Page 60 of Recipe for Temptation (Madewood Brothers 4)

Any hope of a future that might have sparked inside him had been extinguished.

So the moment his phone had beeped in his pocket, he knew he sh

ouldn’t have looked. But he had looked, and the image staring back at him was his worst nightmare. Someone had taken a picture of him and Penn dancing on stage. And it had gone viral. Jack had been the bearer of bad news and sent him the link to the Toronto Gossip site where speculation about a so-called relationship between them was the top story.

And wasn’t that just the cherry on top of this disaster of a vacation.

Fuck!

He didn’t need the media nosing around into his past. He didn’t need anyone trying to make him into something he wasn’t. He was no knight in shining armor. He wasn’t going to sweep Penn off her feet and whisk her away to a happily ever after. This picture would only cause him grief at work and in his private life.

So he’d hit the gym. The only space in the world that gave him peace. Until he’d arrived here and realized that Penn had the same effect as the treadmill. She’d given him peace when he’d least expected it.

When he looked up, a movement in the mirror caught his attention.

He took his earbuds out but didn’t stop running. “I can see you in the reflection, Penn.”

“And here I thought I was being all stealth-ninja.” She walked into the gym slowly, carefully, as if walking across a bed of hot coals, with her concentration fixed on him.

She stopped at the back of the treadmill. Her frown was the heaviest he’d ever seen.

Losing the cup was just another on the list of bad things that had happened in his life. He feared that list was going to keep getting longer.

“You’re upset.” It wasn’t a question.

“So what?” His broody emotions had always been the fuel to their love-hate relationship. The two of them were like oil and water. They just didn’t mix, always in a constant battle for the upper hand.

“Talk to me, Cole,” Penn pleaded.

The pain in her voice caused him to stumble on the machine. With a curse, he yanked the safety clip and jerked forward when the treadmill stopped abruptly. Panting heavily, he hung his head, both hands gripping the bars along the sides while he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you upset we didn’t win the cup?”

He lifted his gaze, but not his head, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her shoulders were slumped forward, tears threatening to fall.

With a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she said, “There’s always next year.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Despite being utterly shattered inside, humor seemed to be the only emotion that didn’t break him open in a chasm of hurt.

Did she think this only had to do with the cup?

He finally turned and faced her, and she backed up a few steps when their eyes met. He didn’t mean to scare her. But in the end, that’s all he’d end up doing. He was only capable of making her sad.

“There won’t be a next year. Not for us. This was just…” He picked up the towel that hung across the bar and wiped it across his forehead. “We’re coworkers. Friends. Nothing more.” He hated the sound of his voice. Bitterness mixed with sadness and regret. His killer combination.

“What got you upset? What was in that text?”

“I’m not upset.”

He wasn’t going to lay it on the line for her, but he couldn’t help the twinge of doubt, the one that told him he was no good, the one that confirmed he had no business trying to run a program that was supposed to help people.

“I’m pissed that I let you get me into the one situation I avoid like the plague.”

“What…” She looked utterly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“What happened to your Google alerts?” He jerked his chin. “Check out Toronto Gossip. Looks like the entire world knows we crossed the coworker line.”

She cursed under her breath, but they weren’t as explicit as the ones that had gone through his head when he’d received the text.

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