Page 6 of 10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

“How about you?” he asks, barely out of breath. “Do any screwing today? Screw…drivering? Wait, no. Drilling! Drill any holes today?” He pauses before muttering, “Why does that sound so odd?”

“I, uh…” A cough sneaks its way out as I try to figure out what allthatwas. And why I was into it.

Brad looks over at me sympathetically before pulling something out of his pocket. “Dude. Here,” he says, holding out a couple…cough drops? “Figured you might need these.”

I hop up onto the sides of the treadmill and stare at him. “You brought me cough drops?”

“Yeah, man. Gotta look out for my bro.”

Stunned at the thoughtful—albeit unnecessary—concern, I accept the wrapped lozenges. “Thank you,” I manage. I’m not remotely sick, but the wink Brad sends me does have me feeling slightly feverish.

“You bet,” he says easily.

Fuck. This man. I barely know him, and I’m already wondering what kind of fence he’d like around his backyard. White picket?

Slipping the cough drops into my pocket, I hop back onto the belt of the treadmill. Brad and I jog alongside one another for a while, the sounds of our breaths and slapping feet a constant amongst the echoing clangs and light chatter inside the gym. He called me one step down from a bear the other day, but I’mnot that much larger than him. Maybe an inch in height, a little bulkier, sure. But Brad has that lean muscle I’ve always found myself attracted to.

Honestly, I find every single thing about the guy attractive. Even the way he saysbro.

I think I might be in trouble.

“You loose enough?” Brad asks.

My head whips his way, and it takes me alongsecond to realize he’s talking about our warm-up. “Yeah, uh, I’m good.”

“Cool, cool,” he says, stopping his machine. He steps off the treadmill and picks up his water bottle, guzzling a bit down. “So, what do you want to do first? Arms? Legs?”

“I’m easy,” I tell him. “You pick.”

His grin is mildly concerning. “Let’s do deadlifts.”

Oh boy.

“Do you plan on torturing us today?” I tease as we head in that direction.

He shakes his head, brown hair flopping around a bit. “Nah, man,” he says seriously. “I’m not into sadism. Or masochism, for that matter. Giving or receiving pain isn’t my thing.”

“Good to know,” I mumble, slipping that fact away and feeling rather flushed.

Brad goes on, seemingly oblivious to my mental and physical state as he stops in front of the weight station. “This, on the other hand…” He starts loading up his weights. Nothing too outrageous. “This, I enjoy.”

His grin is evidence of that fact. I wait on the sidelines as Brad gets his barbell ready. Once set, he adjusts his grip and starts his reps. Turns out, deadlifts are a lot more enjoyable than I remember. I wish I could say my eyes aren’t glued to Brad’s ass as he repeatedly lifts the weights off the ground, but I’d be lying. It’s fruitless to even pretend otherwise.

It’s clear Brad isn’t trying to beat any records or even bulk up. No, he’s all energy and boundless joy, like he gets a thrill out of the simple act of exercising. I can’t help but wonder, to my own detriment, if he’s that enthusiastic in bed.

It’s far too soon to be thinking that way—and I dismiss the thought before my body has time to properly react—but I can’t deny Brad has me more excited about a potential first date than I’ve been in a long damn time.

Does he want kids?

“Your turn,” Brad says, smiling as he steps aside and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

I clear my throat and get into place in front of the barbell, but Brad’s hand on my hip has me stalling.

“You can probably handle more weight than me,” he points out. “Want me to add twenty, or do you wanna keep it light? No shame in that. Not trying to pressure you.”

“Go ahead and add fifty,” I find myself saying.

Andgreat, now I’m showing off?

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