Page 47 of False Assumptions

“Riiight.”

His blue eyes were serious when they met hers. “Exercise is important, Layla.”

She shrugged. “I know. I go hiking and like to go for walks.” She waved a hand around. “I’m just more of a get-out-and-enjoy-nature, sit-under-a-tree-with-a-book kind of girl than a gym rat.”

One eyebrow arched at her statement. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. If you lifted weights, you might find hiking easier and more enjoyable.”

She made a noncommittal noise, which he seemed to take as agreement, because he let it go, moving over to the free weights while she finished the exercises he’d shown her then went to walk on a treadmill.

Evan worked out in a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a pair of mesh athletic shorts. She’d picked the treadmill with the best view of the free weight area, and this was better than trying to read or watch TV. His biceps bulged as he did curls and other exercises that worked his arms. And when he put the bar across the back of his neck and started doing squats—holy hell. She almost fell off the treadmill. He had his back to her while he faced the mirror, his brow furrowed from the effort of each rep, his shorts stretching tight across the perfect, round muscles of his ass.

The next time he wanted to come to the gym, he’d get no argument from her. This was a hundred times better than learning how to make her ankle feel better. Could she work out with him all the time? She could convince him he’d made a convert out of her. Though he might see through it if all she did was hang out at the treadmill and drool while he actually worked out.Whatever.Who cares?She’d get to stare at his ass while he did squats.

When he straightened the last time, he caught her eye in the mirror, a smirk on his face at her blatant ogling. And she had no shame about that at all.

“I’m going to have to go back to work next week.”

Evan stopped chewing for a second, then looked up at Layla sitting across the table from him. They’d showered together at his apartment after working out on Thursday—and had a different kind of workout in the shower—then went for a late lunch at a burrito place.

Swallowing his bite, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “What?”

She took a sip of her drink. “My ankle’s better, so I can handle standing on it again. I work in the library shelving books. I haven’t been in the last few weeks since I got hurt, but now that I’m better, I’ll start again on Monday. So that means I can start driving myself again. You can go back to your normal schedule.”

“You don’t want me to drive you anymore?” Fuck. He knew things would change after spring break, but with the way the week had been going, he thought it would change for the better. Obviously with classes, he wouldn’t get to see her as much as this week. But he thought they’d made progress. She initiated as much as he did, and they still talked and laughed and read together. In short, the week had been perfect. And now she didn’t want to ride with him to school?

Her hand stretched across the table. “No, Evan. No. That’s not what I’m saying. If you want to pick me up on the days I don’t work in the evening, we can still do that. But when I do work, I’m usually there until late. I figured it would be easier to take my own car. I mean, I know you wait for me a few days a week as it is, but you work out then, right? You can’t work out for five hours. That’s not healthy.”

He sat back in his chair, the napkin still crumpled in his hand. “Okay. If you want to drive yourself, that’s fine.” He paused, considering his next words. “But I like driving you.” It had become their thing, and the idea of giving that up didn’t sit well with him. “And if you’re working, I won’t get to see you much on those days. So if I bring you to school and pick you up after work, I’d see you more.” Leaning forward, he threaded his fingers through hers, lowering his voice. “I’ve gotten used to seeing you every day since you twisted your ankle. And this week—after this week it’s going to be torture going back to sleeping in separate apartments. Don’t make me give up driving you, too.”

Christ, he sounded like a lovesick fool. But he didn’t care. Layla made his days brighter, more fun, more stimulating in every way. Giving that up? That was like going from a tropical climate to the arctic overnight. Horrible. If he had to beg, he would.

Squeezing his fingers, she gave him a wistful smile. “You really want to just sit around on campus for hours waiting for me?”

He shrugged. “I could do homework in the library. Or do whatever and come back to pick you up. We’ll figure it out.” He hoped. Somehow it seemed like if she started driving herself, she’d decide finding time for him would be too much trouble, and he’d lose her. Maybe that was ridiculous, but he didn’t feel like questioning it.

“Really? You’d do that?” Her voice held a note of disbelief, but also hope. Did that mean she wanted him to keep driving her?

“Yes.” Christ, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for her. He didn’t tell her that, though. Instead he closed his mouth and waited, willing her to give in.

“Okay. I’d like that. But I still think you’ll get tired of it after a week or two.”

She tried to pull her hand back, but before he let go, he pulled it to his mouth and kissed it, flashing her a quick grin. “Not likely. But I’ll let you know if I do, okay?”

“Okay.” Her smile was warmer now, and somehow he felt like he’d won a major battle getting her to agree. It confirmed to him that she liked their routine as much as he did. And it meant he’d still see her every day, even if it was just snatches here and there. If they were riding together, maybe he could convince her to stay over sometimes on weekdays. Or he could stay with her. That could totally work. Carter’d probably like having the apartment to himself all night sometimes too.

Satisfied, he resumed eating, smiling at her again. She might still think he wasn’t that serious about this thing between them, but slowly he’d win her over to his way of thinking. It was just a matter of time.

Layla woke to soft lips pressing against her neck. Evan’s fingers brushed her hair out of the way, then trailed down her side, gripping her hip to pull her back against him. His erection pressed along the crack of her ass, and she pushed back in encouragement.

“Good morning,” he whispered, his hand exploring further, tweaking her nipples before drifting down between her thighs.

“Good morning.” When she said it, it came out on a moan since he’d started making slow, light circles around her clit. Trapped between his cock and his fingers, she was waking up in sensual bliss. This was the best alarm clock ever. Or alarm cock.

His lips curved against her shoulder. “Did you just call me an alarm cock?”

She stifled a giggle. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Mmhmm.”

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