“I don’t. But I’m not stupid. I know it puts your job at risk. I know my father would lose his mind.” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “And contrary to what you might think, I don’t actually want to ruin your life.”
Relief and an unexpected twinge of disappointment wrestle in my chest. “Agreed.”
“And four…” He hesitates, fingers drumming against his cup. “You start seeing me. The real me. Not just the trust fund brat you think I am.”
“I don’t—”
“Yes, you do. And that’s on me. I’ve played that part for so long, it’s what everyone sees. But I’m more than that. Saturday proved it. You saw something else in me, even if you don’t want to admit it.”
He’s right. In those moments when he was on his knees, looking up at me with clear eyes and a determination I’d never seen from him before, I did see something else. Something raw and real beneath the facade of indifference.
“Okay,” I say finally. “I can do that.”
A smile breaks across his face. Not the cocky smirk I’m used to, but something more genuine. “Great. Now that that’s settled,” he says, taking another sip of coffee, “what’s on the agenda for today? Still avoiding your bodyguard duties, or are you back on the clock?”
“I’m back.” I glance at my watch. “You don’t have classes on Wednesdays, right? What are your plans?”
“I’m going to the gym.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. “You’rewhat?”
“The gym.” He gestures at his clothes. “You know, that place with weights and treadmills where people exercise?”
“I know what a gym is. I just didn’t know you did.”
“Ha ha.” His tone is dry, but there’s amusement in his eyes. “Very funny. I go sometimes.”
“Since when?”
“Since…occasionally.” He shifts his weight, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his posture. “I’m not completely out of shape, you know.”
He’s not. Wyatt’s naturally lean, the kind of build that comes from good genetics and youth rather than hard work.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d come with me.” He pushes off from the counter, taking his mug to the sink. “Not just as my shadow, but to actually work out.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to work out with you?”
“I want you to teach me your routine.” He turns back to face me, arms folded across his chest. “The military stuff. The real deal, not the watered-down crap personal trainers peddle.”
“Why?” I can’t keep the suspicion from my voice. “You can afford any trainer in the city.”
“They’re all frauds.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Instagram models with certificates they bought online. I want something that actually works.”
“And you think my routine would work for you?” I look him up and down, assessing. He’s fit enough, but my regimen would destroy him.
“You’re in incredible shape,” he says, and there’s no flirtation in it, just a simple observation. “Whatever you’re doing clearly works. I want that.”
The compliment catches me off guard. I ignore the warmth it sends through my chest. “My routine is brutal. It’s designed for combat readiness, not aesthetics.”
“Perfect.” He grins. “I’m sick of half-assing everything in my life. I want to try something real for once.”
There’s a sincerity in his voice that I haven’t heard before. Not manipulation, not charm—just honesty.
“Where do you usually work out?” I ask, relenting.
“Apex Performance on Fifth.” He says it casually, like he hasn’t just mentioned the most exclusive gym in Manhattan.
