He would.
For now.
But first... “Just in case you think you can dodge me by jogging in the opposite direction tomorrow—”
The look on her face assured him he’d nailed it.
“—you should know that it’s going to be a nice day, which means Mr. Westbrook will be cutting his grass early. In his Speedo.” He watched her face. “He’s sixty-eight and let’s say he’s on the stocky side.” Very stocky.
Thick lashes lifted. “You’re joking.”
At least she wasn’t so jumpy now. “He claims it keeps his boys healthy, like maybe they need the fresh air, too.”
“His boys?”
“Balls.”
“Oh.” She snickered.
“A few neighbors have complained, but I figured at least he’s wearing the Speedo, right? Even though he somewhat overflows them.” Nathan touched a hand to his own trim middle. “He’s a beer drinker you know, and has the gut to go with it.”
“If I jog your way, will you follow me again?”
Once more direct and to the point. Nathan looked up at a bird on the lamppost near them. “Possibly.” Definitely. He met her worried gaze. “Has this little chat been so painful?”
Brooklin shook her head. “I guess as long as it’s only chatting, it’s okay.”
Headway. He crossed his heart. “Only chatting.” Until she relaxed enough for him to push for more.
* * *
Joni Jeffers was every bit as annoying on Monday as she’d been on Friday. Without an ounce of encouragement from Hogan, she’d set her mind to furthering their association beyond the professional.
She hovered around his desk until Hogan knew he wouldn’t get anything done.
Her continued interruptions for intimate, too-close chitchat, along with his preoccupation worrying over Violet, added to a lack of sleep over the weekend, and he could barely see the numbers in the columns.
He turned his chair to face Joni, ignored the few coworkers around them and said, “I was thinking of working from home the rest of the week.”
The way she smiled, you’d think he’d invited her over. “If that’s what you need to do...”
“I’ll get more done there.” And it’d give him time to check on Violet. “I’m missing a few returns, but I’ve already emailed the client. I’ve got the basics down on the restructuring and modernizing of the system used. Everything is online now and I should be able to present it by the end of the week, or next Monday.”
“Did you see any savings?”
“Plenty, actually.”
“Perfect.” She smiled down at him while trailing a finger up and down her cleavage.
Thank God her back was to everyone else.
“You know, Hogan, I might stop by middle of the week just so you can show me everything.”
“I can come back in Friday,” he said quickly. Then, to shore that up—because he seriously didn’t want a surprise visitor—he said, “My son has friends over a lot.” A lot, meaning occasionally. “You know how loud boys can be.”
Her gaze became assessing. “How old did you say he is?”
“Almost eighteen.”
“Closer to a man than a boy now.”
“No.” Hogan didn’t trust Joni, not at all, and he wanted those thoughts out of her head real quick. “He’s still in high school.”
“You weren’t much older than him when you became his father.”
“True. Colt is a hell of a lot smarter than I was.” As he spoke, Hogan gathered up his papers, saved his files and stood.
Joni didn’t back up.
Jesus, half the office—all of five other employees—were watching this farce play out. “I’ll check my email first thing every morning. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
“I’ll walk you out,” she said.
Short of telling her to go to hell, what could he do? Is this how women felt when being sexually harassed? No, for a woman it’d probably be worse. After all, Joni didn’t physically threaten him.
She just annoyed the hell out of him.
* * *
Violet wanted to crumble. She wanted to sink down to the floor and put her head on her knees and give in to the need to sleep. Thanks to the meds, her chest didn’t feel quite so tight and the coughing was now at a minimum, but the awful exhaustion remained.
Where had her usual energy gone? After being a complete slug all weekend, having Hogan wait on her—even hold her while she slept—she should have had a little more pep.
To everyone she saw, she explained that she wasn’t contagious, but still, she tried to avoid direct contact with the food and the customers, just so no one would worry.
In a diner, there was always something else to do, and she stayed busy doing it. Too busy.
Once the lunch-hour traffic died down, she decided she could finally head to her office and tackle some paperwork. She was just leaving the seating area when Hogan stepped in.
Doing a double take, she watched him talk with Colt for a bit.
Damn, he was a good dad. Very hands-on and available. So what if he’d had a temporary lapse while chasing tail? Most men she knew made it a lifelong profession, not a temporary anything. And even then, he’d been with Colt a lot.
Just not in the evenings, when he’d spent time in other women’s beds.
She’d bet her last biscuit that he hadn’t slept chastely with any of them, not the way he had with her.
After his private talk with Colt, Hogan looked around, searching, she knew, for her.
Violet didn’t move from her position near the farthest corner booth where she’d been collecting dirty dishes. She’d planned to deposit them to the washer on her way to her office.
Hogan smiled and came her way. When he reached her, he took the heavy tray from her hands.
“How are you feeling?”
“What are you doing here?”
His gaze searched hers. Then he started away, saying, “You first.”
“I’m fine.” Violet hustled along behind him. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“Liar,” he said, almost like a compliment. They were both quiet as he deposited the tray in the commercial sinks where two high school boys worked with awesome efficiency.
It wasn’t until they reached her office that Hogan said, “I’ll be working from home the rest of the week.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here.” She headed to the chair behind her desk and sank down to sit.
For too long, Hogan studied her.
She fought off a sigh, a frown and a cough. “What?”
“I wanted to check on you.” As if he had every right—and maybe he did after the weekend—he put the back of his hand to her head. “You don’t feel feverish.”
“Not even a little.”
“But you’re still pooped.”
Given she had both elbows propped on her desk to keep her head from hitting the surface, lying would be pointless.