Page 26 of The Liar's Reckoning

He laughs. “Not at all. It’s what my father wanted, and the challenge sounded interesting.”

“You like to keep busy, huh?” I ask.

“Kind of. Yeah. You’re not really one to talk.”

“Hey, if I could drop the doorman gig, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but it pays my health insurance.”

“That’sthe job you’d quit?”

“I like training, and the other one—” I glance at him for this, “That’s just easy money.”

“Is it always?” he asks.

I look away just as fast, down at the path beneath my feet. “Some nights are better than others.”

“I bet you have stories.”

“Yeah, but I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You kiss? Huh. Don’t seem to recall that.”

“Like I told you at the time. It’s way extra.”

“You did leave a mark, though,” he says, and I stop in my tracks.

“I what?”

Graham stops, too, and pulls his phone out of his inner jacket pocket. Opening it, he scrolls before turning the screen to me,and there it is, a mirror selfie focused in on a spot right underneath his left ear, a tiny mouth-shaped hickey. My balls tighten dangerously as I look at the photograph for a few seconds too long. I start walking again, hoping to distract myself from what’s happening behind my athletic cup. “Sorry about that. I hope you didn’t have to explain that to anyone on your wedding day.”

“A little concealer…bada bing…”

I roll my eyes. We cross the bridge overlooking the Bethesda fountain as we make our way to the west side of the park. I like this side better. It feels wilder and more private, but that could just be the paths I like to take. The ones less traveled.

“Ready to run?” I ask.

“If I have to.”

I reach out to swat him in the ass but whip my hand back at the last second.What the fuck was that?Fifteen more minutes, and I’m calling this a day.

Friday,I find Graham waiting for me on Park Avenue—but this time, he’s here uninvited. We parted with a couple of see you laters, and we have a training session at the gym scheduled for five this evening, but I guess he couldn’t wait? Or he’s taking my advice about cardio to heart.

He’s wearing sunglasses and a backwards ball cap along with a new shirt like the one I’d worn the other day, but sadly, his pants are baggy. Shit, even his slight hint of love handles are hot. I’d almost rather skip core workouts with him altogether than risk losing that soft midsection of his.

I also love a tight body, though, so my wanting to keep him less than model-perfect could also be for the selfish reason of maintaining my dignity around him.

I try not to look surprised to see him. He’s not the mostenthusiastic of my clients, so this attempt at extra credit does impress me. I pull out my earbud and squint at him. “Have you formally decided on running, or is this a trial period?” See, I can talk to him without being a complete dick.

“Trial period,” he says. “My shins were killing me after last time, but I figured you might have some tips or tell me it works itself out eventually.”

“And your feet are okay in those shoes?”

“You were wrong about the blisters. No offense.”

“I can teach you some stretches for your shins. It usually works itself out.” I program my watch for a thirty minute walk-run. I’ll have to hit the treadmill later to get my usual cardio in, but this morning, I’ll just enjoy the view.

He’s vaguely disguised, and I guess he has his reasons, but this version of him is stupid sexy. The cap does things to me—the kind of things that make me want to do bad things to him. It’s been a while since I’ve had a genuine crush on someone. I’ll find men attractive in passing, and if my straight roommate Drew ever wants to experiment and make out with me, I’ll be absolutely down for it, but this kind of unrequited pining is painful in multiple regions of my body. Chest, dick, my ass a little bit.

Fuck.

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