Free The Art of Appreciation by Autumn Markus

running. It took longer to catch up than he expected; Pretty walked faster than he thought she would. She’d moved a few hundred yards farther down the beach before he caught up and murmured in her ear, “Hi there.”
    Pretty stopped dead and swung her fist sharply backward. Yelping, Matt was able to turn enough that she caught his quadriceps rather than his nuts, but it was close, and it was still enough, given the pain already his legs, to cause him to plop down on the sand.
    Her angry face as she turned was almost as funny as the situation, and Matt lay back, laughing. “Well, that didn’t work out the way I’d planned.”
    Crouching next to him, Pretty looked both irritated and apologetic. Her hand fluttered over the spot she’d thumped, clearly both desiring to soothe it and realizing that it would be inappropriate. “I’m sorry, Matt. But what the hell were you thinking?”
    “Not about being attacked, that’s for sure.” He leaned up on his elbow and used the opposite hand to slide up the leg of his shorts so he could examine his injury. Yep, already bruising. Thank God she’d missed her original mark, because that woman hit hard. He caught her eyes as she shifted them away from his leg. “Help me up, Wonder Woman?” He smiled. “I think my run is over.”
    Pretty got to her feet in one fluid motion. She extended a hand and pulled him up. “It’s your own stupid fault,” she said cheerfully. “How was I supposed to know you weren’t a masher?”
    Matt chuckled. “Masher? Who says that? Grandmas?”
    “I say it. I don’t need your permission. And I suppose I could be mistaken for a grandma, compared to some…” She set off at a brisk walk. Matt enjoyed the view, loose pants rolled down at the waist in deference to her wound and a stretchy tank that didn’t quite meet her waistband, leaving a strip of silky-looking flesh between top and bottom. His impulse to touch her came back in a rush. He was glad he’d had the sense the night before to sketch out the sculpture idea the graceful arc of her neck had given him.
    He caught up to her. “Nope, definitely not grandma material. Trust me. Compared to anyone.”
    Pretty’s eyes softened. “Thanks.” They walked a few more steps. “So, how was your evening? Exciting?” Her lips twisted into a smirk, and she glanced at Matt from the corner of her eye.
    “Drank too much and went home.” He sent a silent thanks to the sea god that he’d resisted Zoe’s offer to share his bed after she’d helped him stagger to his front door. One kiss was all they’d shared—surely Pretty couldn’t fault him for that. Matt looked over at her, a grin playing around his lips. “I should ask you the same thing. Working out the kinks? Was he a little too energetic?”
    The smile dropped from Pretty’s face. “That’s—” Her lips set in a firm line.
    “Fair?” Matt suggested, and she snorted. “Why is it that I’m a dirty old man when you think I’m sleeping with Zo—which, as a matter of fact, I am not—but your rec time with the boy toy is off limits for discussion?”
    “Jason is not my boy toy, and discussion of my ‘rec time’ is off limits no matter who you’re asking about.”
    Matt winced. All he wanted to do was to tease her a little, and now he’d made her mad. He tried to think of something to say, but Pretty beat him to it.
    She stopped and put her hand on his arm. “You’re right about one thing, though. It’s not fair for me to shit you about Biker Barbie when I was with Jason. I’m sorry.”
    “No problem.” Matt shrugged. “Guys my age get used to that.” They walked in silence for a while, and then Matt noticed that she was gently covering the scuff on her hip with one hand. “Hurting?”
    Pretty grimaced. “A little.” She stopped and pushed down the fabric that was brushing her road rash. “Does it look like it’s healing all right to you?”
    After a glance at her face to see if she was serious, Matt crouched in