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I stilled.
It absolutely looked like I was giving the air a thorough hand-job.
Whoops.
Clearing my throat, I dropped my arm at my side and flicked a loose hair out of my eyes. “But seriously. You’re in a weirdly good mood.”
“Why is that weird?”
“Because you just got your ass handed to you by Coach Madsen.”
He sauntered toward me, hands still hidden in his pockets. “How would you know? You were too engrossed in annihilating some vision of happy trees that didn’t deserve to feel joy.”
“I have ears,” I said, strolling up to him. Then I deepened my voice to imitate a male cadence and stated, “No, stop, please! I’m done, it’s too much! Have mercy!”
“That’s definitely not how it went down.”
I shrugged, tucking in my lips to hide my smile. “Fine, all I heard were man-grunts and growls. But you look wrecked.”
“It was a good session.” We met in the center of the workout room and he plopped down on the bench, staring up at me. “You’re up next.”
Nodding, I stretched an arm across my chest and held it there for a few seconds. “I’m ready.”
“We should grab dinner afterward.”
I froze, blinking down at him. “Why?”
“Why not? It’s dinnertime. Food generally goes along with the concept.”
“Why together?”
He hesitated, tilting his head to the side. “Again…why not?”
My jaw tensed as I dipped my chin and stewed over a response. I didn’t have an answer, really. Scotty and I had gotten closer over the last six weeks, Christmas morphing into a bitter January, while February brought with it even colder temps and heavy mounds of snow. We were friends. He was twenty; only a year older than me. He was also a good guy.
A compatible potential boyfriend.
What a concept.
But my heart still recklessly ached for the thirty-five-year-old father of my best friend, who had wormed his way into our conversation and was now hovering in the doorway with a scowl.
“Thought you had dinner plans with Tara,” Reed clipped.
Scotty whirled around on the bench. “Sorry, Coach. Wasn’t trying to interfere.”
Reed stared at me with dark eyes, his hair damp with sweat and his sleeveless dove-gray tank soaked through.
I stared back at him for a beat then swallowed, averting my gaze. “Dinner sounds great, Scotty. How about that retro diner off Seventh Street?”
Scotty blinked back to me, looking newly uncertain. “Uh, sure. If that’s all right with Coach.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I zoomed past him on the bench, then bumped arms with Reed as I exited the workout room and made a beeline toward the mats. “Ready to train, Coach,” I called over my shoulder. “Do your worst.”
This was smart.
This was what I needed—a distraction. A different guy to inhabit my mind, until all thoughts of the unattainable Reed Madsen flitted from my brain like a bird leaving its nest for brighter skies.
It was something I should have done a long time ago. A few guys at school were interested, and Tara’s boyfriend, Josh, had some marginally appealing friends. I supposed my tastes were more in line with older, wiser, emotionally distant men who smelled like earth and ivy, warm amber, and a plethora of compelling sexual fantasies, but that didn’t matter.