Page 51 of The Backup Plan

“Torture?” I ask. “This coming from a man who wants me to okay him for full-contact play, but my gentle touch is torture? I’m not even touching you right now.”

“This second, no. But you’re looking at your Tablet of Tortures right there, undoubtedly trying to figure out how to inflict max pain after that comment I made.”

“Perhaps.” I set the tablet down and grab my goniometer so I can measure his range of motion.

“And yet you still didn’t answer,” he murmurs.

“No boyfriend. This is my year to focus on work. On this new job and the new move. I don’t want anything to distract from it,” I lie.

And that answer is final, because telling him the truth would invite questions I’m not ready to answer.

He hums. I can feel the weight of his stare on me, but I keep my gaze focused on my hands and my measurements. “Pretty sure I call bullshit on that.”

“You can call whatever you want on it.” I chuckle unconvincingly. “How about I just say I’ve sworn off men. Is that easier for you to believe?”

He toggles his head from side to side. “Yeah. Probably. So that means you’ve left some heartache behind.”

I arch a brow but don’t answer. “And what’s your excuse?” Where did that come from?

Let’s go with . . . it’s purely for conversation’s sake. Not because I want to know. Not because I care.

“Excuse?”

“Yeah. Aren’t star quarterbacks supposed to have women hanging off their every word?” I tease.

“Who says they’re not?” He grins.

“I live across the hall from you. Pretty sure I’d notice if you had a girlfriend or . . . you know, had women doing the walk of shame out of your place as we took off for our morning runs.”

“Fair enough,” he says, pausing until I meet his eyes. “And true.”

My smile sputters right along with my words. “Why not? I’m sure you don’t have any shortage of women offering.”

He shrugs and throws off my measurement, so I repeat it. “I don’t know. Never found the right one, I guess.” He pauses a beat. “Lots of fine-for-nows, but no one who made me want to settle. Which when you think of it, is the worst word to describe wanting to be with someone exclusively. Like settling most times means you accept your fate whether it’s good or bad—so I’ll use the word settle but I protest its meaning.”

I bark out a laugh. “I’ll make a note in my Tablet of Torture that Lucas Hales disagrees with the word settle.”

“You know I’m right,” he teases.

“You are,” I say, but then fall quiet as I work.

The words hang there but I don’t comment because isn’t that what everybody wants in their life? Someone to settle into life with? It’s what I thought I had with Jared until he decided his wife’s success should not surpass his own.

“You’re quiet,” he says.

“I’m working.”

“Didn’t mean to strike a nerve with that,” he says.

I shake my head and chuckle. “You didn’t. It wasn’t. Just . . . concentrating on your measurements.”

He nods very slowly, just once, and yet our eyes remain locked on each other as if there is more to be said here.

I clear my throat and move back to my tablet. When all else fails . . .

“Thank you for the morning runs. I appreciate it, but I’m pretty sure you’ve shown me enough safe routes that you don’t have to feel obligated to go with me anymore.” I stare at the cursor blinking on the screen. What did I need to document?

“Not an obligation. It’s nice to have a partner to run with. Accountability and all that.” I can see him shrug out of the corner of my eye.