I hike my bag up higher on my shoulder and hook my thumb toward the other side of the gym. “I should work out.”
Wes’s eyes trail me as I beeline for the treadmills facing the opposite wall. My eyes wander to the mirror in front of me during my warm-up jog, to Wes settling back onto his weight bench. I crank the speed and my music and lose myself to a run for twenty gloriousminutes and three miles. My brain shuts off; the only sounds filling my head belong to my carefully selected playlist to keep me on pace.
I look up, and am met with Wes’s gaze in the mirror. He’s hanging from a pull-up bar twenty feet away with me directly in his line of sight. He’s pulled his hair into a freaking man bun. Gray sweatpants, shirtless, and a man bun. I am not that strong.
He’s doing this on purpose, the jerk.
I slam the stop button on the treadmill and walk until the belt stops moving.
When I spin to face him, he’s still staring at me, not having turned away after being caught. “You're not going to try to hide that you're looking at me?” I demand.
He pulls himself up to the bar, muscles shaking with strain. “Is that what you want me to do?” he asks.
“I don't care what you do.”
“Sure about that?” Wes lowers himself again. His arms look obscene, cut muscles on display as he controls his descent. Jesus, the discipline and strength that takes. “You're looking a bit hot under the collar, Isla.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I'm exercising. Of course I feel hot.”
Wes places his feet on the ground, letting go of the bar. “So that's what that flush is from? Exertion?”
“Yes.”
“Might want to work on your stamina.”
“My stamina is fine,” I snap, one hand landing on my hip. “Not that I need to prove it to you.”
Wes flashes that patented smirk, a new development in the years since we met. “Because my presence doesn't register for you.”
“Exactly.”
He gestures toward the treadmill beside mine. “Then, you won't mind if I join you?”
I hop down from the treadmill. “I’m done, so have at it.”
I glance over at the clock. Spencer should arrive in fifteen minutes. I can make it that long if I focus my attention on something other than his brother.
The sounds of the treadmill tempt me, but I keep my head down, stretching my leg muscles.
Maybe I need a night out to shut my brain off. A couple of guys from Wes’s hockey team invited me to join them for their weekly night out at a local bar. If this is going to be my home, I should make friends and settle in, expand my circle beyond the Davidson men.
Balancing my figure skating with a personal life is important, and something I’ve struggled with my entire career. But moving here is a new beginning, a chance to approach everything differently, and avoid the mistakes of my past.
Best of all, tonight will stop me from thinking about the man jogging on the other side of the room.
Chapter 15
Wes
HoursafterIslaandI verbally sparred in the gym, my body still buzzes.
She tilts my world on its axis, wreaking havoc on my emotions and making me question long-held decisions about my life. After my divorce, I chose to focus on my career and my family and not date. I never wanted to hand someone the power to decimate me again.
It’s never been a decision I’ve struggled with until Isla walked into my life, magnifying the loneliness that accompanies my choices.
I need a fucking drink.
“Davey!” My friend, Sam, shouts from the far side of the bar, which draws cheers from the rest of the guys huddled around him.The team has a standing happy hour each week at Crossroads, the only bar in our small town. One of our teammates, Victor, owns the place.
