“I’ll go to a gym when I’m ready.”

“I don’t enjoy staring at the wall while I work out. Just can’t do it. Drives me nuts.” He grimaced. “And I see gyms as germ receptacles.”

“Great. Thanks for that mental image,” she said as she took her first bite.

He smiled at her sarcasm. “Fresh air. Sunshine. You can’t get either of those in a gym. Plus, vitamin D. Most Americans are seriously deficient.”

“Maybe that’s true. But it’s safer in a gym.”

“Safer? How?”

Her eyebrows went up. “Do you know how many women have been attacked while jogging on some lonely trail?”

“Which is why you run with a buddy,” he said once he’d swallowed.

She cut another bite. “I guess you’ve never heard of the Zodiac Killer.”

“I’ve heard of him, but I can’t remember what he did.”

“Killed couples for no reason, right here in California.” She took another bite of her omelet. “And have I mentioned that he was never caught?”

Seth remembered the story. The Zodiac Killer had actually operated up north, near San Francisco, where he lived. But that was years and years ago. “There’s an exception to every rule. That’s not going to get you out of running,” he said jokingly.

“In case you didn’t hear me the first time, I can’t be seen outside,” she said. “I could be recognized.”

She had to face the public eventually. She had to pull herself out of the dark hole she’d fallen into before it got any more difficult. “That’s what hoodies are for.”

“I don’t have a hoodie.”

“Fortunately, I have one you can borrow.” He winked before indicating her plate. “So...are you going to tell me how you like the food?”

She seemed mildly surprised that he was interested enough to ask. He was a little surprised himself. In spite of how closed off he’d become over the past three years, he was intrigued by this woman and the situation she was in.

“It’s good,” she said. “Thank you.”

“What do you normally have for breakfast?”

“Lately? Doritos and Coke when I want to be healthy and Hostess Ding Dongs when I don’t.”

He stopped eating. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Even when he’d been in the depths of despair, he hadn’t eaten that badly.

“It’s a slow way to die, but it’ll do the trick eventually. I read a newspaper article not long ago about a man who died from eating too much black licorice, so anything’s possible.”

He gave her a pointed stare. “That’s not funny.”

“Stop it. I’m not suicidal. It was joke, okay? And trying to kill yourself with black licorice is sort of funny.”