Her CEO Stalker and Her Second Chance Mate Chapter 67

Carter

I was up before dawn and dressed for a run. Briar may have agreed to being something a little more than friends yesterday, but she would be cursing me out to no end by dawn. Rosie followed me as I took off down the trail to Briar’s house. Personally, I would enjoy her creative insults just a little too much.

When I got to her house, I knocked on the door. When I heard her swearing, I called out to her, but that didn’t stop her from cocking the shotgun and pointing it at me when she answered the door in a sports bra and yoga shorts. I grinned, she scowled, her hair was a mess, and her makeup was in disarray.

“What in the actual fuck are you doing here before the ass crack of dawn, Carter? You scared the living shit out of me.”

“Get your sneaks; training starts now.”

“You can’t be serious. Can’t I at least get a cup of coffee?”

“No, I have a fresh pot brewed at my place for when we get there.” She looked behind me, then at me, still half asleep.

“You fucking walked here didn’t you?”

“I ran, nothing like a good morning jog to get your heart pumping and the day started,” I said enthusiastically.

“You are serious then,” she was in shock.

“Come on, we both gotta be to work on time, let's not be late. I’ll drive you home after breakfast.”

She swore quite colorfully, disappearing into the house. I followed her in, and she slipped into the bathroom. Briar was not a morning person, I had learned. She only spoke curses and venom before her first cup of coffee. She came out with her hair tied up, and I handed her sneakers to. She snatched them away haughtily and sat to put them on. I didn’t give her enough time to get comfortable before I dragged her to her feet and grabbed the key from the dish on the table by the door. She didn’t have pockets, so I’d hold onto them for her.

I hadn’t taken Briar down the path to my place yet. I hoped, once she got used to running, she’d learn to appreciate the woods like I did. I kept my gait steady, and to her credit, though she was breathing all wrong, she was putting in a good effort. She paused and leaned against a tree, a stitch in her side. I jogged in place, waiting for her. She huffed and pushed through the pain and started up again. The total jog was a mile, made more difficult by the constant dips and inclines in the terrain. She slowed to a walk a few times before picking up and trudging along with me. When we made it to my place, she leaned against the porch railing, red-faced and panting. 

“I think I might hate you right now,” she groaned. “Why the hell do we have to do this first thing in the morning?”

“Like I said, nothing like a good morning jog to get the blood pumping. I made you wait for coffee so you didn’t puke on the way here. Now come on, time to hydrate,  then you can have your caffeine while I make breakfast. This way, I can also make sure you're getting enough calories, because you're going to need them.” She huffed, following me into the house.

I made her drink two large glasses of water before I let her have her cup of coffee. She did cuss me out, which just gained her a chuckle. When I set her breakfast in front of her, she looked at me, bewildered.

“I…I can’t eat all that.” It was sausage, fried potatoes, toast, and three eggs

“Your body is hungry even if your mind doesn’t want it, Briar. I know it’s a struggle for you, but we aren’t going to get anywhere till you get past it,” I said, sitting down next to her. I took the liberty of placing my hand on her thigh while I started eating.

“You're going to make us both late,” I reminded her, and she finally dug into her food. Briar hated being late, I had learned. It was inexcusable and I was going to use that to my advantage these next few weeks.

Now that you can run here without stopping and back, I’ll help you with your bike. No lessons till you can run the full two miles.” She narrowed her eyes at me, and then something clicked in her. She had a goal; if she wanted to ride, all she had to do was meet it. “If you do well with the weights and the hand bags, I’ll get you a proper bag to beat the living shit out of. You can put anyone’s face on it you like.” The corner of her mouth turned up. Oh, she was choosing violence, good. She was going to need it one way or another. If she didn’t need it for dealing with Creedon, she’d need it to hold her own here.