He was tall. Lean. Strong. Muscular, but not in a steroidal way. He had an easy smile and eyes the color of the grass after a good rain. He was—here.
“Well, speak of the handsome devil,” Estelle said, pointing her bacon in the direction of the door.
My little nerd heart beat out an approving tempo.
He strolled inside in shorts and a sweaty t-shirt. I magnanimously decided not to take offense to the fact that my brunch companions had complained to high heaven about me showing up for our meal in my running clothes and my aches and pains that I tried to cover. They obviously didn’t have the same qualms about post-workout Jonah.
Every woman in the restaurant held her breath as he used the hem of his shirt to mop at his brow. That flash of abs had me bobbling my coffee cup against the saucer. The resounding clash tore eyes off Jonah’s very nice eight-pack and delivered them to my flushed face.
He dropped his shirt and looked at me. The friendly smile faded to stone. Strong jaw, subtle hollows under the Bodine cheekbones. Those eyes were cool, annoyed. My table mates took notice.
“Brrrr. Is it just me, or did it get real cold in here?” Mrs. Varney said in what she thought was a whisper.
I met Jonah’s blank stare with a bright smile. It said a lot for the man that he could dislike me intensely but still not bring himself to be rude.
Myrt waved him over, and I saw him hesitate for a moment. His negative feelings toward me seemed to be strong enough to make him consider avoiding the town elders. Interesting. The analytical part of my brain wanted to test which situations were more or less distasteful than a civil conversation with me. I scratched out a quick note in the margin of my notebook to consider it later.
He ambled over to the far end of the table. “Ladies. Jefferson,” he said with a nod, pointedly avoiding further eye contact with me.
“We were talking, and we think it’s time you find some gym space,” Louisa announced.
The rest of the ladies nodded their heads emphatically.
“That seems to be the sentiment of the day,” Jonah said cryptically.
“I know not a one of us looks a day over fifty,” Gert said, patting her white hair. “But we shouldn’t be tripping over tree roots and free-range chickens to get to our Happy Hour workout.”
Happy Hour was the name residents over the age of sixty voted to call Jonah’s senior fitness class.
“Mona Lisa McNugget Number Five sure is more adventurous than Number Four,” Jefferson commented.
“Now, you wouldn’t just be trying to get me to settle down, Gram-Gram. Would you?” Jonah asked with a wink. Gosh, his smile was nice. No wonder the ladies loved him. Heck, I liked him, and he wasn’t even nice to me.
Gert, Cassidy and June’s grandmother, feigned innocence and pathologically lied her cute little butt off. “I have no clue what y’all are talking about. I’m looking out for your welfare. Why, imagine if Estelle here took a header over a chicken in the park and broke a hip.”
Everyone at the table, except for me, knocked on wood.
“What about the high school gym?” Jonah prodded. He was a personal trainer, and I doubted there was a single lady within town limits who wouldn’t be interested in him personally training her. I’d taken one or two of his boot camps before he became woefully misinformed and decided to dislike me. It was a shame. He was an excellent teacher, and I was in need of some athletic guidance.
“We just think you would do a better business, especially with the summertimers, if you had a dedicated gym space,” Mrs. Varney insisted.
“I’ll think about it,” he promised, smiling at the table. His gaze skipped over me.
I wondered if he would think about it. The man had come to town to get to know siblings he had never met only to find out that his biological father was the primary suspect in a years-old missing person case. Growing up without a father and then discovering the man might be a criminal? Unless he cemented his bonds with the rest of the Bodines, Jonah wouldn’t have a reason to stay in Bootleg. No reason to own real estate.
“You do that, Jonah,” Myrt insisted. She batted her lashes at him, and her glass eye glinted under the table’s chandelier.