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“My family buys everything they sell, so I have a drawer full of these. They’re a good company. Founded by veterans and do a lot to support veterans,” I explain, but he’s still staring at me like I have more to share about this damn shirt. I suppose I do, and something tells me if Gage expects you to talk, you talk. So I do, even though it’s one of those topics that serves as both a source of pride and torment in the Carver clan. “My uncle was in the Air Force. Died in combat. My grandfather served too.”
He sets his weights down, tromps over to the corner table, plucks his water bottle off it, and holds it up in the air. The company’s logo is stamped on the Rambler. His face softens with what looks to be respect. It seems I’ve inadvertently bonded with Gage over merch.
“Nice.” I force an awkward smile, wondering when it would be an acceptable time to shove these earbuds in and lose myself to another era. I’d be willing to bet that’s the extent of our commonality. Sizing up your opponent and quitting when you’re ahead is always a strong bet. So, I break into a faster-paced jog, hoping to convey the serious-exercise mode I’m entering.
But he moseys closer, sweat raining down his temples and still clutching his water bottle. “Didn’t know you liked working out.”
“I don’t,” I confess on a puffed breath.
He quirks a doubtful brow. “Okay.”
Shoving my AirPods case back in the pocket of my yoga pants, I surrender. It appears we’re going to invest in some awkward conversation, making the five miles I hoped to cover during an episode feel like a slow-death trek to five hundred. “If I don’t work out, I’ll quickly morph into a frumpy, unhealthy blob.” Sad, but true. “Blessed with curves has its drawbacks.”
As though I’ve said something profound, he bobs his head slowly while humming in thought. “I get that. For me, it’s all about the competitive edge.”
“Right. Makes sense,” I pant.
He must be in constant competition with the guys. I’m sure it makes them all stronger.
A sigh breezes out of him, as if he’s accepting defeat. He’s always so gruff and serious. Maybe he didn’t fare well the last time they competed. He’s built different than the others, probably more robust but slower.
“If I don’t work out”—he frowns—“the two tons of carbs and sugar I consume weekly would win. And we can’t have that.”
I bark a laugh, bracing my feet outside of the belt so I don’t fall flat on my face. “Good theory and good timing. I didn’t see that coming.”
He smiles, and something about it reminds me of my conversation with Wells in the library. Gage is trying here. “What were you going to watch?” he asks.
“Bridgerton, but I’ll catch up later.”
The perplexed look on his face is unsurprising. I launch into a brief explanation of the sultry nature surrounding the gravity of social hierarchy while seeking love and lust, and Gage’s forehead wrinkles. It’s not the kind of show I’d expect him to watch, so his suggestion floors me.
“Let’s play it on the TV for the rest of our workout.”
For the next two hours, we’re both glued to the wide-screen drama through cardio and weight training. I start him off easy at the beginning of season one. He spots and pushes me until I collapse on the wood floor to watch the end of episode two. Entertained by my floundering limbs, he chuckles but joins me, insisting I drink more water.
The whole exchange is unexpected, as is his comment when I bid him farewell.
“Don’t watch any more. We’ll keep going tomorrow. I think I can manage the same time.”
“Sounds good.” I smile, genuinely looking forward to a repeat of our time, and head back to my room for a shower.
Ivy told me that getting Gage to like her was one of her most gratifying endeavors. He adores her now, which means everything to her. I can see that. He’s so standoffish that a little acceptance feels like a gold-star endorsement.
I’m nearly to my room when my spine prickles, seconds before the smooth voice with the hint of bone-itching rasp that flutters my chest reaches my ears.
“Where ya been, Carver?”
Never let them see.
I slow my breathing and spin a half turn to find Liam lurking in the perpendicular hallway. “Working out with Gage.”
His eyebrows dart up, and he hikes a thumb toward the gym. “You worked out with the Big Guy?”
Those ever-changing hazels scan over me, parking on my bare stomach. I forgot I’d tied my shirt in a knot. I’m so worn out that I probably look like a drowned rat. Although he doesn’t seem to be bothered.
“Yeah.” I exhale a heavy breath. “I’m really exhausted actually, so I’m going to shower and lie down before we go. Still taking me?”
Liam’s you’re mine tomorrow comment didn’t shock me yesterday because Ty had already warned me. The rest of that encounter, however, left me wet, eager, and yearning for things I have no business thinking about. This shouldn’t happen, no matter how electrifying it would be.
