Move the Sun (Signal Bend Series) by Susan Fanetti Page A

but it could hurt, and that sucked.
    Her steak was done. She made herself a plate and took it into the living room. The furniture there—or anywhere in the house, really—wasn’t what Lilli would call “comfortable,” but it was serviceable. She sat on the brown plaid couch and ate her dinner while she read.
    Sometime after midnight, she headed to bed. She fell asleep thinking of Isaac, her hands between her thighs.
    ~oOo~
    She woke up with a start in the morning, but at least she was still in bed. With the new linens, it was positively fluffy, and she lay for a few minutes and allowed herself the luxury of a slow waking. The mornings out here were surprisingly noisy. Lots of animal chatter. She checked her phone: She’d made it to half past six. Pretty good. And she had provisions, so she could have coffee.
    First, though, a run. She went to the bathroom, then dressed to run—in her usual running clothes. If they were scandalous for the pious country folk of Signal Bend, well, they’d just have to deal.
    She was going to have to figure out some kind of solution for her other training, though. There was no gym anywhere nearby. She guessed farmers worked their core by actually working, but these days her work only exercised her brain. For the most part.
    She ran about half the route she’d run the day before, which she’d estimated to be about 16 miles, give or take. She was fit, and an experienced long-distance runner, but 16 miles was a lot two days in a row. She saw many of the same people, and got many of the same looks—some of them perhaps even more interested than they had been yesterday. Her breakfast with Isaac had made the rounds. This time, when she waved, several of them waved back. A little cachet came with Isaac, not surprisingly.
    She started the coffee when she got back and jumped in for a quick shower while it brewed. Considering the decidedly rustic appointments of the house, the shower in this bath was halfway decent. A good size, with a good shower head. The water pressure wasn’t wonderful, and it took forever to get hot, but all in all, it more than got the job done.
    She dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, then blow-dried her hair. She left it loose, for now. It would bug the crap out of her soon enough, so she pulled an elastic band over her wrist. A ponytail was her daily style. She wasn’t much for spending a lot of time preening.
    When she went back out to the kitchen, she stopped in the middle of the living room, staring out the sliding glass door. Isaac was leaning against the railing, looking in at her—assuming he could see that far into the room when he was standing in broad daylight. Jesus Christ. She had herself a stalker. An extremely hot, interesting stalker with a sexy, smoky voice, but a stalker nonetheless.
    For a moment, she just took him in. He definitely had a look: same boots, jeans, dark button-up shirt, kutte, jewelry, sunglasses, hair in a braid. He was leaning against the railing, his arms crossed over his chest. Something in his stance indicated that he was irritated, as though she should have been expecting him. She went to the door and unlocked it.
    When she slid it open, he pushed off the railing. “You lock the doors when you’re home ?”
    She put her hands on her hips, still standing in the door, blocking the entry he obviously wanted. “Asking that question tells me that you know they were locked. Which means you tried them. Which means you would have come into my house while I was in the shower. So, yeah. I’ll lock my doors, thanks.”
    He hooked his finger into the waistband of her jeans. “What do you think I would have done? You in the shower, all naked and wet. You sure you wouldn’t have wanted me to find you in there?”
    Her body responded to everything about him: his scent, which was all leather and man; his look; his touch on her bare skin; the deep rumble of his voice. She was sure her reflexes would have had a shower encounter such as he