But that would mean admitting weakness to a woman I'm trying to impress while hiding behind a fake name.
King:
Not tonight. Tell me something good instead. What made you smile today?
Her response takes longer this time.
Ivy:
You did. Your messages make me feel like someone actually sees me.
The sweet words lodge between my ribs.
I read them several times, then place my device on the phone holder and drive to the training facility. If I go home now, I'll text Ivy things I can't take back. Things that will expose how far I’ve fallen into this lie.
The facility is nearly empty when I arrive. Just a few staff members finishing late shifts. I change in the locker room and head to the gym, needing the physical release of pushing my body until my mind finally shuts up.
The barbell bites my palms as I load another plate. Bench press, deadlifts. Anything that makes my muscles scream louder than my thoughts. Sweat soaks through my shirt, drips down my temples. The metallic clang of weight becomes a rhythm. Lift. Hold. Release.
I’m on my back pressing iron toward the ceiling when footsteps approach.
Light. Hesitant. Distinctly feminine.
I rack the bar and sit up, chest heaving.
Ivy stands in the gym doorway, looking frantic in fitted jeans and an oversized cardigan that slides off one shoulder. She's clutching her bag like it's the only thing keeping her grounded.
Her hair is down, not in its usual ponytail, and falling in dark waves around her face. It makes her look softer and more alluring.
Our eyes meet. My heart starts beating faster.
“Ivy, I didn't expect company.”
She stays in the doorway, poised for flight. Grabbing my water bottle, I take a long sip while watching her over the rim.
Her gaze drops to my throat as I swallow. It drops to my sweat-soaked shirt clinging to my chest before jerking back to my face.
I smile.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.” She stares at the ceiling, the equipment, anything but me. “I forgot my tablet in the research office. I need it for tomorrow's assessments, but the building is locked and I don't have after-hours access.”
The way she's looking everywhere except directly at me is adorable.
“And you thought you'd find it in the gym?”
A flush creeps up her neck. “No. I was looking for security or anyone who would help me get into the office.”
“Well, you found me. Lucky you. I have access.”
I stand, and she tracks the movement. Her eyes widen slightly when I move closer.
“I don't know about lucky.”
“No?” My voice drops to something quieter. Rougher. An intimate register I don’t even consciously choose. “I’m wounded, Doc. Here I am, offering to help, and you’re already doubting my intentions.”
Her eyebrows lift, unimpressed. “Says the man who readily displayed his naked body to a stranger.”
Fair. Completely fair.
