Page 76 of Make You Love Me
“I know.”
I give her a quick hug. “If you see Jordan before I’m finished—”
“I’ll let him know you’re busy melting hearts.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask with a little too much virtue to be believable. “It’s not hot yoga.”
“Ha. Maybe not, but I’ve seen the guys in your class. In a matter of minutes, they melt into puddles at your feet.”
“What can I say?” I shrug. “I’m good at my job. Glad I wore my good yoga pants today.” I wink as we walk out together, Sydney’s arm linking with mine.
“Ha. In that outfit, I worry about our sensitive grumps.”
I look down at the window of the baby blue V-neck specifically chosen to stir something inside Jordan. “It’s impossible not to show cleavage in V-necks, and if I’m going to do something, I’m going to give it one hundred percent effort.”
“Well, you, at full effort, is everyone else’s two hundred. So, go easy on them.”
“Never,” I declare, and duck into the classroom to greet my unsuspecting students.
???
Jordan
“Stop. Please,” I ask of the therapy assistant, pushing my chair toward the lobby. We pause at the door of a small classroom beside the main fitness room.
I see Nora in the mirror talking with a man and laughing. He slides on a long, white coat before settling his hand on the small of her back as they make their way toward us. What is she doing in there with him?
“Hi,” she says, stopping just outside the door frame when she sees me. “I was about to come find you. Thanks, Liv,” she says to dismiss my guide.
“Saved you the trip.” My eyes dart to the Clark Kent double standing protectively tall beside her. Glasses, dark hair styled perfectly into place, sizable pecs protruding inside his T-shirt—royal blue, of course.
“Jordan,” I greet, reaching out my right hand.
“Henry,” he says casually in a subtle British accent as he shakes my hand. I smile at the irony, and he returns it, mistaking my amusement for friendliness. Nora, who knows me well enough to know the difference, is shooting laser eyes at me—the same kind Superman would use to slice cars in half. I flash her the same grin with a touch ofI caught you, singeing the edges.
“See you next class,” Henry says, touching her elbow before strutting away.
Nora waits until he disappears into the doctor’s offices before whipping around to me. “What was that?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” I smirk, and her eyes narrow as she surveys me. “He thinks you’re hot.”
“And I think he’s a co-worker.”
“A hot co-worker. Does he always dress like that?”
“Like what?” she says with a sigh, taking hold of the chair handles.
“Like Clark Kent.”
“Who’s—” She pauses to let the pieces fall into place. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. And his name is Henry.” A guilty giggle bubbles out, and it’s the cutest sound. I’d like to record it to replay on cloudy days.
“I can’t either. Bet he has an entire wardrobe of blue shirts to bring attention to it.”
She pushes me out the door, stops on the sidewalk, and leans down to whisper in my ear, “Are you jealous of the Henry Cavill stunt double masquerading as a doctor so he canwoome into being his Lois Lane?”
“Great use of my word,” I say before getting back to the issue. “You noticed him flirting?”
“Hard not to.” She pushes the chair into motion. “He’s never subtle about it.”
