Page 46 of Unwanted

“Arlo’s office?” I echo in question.

“Yeah, I’m assuming that’s why you offered to drive me and are coming inside.”

My cheeks heat in embarrassment. “I-I didn’t…” I stammer.

“It’s fine.” Rhys waves me off. “He’s usually in there at this time of the day, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

I didn’t know if Rhys and Arlo had discussed what he and I were to each other, but I didn’t feel like now was the time to tell him that happy was the last thing Arlo was going to be when he saw me.

I watch Rhys walk away and join a group of people milling around a row of treadmills. My eyes drift around the gym and notice some commotion in what looks to be like the designated weight area.

It takes me less than five seconds to realize a few people are gathered around to watch someone lift weights, and it takes me only a second longer than that to realize the person they’re all watching is Arlo.

My feet move of their own volition, fast and determined, but as I get closer I force myself to stop, wanting to watch Arlo in his element.

His muscles strain against his sweat covered skin as he pushes against the weighted barbell. Raising it into the air and back down to his chest again, he does it three more times before resting it back on the stand.

I’m mesmerized by him.

And not just by the sheer beauty of him.

It was what I could see radiating from the inside.

There was no denying how attractive he was. From the hair on his head, right down to the tips of his toes, his body was a work of art.

He looked like he’d been sculpted out of stone, with deep curves and sharp angles in all the right places. Every part of him was a product of hard work and dedication, and that’s what made it impossible to look away.

His strength surpassed how much he could lift or how far he could run. His strength came from within. It was in his insistence to change and determination to stay sober. It was in the success of this building and in the camaraderie of his clients.

It was in everything he had endured and achieved in the last four years.

He was strength personified, and I couldn’t look away.

“Frankie?” He sits up and throws a leg over the bench, then rises to his feet. At his full height and shirtless, it’s even harder not to stare at him. His skin glistening, the sheen of sweat accentuating the width of his chest, the valley of his hips, and the firmness of his thighs.

His shorts were exactly that—short. They left nothing to the imagination and skyrocketed my need for him to unreachable heights.

“Frankie,” Arlo repeats. “What are you doing here?”

My eyes dart to his and my whole body heats at the look on his face.

I’m pleased to see the absence of disappointment in his expression. He’s schooling his features, as if showing me how he really feels might just give away more than he’s willing, but I don’t miss the quick lift of his lips and the blazing heat in his eyes.

“Rhys needed a ride.” I offer him my practiced response, but for the sake of transparency add a little bit of the truth. “And I wanted to see you at work.”

He looks around, and that’s when I remember there are a whole bunch of gym goers surrounding him, who are now watching our whole exchange.

“I’m sorry if you’re busy.” I shove my hands into my jeans pockets, only now noticing how overdressed I look in my pants, boots, and t-shirt.

“Don’t be,” Arlo assures. He grabs a towel that was hanging on the edge of the bench and wipes down his face and chest.

My eyes follow every movement.

“I’ve got to grab my shirt from my office first, but I could give you a tour if you have time.”

For Arlo, I had nothing but time.

“That sounds good.”

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