Page 30 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

I shove at him, hard. He stumbles enough for me to take a step back. Humiliation burns in my face and neck, and tears of rage are tickling the back of my eyelids.

The trepidation I felt when I stepped into his apartment is nothing compared to what I feel now.

“You’re right.” It’s hard saying those words to him, but I get a glimmer of satisfaction, watching his eyes widen in surprise and uncertainty. “I won’t be able to hold up my end of the deal. I’ll find another way to solve my issues.”

His smile slips off his lips.

Good,I think. I’d rather take Confused Ken than Smug Ken, any day, any time.

Holding onto that tiny hint of gratification, I storm out of his apartment.

NINE

PUSHING THROUGH THE PAIN (KEN)

Even before I see him, I can tell that Tools, my personal trainer, is going to be livid.

“You showed up today.” His voice rings out loud and clear, cutting through the entire gym and causing everyone in the vicinity to look around. “I’m pleasantly surprised.”

I force a grin as I stride up to him, ignoring the jibe. Tools is about the only man I know whose height and weight far outstrip mine. At six-foot-five and a whooping three hundred pounds of lean muscle, he’s the kind of guy you don’t want to mess around with. He’s also more than ten years older than me and has no reservations calling me out.

Which is exactly why I wanted him to train me.

“I missed onesession,” I remind him, because he’s looking like he’s considering bashing my head in with a hammer. “Let’s not make an international incident out of it.”

He growls and nods toward the weights. I sit down on the bench and wait for his directions. Instead, Tools keeps glowering at me.

“Two. What’s the point of paying me if all you do is play hooky?”

“You should be happy,” I tell him. “Means you get to pocket all that cash for nothing.”

“Also means that people who know I’m training you can prattle about how much I suck. I’ll take a good reputation over good money any day of the week.”

I bite back the urge to remind him that I’m in great shape. The session I missed was a few weeks ago, when I decided I’d rather stalk Charlie at her gym than come to mine. The second one happened more recently, the day after she came to my house to tell me that we were married.

Every recent upheaval in my life is linked to her. Particularly the tumult going on in my head, every damn second of every day.

After a warm-up, Tools puts me to work. I follow his instructions, ignoring the fact that he’s punishing me, pushing me through the stances a little harder than he’d ordinarily do. My muscles strain as I begin to squat. A throbbing burn spreads in my legs, but I welcome it. Hell, I almost like it. Working out, having to endure Tools’s instructions, hearing the low thrum of other gym goers… This makes me feel more alive than anything has in a long while.

A differentkind of alive, anyway. One that isn’t dependent on Charlie’s presence.

We move to bench presses. Streams of sweat are running down my face and my arms when we’re done. I stand up from the bench panting, tired beyond words. But I also feel better than I have in months.

“Thanks, man.”

Tools doesn’t seem in the slightest removed from his bad mood. “Miss another session and I’m going to have your head, literally.” He pulls out his iPad and consults hisschedule. “Think we should focus on some accessory work now. You’ve missed leg day once, and your calves are looking pretty sorry.”

I open my mouth, a retort heavily loaded, until a voice cuts through.

“He looks pretty good to me.”

We both turn around. Standing behind me is a slim-figured woman. I instantly recognize her as one of the regulars. Her hair, with streaks of red, is in a smooth ponytail, and she’s clothed in a tank top and a pair of leggings. She looks casual enough, but there’s no mistaking the look in her eyes. I’ve had women look at me that way a million times.

I flash a grin at her, but Tools snaps on his usual, brash demeanor for situations like this.

“Not to me. Let’s load the machine. Now.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m Bailey,” she says, winking at me. “See you around.” Then she turns and walks away.

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