Page 39 of Over the Moon

“Listen,” he said, as his gaze zoned in on where the straw sat between my lips as I sucked down a big gulp. “You spend five hours a day doing what I want, so I just thought we could incorporate a little bit of you into our days, too.”

I finished off the shake and made my way around the kitchen island to the sink, where I rinsed my glass and loaded it into the dishwasher. We were so far past being professional with one another, I didn’t know how to handle it. I’d already seen the man with an incredibly noticeable boner when we had our moment in the river. Hell, I couldn’t get thoughts of what he’d done in the shower that day out of my head. This was a disaster. I was incredibly attracted to him, and it was getting more difficult to pretend I didn’t like him. But the truth was, I couldn’t like him.It wasn’t even an option. I shook off the feeling and turned to look at him. “Okay. I like it. Maybe we’ll argue less over things if we write them down and have time to respond. All while being very professional, of course.”

He barked out a laugh and led me down the hallway toward the gym. “Always the professional, Weeze.”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname, per usual, even though I didn’t mind it at all. I’ve been called Elle and Lo over the years by friends, but no one had ever turned Eloise into Weeze, but somehow it was charming, coming from Clark.

He turned on the music, and we made our way through stretches. He was lying on the table on his back as I felt the area around his knee, doing gentle massage with one hand.

“The inflammation is nonexistent at this point,” I said, my voice slightly dry as my free hand grazed his as it rested on the table.

“Yep. Thanks to you.” His pinky finger hooked around mine, and I didn’t pull away.

“You’ve done all the hard work.” I continued tracing my fingers around his knee, even though there was no need to massage the area at this point.

“I think we’ve both worked hard. I mean, you gave up your life in the city to be here with me. And now the real work starts. I’m finally feeling strong, and now I can push to take things to the next level,” he said, his thumb stroking the inside of my palm.

Why wasn’t I pulling away?

We formed a friendship over the last few weeks, and friends could share moments like this, right?

We still kept things very professional.

Outside the almost kiss that we never spoke of, even if I thought about it pretty much every night when I climbed into bed.

“Yep. Today, we start increasing the weights. And I’ll even give you some freedom on the ice to open up when we get out there.” I pulled my hand away and stepped back.

I was playing with fire, and I needed to be smart.

He sat forward. “I like the sound of that.”

“Great. We’re starting with pull-ups.”

“My favorite,” he said, making his way over to the pull-up bar as I followed. “But remember our deal. For every ten reps that I do, you have to do one.”

I groaned. “Why did I ever agree to that deal? You have to do one hundred today, and as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think I can do ten pull-ups.”

“If I can do a hundred, you can do ten, Weeze. I have five sets of twenty, so you can do two at a time in between my sets just like we did before.”

“Fine,” I grumped. “Get going.”

I watched as he tore off his white tee and tossed it on the ground. His basketball shorts hung low on his hips.

Why was it difficult to catch my breath lately when he took his shirt off?

This damn man was occupying every one of my fantasies, even though I desperately wanted to think of anyone but him.

He got through the first set of twenty pull-ups with ease and motioned for me to jump up.

I positioned myself beneath the bar and jumped up, wrapping my hands around the cold metal bar and pulling my chin just above before dropping down. My arms shook as I got through the second one, and then I jumped down. He stood close, which I knew he was doing in case I stumbled on my way down.

He tried to help me the first time we started this ridiculous competition, and I shut him down. I may not be able to do onehundred pull-ups, but I was capable of hoisting myself up and dropping down when I finished.

We did this routine three more times, both guzzling water before the last set. Post Malone was blaring through the speakers, and I hoped it helped to hide the fact that I was completely out of breath. I could hold my own in the pool and on runs with him, but when it came to upper-body strength, I was weak in comparison.

I hated that.

Ten pull-ups were a challenge for me, even with breaks. And at the moment, my arms were burning, and I didn’t think I had two more in me.

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