“Yeah? I’m taking it slow.” He plucked up the next heaviest dumbbell and switched it to his bad arm. Flexing a few more moves, he nodded approvingly. “And I am listening to my body.”
Again, she plucked it from his grip and pulled the instructions off the shelf where she’d set it out, studying it this morning when she’d first come out for her own workout and realized how far he had to go before normal was even a glimmer on the horizon. “Bodyweight first.”
He faked a pout, the ratty beard and mussed hair laughable. “How about we alternate? You get to pick the workouts on odd days, I get even, but I promise to follow medical orders.”
“It’s a deal,” she said, turning and setting her hands on her hips. She stepped close and flicked a lock of his hair. “Since when do you do long hair?”
“Since my last undercover job.”
“Aren’t you going to tie it back? I plan on making you sweat.”
He blushed with that sheepish smile that she knew had won over her dad in a heartbeat. And it kinda worked on her, too. A lot. “I can’t lift my arm high enough to tie it back.”
“Ha,” she said, not giving him an inch. “I wondered. Which is why you haven’t shaved, either?”
“It hurts to keep my arm up for that long and I’m useless with my left. Nearly slit my throat trying,” he said, plucking the physical therapy instructions from her hands.
She grabbed an extra hair tie from her pocket. Moving in behind him, she said, “Okay. Read me your instructions so we can warm you up safely.”
He laughed until she grabbed his hair and tugged it up. “Ow,” he growled.
“That’s the idea. So it doesn’t come loose,” she said as she tied it off in a ponytail.
7
The cat is out of the bag
Blowjobsandpanties.Holyfucking shit. Cole was in way over his head. Trace touching him and talking about very intimate things with him… how in the hell did she think she was boring?
He rubbed a fluffy white gym towel over his face, his cheeks flaming long after his pulse had calmed down after the workout. Imagination running wild with ideas of Trace in black lace, he glanced toward her, then quickly away again, chugging his water to cool his system, fast. At least she’d been smart enough to back off when he’d been about to make a move.
Trace bit her lip as she circled toward the door. “Wow. Shit. I’m worried your red cheeks aren’t from the workout, but from the freight train of inappropriate ramblings I unloaded on you.”
“A hot freight train, but, yeah, ya did,” he said, laughing his ass off as she looked ready to bolt. As she reached the door, he ran to catch up, his ankle screaming at him. “Wait. Trace. I need to know, because I don’t remember you having even the slightest of self-esteem issues. What happened, to make you doubt yourself like this?”
“That very boring date with a man more boring than I am. Some lousy breakups. Last summer,” she said, releasing a hefty sigh. “I don’t do fun things anymore. Maybe I never was that fun. Whatever. Since coming home, I’ve been ticking off all the boxes to live well and feel confident, but, I guess it’s harder than I realized, living your best life and all. I can’t seem to get a solid grasp of it. Of me, of life, all of it.”
“Like having what should be epic sex, but you’re too drunk to orgasm?” Cole quickly closed his eyes and hoped to hell she could still take it as good as she dished it.
Trace snorted a laugh and shook her head at him. “Actually, yes. But self-esteem is not as fleeting as intoxication.”
“Lace panties and blowjobs will definitely make you feel much more confident,” he teased, unable to resist, in hot pursuit of her scrunchy-nosed grin.
She paused and looked back over her shoulder, ready to burst out laughing again. “It’s called symbolism,” she teased. “Or dressing for the job you want. Or faking it until making it. You should come to my poetry elective, if you have questions.”
Pulse thundering faster than the workout had induced, he scrambled to keep up. “Let’s head into Seattle one of these days. I’ll get a haircut and invest in a new wardrobe that makes me feel confident and comfortable, while you symbolically take that imposter syndrome by the horns via buying black lace.”
“Okay,” she said softly, her eyes lighting up as she seemed to be making a shopping list already. “Getting out of town to bust out of my frumpy shell is probably the way to go.”
A smile twitched at the corners of his lips as he indulged in baiting her. “If you want opinions, you can try stuff on and model some black lace getups and I’ll let you know if they’re too frumpy.”
Tipping her head back, she grinned wide and hooted a laugh. “No.”
“We could make a whole arrangement out of this. Blowjob imposter syndrome? It’s all about practice. I could help—“
“No.”
“I meant you can practice on a cucumber, and I’ll give you tips.”
