Page 24 of Over the Moon

Like I said, the man oozed confidence.

He seemed nice enough, and he was a friend of Emilia’s, so a little harmless flirting seemed fine.

“Very smooth.”

“I like to think so,” he smirked. “How about you dance with me, and then you can decide.”

“I have two left feet. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough out there tonight,” I said.

“I don’t think that’s the case. I couldn’t take my eyes off you when you were out there.”

“I find that hard to believe, unless you just enjoy watching disasters,” I chuckled, just as a big body moved beside me.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Clark said before turning to glare at Brett. What the hell could have happened that had them so bothered by one another? “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Yes. Of course,” I said, before turning to Brett. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll be back.”

I followed Clark as he led me across the bar and outside, and I noticed the way his movements were still slightly stiff, which told me it was either the brace beneath his jeans or that he was still in pain. He turned around to face me.

“Be careful with that guy.”

“Did you seriously call me out here to tell me that?” I asked, hands on my hips. The nerve of this man. Why did everyone feel the need to tell me who to avoid and how to behave? I wasn’t a child.

“No, but it’s worth saying. He’s an asshole.”

“Thanks for the information. He wasn’t quite as unkind about you, but it’s clear you aren’t besties.” I shook my head, making no attempt to hide my irritation. “I’m a big girl, Hotshot. You need not worry.”

He looked away before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Fine.”

“Fine. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about? Is your knee bothering you? Are you having issues?”

“No. I’m fine,” he huffed. “I wanted to ask if you thought I could start running soon.”

This is what was so urgent?

Something we’d already discussed numerous times.

“It’s going to be a couple of weeks before you start running again. But swimming is a good alternative, and I’m fine with you doing that as often as you want.”

“I thought you told me not to swim tomorrow,” he said, quirking a brow.

“Well, yeah. You work out hard six days a week. Sunday is a rest day. Your body needs a full day to recover before we move into another challenging week.”

He looked away, and I didn’t miss the disappointment. “All right.”

I chuckled. “Is resting that hard for you?”

“I don’t know. I’m used to moving more. I just feel like I’m not doing enough cardio.”

My chest squeezed at his words because I was a type A overachiever myself, so I understood that feeling all too well. Anytime I wasn’t giving 100 percent, I felt like I was failing.

Clark was an interesting guy. He acted all cool and laid back, but his work ethic could challenge any athlete I’d ever worked with. He pushed himself until I forced him to stop most days.

“Listen, you’re doing a lot right now. Five hours a day between physical therapy, weights and strength training, stretching, swimming, walking and cycling.”

He nodded. “I like to get my heart rate going. Work up a sweat.”

I’ll bet you do, Clark Chadwick.

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