to go below the limit.  He rather missed his team of MI6 and their more personal attention.  If he had not been undercover, he would have insisted that they take a run with him, but obviously considering what he was trying to do; one would have noticed men running nearly in cadence together. 
    After a brisk five-miler, he headed back down his road covered in sweat, but determined to do one final thing before the day went on.  As he passed Hope’s house, he stopped abruptly and went over to the mailbox.
    His men slowed behind him.  “What’s he doing?” Benjamin, one of the men in his MI6 detail asked.
    “Looks like he’s checking the neighbor’s mail,” Bradley, the passenger in the Yukon said astounded.
    “Well, why would he be doing that?” he asked in his British accent.
    “Shall I step out and ask his highness?” Bradley said snidely.
    “It’s illegal to touch anyone else’s mailbox,” Benjamin reminded.
    Bradley simply shook his head. There was no reason to respond, it would only fall on deaf ears.
    Luckily for Michael, the postman had already run, thus enabling his plan to move forward.  Taking Hope’s mail in his hand, he turned and saluted his men, then ran up the gravel driveway to the door.
    “I think he fancies the neighbor,” Benjamin said, pulling off before they were noticed.
    “Well, we need to get some ears and eyes on that house if he plans on being there,” Bradley huffed, calling up to Geoff. “Be advised.  ETA 5 minutes.  We need to debrief on