Page 61 of The Widower
Yeah. Definitely a bad idea to admire the way his muscles moved like that...
“Nothing to say?” he asked, his tone slightly harsh.
“I... I just came to ask if you needed anything,” I blurted out—the worst lie imaginable.
Great excuse, Isabelle. You’re setting a new record for bad cover stories.
“To what do I owe the honor of you suddenly caring about me?” he asked, still pressing the barbell, not even glancing my way.
“I got my first paycheck today. Survived an entire month working for you,” I said, conveniently ignoring the real reason I’d come—to deliver his package.
Still, what I said wasn’t exactly a lie.
Was the first week absolute hell? Yes. But with some stubborn determination (and a few mental curses), I managed to tolerate Colin. And now, thanks to that, I can finally pay off a bunch of overdue bills.
“I hope you’re not expecting a ‘congratulations’ or anything, considering you should’ve been fired that first week. I took pity on you—and you know it.”
“Hey, don’t say that,” I protested, stepping into the massive gym, which was ridiculously big for one person.
“I’m just being honest.”
“And why didn’t you fire me then, huh? Care to explain that?”
Now I was standing just a few feet away from his perfectly sculpted body. Oh, God. What a temptation.
Get it together, woman.
“Like I said, I took pity on you.”
“Liar. You like me.”
He set the weights down and sat up on the bench, staring at me with disbelief.
“Hold on. You really think I like being questioned about my own work, fixing things that aren’t my problem, and having my gym invaded? That last one alone is enough reason to fire you.”
He was still being a jerk, but deep down, I knew something had changed. And you know what? I was going to prove it right now.
“Really? If you’re so brave, then fire me right now.”
Colin laughed—a rich, low laugh—but I wasn’t joking. I seriously doubted he’d go through with it.
“I told you before,” he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. “You shouldn’t play with me.”
“Looks to me like you’re the one who doesn’t have the guts,” I shot back, crossing my arms.
“I thought you were smarter than that.Provoking me and putting your job at risk isn’t exactly something I’d recommend.”
“I’m confident, can’t help it. I’m doing my job the best I can despite your attitude—but I’ve kind of gotten used to it, you know? At this point, nothing really gets to me anymore.”
“Right.” He lay back on the bench, getting ready for another set. “Go do your job and get out of my gym.”
“No.”
“Isabelle… don’t test my patience. That wasn’t a request.”
“I’m not leaving. Not my fault if you’re scared of me.”
Let’s see how far he can take this.
