Page 76 of Almost Ours
The front door burst open and Harper flew in, a handful of snow packed tightly in her mittened fist.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned, already scrambling backward across the couch.
“Oh, I dare,” she said with a wicked grin.
I dove to the side too late. The snow went straight down the back of my shirt.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelped, flailing like a cat in a bathtub.
She was doubled over, laughing so hard she had to brace herself against the coffee table. “That wassomuch better than going to the bathroom.”
“You’re a menace,” I said, twisting around and trying to shake out the ice cold slush now melting down my spine.
She grinned. “Don’t mess with my gummy worms.”
I shook my head, trying not to smile. “You’re lucky your kid is asleep or I’d be dragging you outside and dumping you in a snowbank.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
Our eyes met, both of us grinning, breathless from laughing. Something quiet slipped into the space between us again.
And just as fast, she turned away, tugging her mittens back off and grabbing a towel to wipe the snow off the floor.
“Totally worth it,” she said under her breath.
And I couldn’t help but agree.
God help me, I really liked her.
And it was only getting harder to pretend I didn’t.
I wipedthe sweat from my forehead with the edge of my sleeve, grateful Nina had convinced me to tag along this morning. It had been a while since I’d stepped foot in a gym, and even longer since I’d felt like myself inside one. But something about moving my body–pushing through reps, feeling the burn in my legs–cleared the fog in my head.
“Well, well, look who’s still got it,” Nina said, smirking at me from the squat rack. “You sure you’ve been out of the gym for a year? Because your ass is out here trying to sign an endorsement deal.”
I snorted, grabbing my water bottle. “They’d probably settle for not cramping halfway up the stairs.”
We made our way toward the open gym area, weaving between benches and machines, when Nina suddenly grabbed my arm and whispered, “Incoming.”
“What?”
She jerked her chin discreetly toward the free weights.
Ryan.
Shirt damp with sweat. Sleeves shoved up his forearms. Hair a little messy. That focused expression on his face as he curleda weight in one hand, bicep flexing under the strain like it was straight out of a damn sports commercial.
I nearly tripped over my own shoelace.
“Jesus,” I muttered, blinking rapidly and looking anywhere but directly at him. “Is that legal?”
Nina grinned. “Pretty sure he’s the reason the mirrors fog up in here.”
Next to Ryan, Shane was doing something with a medicine ball–grunting and throwing it at the wall like it had personally offended him. Ryan, on the other hand, was calm, controlled. Like he didn’t even realize the number of heads turning his way.
And mine was spinning.
