Page 100 of Ripped & Shipped
“Obviously. I mean, look at you. You’re quite a specimen. I know I always joke with you about it, but you’re pretty impressive.” She reaches over and squeezes my bicep. “Gosh. You’re like a rock, Soldier.”
She’s killing me. Kill-ing. Me.
“We should workout together sometime. It would make a great photo shoot. We’ve done the whole yoga thing. You could even bench press me. My peeps wouldlovethat.”
I laugh out loud. “I’m not bench pressing you.”
“You could, though. Right?”
“Here’s a concept. Just because youcando something, doesn’t mean youshoulddo it.”
“How about you tell me what you can bench.”
I pause. I know I’m in shape. I work hard to maintain my level of fitness.
“Around 385.”
“Pounds?!”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, my word.”
She mocks fanning herself.
“You could bench Duke!”
“Like he’d sit still for that.”
We both laugh.
“Anyway, we should workout together. Don’t you think?”
“We could,” I agree. “I’ll ask Davis if it would be okay for you to come by the firehouse sometime when I’m going to lift.”
She smiles big, like a kid waiting for the family trip to Disney.
Our conversation shifts from exercise to the events of the weekend. Turns out, Ella Mae’s a little nervous about the people we’re going to be around—aka my friend group. After all, we’re fake dating and most of the people from Bordeaux at this reception are not her biggest fans.
“I think I’m going to catch some shade being thrown my way for dating you,” she says.
Her brow furrows and I want to drag her right next to me and keep her tucked under my arm so she’ll never feel that vulnerable again.
“I’ve got you, Boots. I won’t stand for anyone treating you with anything less than complete respect.”
“Boots,” she says with a giggle. “I’ve never had a nickname before.”
“Never?” She sure dishes out the nicknames. I’m surprised no one ever gave her one. “Do you like it?”
“Truth?”
“Always,” I say.
Insisting on truth feels a little ironic since we’re colluding to pull off a farce online and in person right now. But I always want nothing but complete honesty between us.
Ella Mae’s voice is soft when she answers me. “I love it.” She says the nickname under her breath. “Boots.”
I glance over at her. “Good. I’m glad. It fits you.”
