Every few seconds, my attention drifts back toward the stair machine.
She works hard. Every movement is deliberate. Every step is controlled.
The longer I watch, the more impressed I become.
Maybe that’s what this is. Not attraction, but respect.
Attraction is fleeting. It fades.
Hell, I find all kinds of women attractive—different women, different bar, different city every night.
Respect is something else entirely.
The realization unsettles me.
I walk over and grab the fifty-pound weights. Push myself harder, attempting to redirect my thoughts.
It doesn’t work.
Jovie remains front and center.
The sound of her shoes against the machine. The occasional sip from her water bottle. The determined expression she wears while climbing a mountain that exists only on the screen before her. The bead of sweat that travels down her throat and disappears between her breasts beneath her sports bra.
After about twenty minutes, she finishes, breathing heavily as she grabs a towel, pats the back of her neck and chest, then walks toward the free-weights section.
Toward me.
My pulse races as she chooses the bench beside mine. Then she starts lifting.
For several minutes, neither of us says anything, and like last night, the silence feels surprisingly easy.
Comfortable, not awkward.
We simply work. The only noise the occasional clink of weights filling the room.
I like sharing space with her more than I should.
Eventually, she sets her weights down and stretches her shoulders.
I glance over as she takes another drink from her bottle.
“You should use the sauna after workouts,” she says.
I freeze.
The image appears unbidden in my head before I can stop it.
Small, dark room. Close quarters. Just the two of us. Sweating. Her body wrapped only in a towel. Her skin glistening.
I grip the dumbbell harder.
“Axle? Did you hear me?”
I clear my throat. “Sauna?”
“Yeah. It’s great for post-workout muscle recovery. And it reduces inflammation. Plus, the heat lowers cortisol levels, helping you to relax after strenuous physical sessions.” Her tone remains completely professional.
Unlike my brain.
