Page 30 of Extended Bridge

Is he challenging me in order to be obstinate? “There’s a reason for my procedure,” I explain. “We need to warm up the muscles in a certain order.”

“All of these exercises work the same muscle group.”

My hands fly to my hips. “It’ll work better if you start with this one.”

He raises his hands. “Not trying to pick a fight here. We’ll do it your way.” He adjusts his trajectory and begins his therapy. Why can’t the man simply listen to me the first time?

I offer him slight corrections, but for the most part, he’s got a great handle on things. When I pick up the bands, he eyes them skeptically. After I go over the positives of using them and demonstrate how to use them in a couple of exercises, he relents.

“Damn.” He wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “These are tougher than I anticipated.”

“They’re good for you.” I bring him over to do skater leaps, encouraging him to add a small jump to the steps he’s been doing. Hesitation is written all over his face. “Let me show you again,” I offer.

With measured steps, I do the exercise. My leap, if you could call it that, is akin to a glorified hop. If he can start adding these to his rotation, it’ll build up more muscle around the pull. Not going to force him, however.

He leans over into the proper position and does them with a step.

“Good job. Now try to add in a slight little baby jump.”

His mouth pulls in concentration. He adds a step-hop to the next one and I clap. “You did it! Good job!”

Bennett grins. “I did it? I really did it?”

“You did! Next time, feel free to add an even bigger jump. Not too much. I don’t want you overtaxing that muscle.”

He nods and repeats the exercise with little jumps. After ten times, I call it. “Great! You don’t want to overdo it. What’s your pain meter?”

He rises to his full height, his six-foot-two body towering over my five-foot-six-inch frame. “I’d give it about a five.”

“Six,” I correct. “Not too bad.”

He glances around for a table to end his session. “Should I lie down on the floor?”

“If you don’t mind. You could go into the main gym area, but I think that would cause more of a stir.”

“True.” He swipes his bottle of water and glugs down about half. “Good session today. Surprisingly, I liked the bands.”

“Which you balked at,” I remind him, starting to massage his thigh. His muscular thigh. Attached to his extremely fit body. While his external appearance is off the charts, it’s what’s inside that’s truly sexy. All he’s overcome.

Dare I get lost in another rock star’s life? What will happen to everything I’ve built over these past years? No. I simply can’t allow myself to get lost in him and the messy world of UC again.

Finishing his massage—during which he’s been blessedly quiet—I busy myself with the next order of business, ice. When the ice pack is in place, I walk through the room, collecting the therapy items. All the weights and bands and towels soon are piled near the door.

He pats the floor next to him. “Sit.”

Because I don’t have anything left to do, I fold my legs and sit next to him. By next, I mean about three feet.

“You really like being in control, don’t you?”

His question catches me off guard. “Nothing wrong with control.”

“I agree. I mean, if I didn’t take the reins, who would for the band? Guess it takes one to recognize it in another.”

Silence extends.

When I can’t take it any longer, I say, “There’s a reason why I like things in a certain order. For your exercises, we were taught to take them one by one because each builds upon the prior one.”

“Makes sense.” His fingers play with the ice pack before dropping them to the floor. “Like last night?”

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