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I sip my iced coffee.

Good morning to me.

Roman reaches overhead and grips the cable machine bar. His shirt pulls tight across his back.

I stop walking entirely.

Jesus.

Maybe stalking him was unnecessary. Apparently all I had to do was join a gym.

Roman releases the bar.

Shit. I duck behind a row of ellipticals, nearly spilling my coffee.

I set my coffee on the floor and pretend to tie my shoe when a woman gives me a strange look.

I peer around the machines. Roman grabs some free weights.

Hot damn. That’s one fine-looking man.

I stand, walking the other perimeter of the gym, then slip into the locker room.

I pull off my wig, fluff my curls, then take a long sip of my iced coffee. I toss the wig and my jacket inside the locker, revealing my leggings and sports bra beneath.

After tossing the empty cup in the trash on my way out, I exit the locker room, my eyes searching for Roman.

He’s busy typing something on his phone.

When he grabs the weights and lies on his back, an idea hits.

I hurry over, grab two five-pound weights, and pretend I don’t see him.

As soon as he lowers the dumbbells to his side, I squat down, my ass right over his face.

“Jesus Christ!” he yells, sitting up.

“Oh my God!” I screech at the same time, straightening and whirling around. “I had no idea⁠—”

I blink, pretending to be shocked. “Roman?”

“Chaos. What the fuck are you doing?”

I hold up my dumbbells. “Squats. Obviously.”

He glares at me. “You just sat on my face.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Lie. “I didn’t know you were there.” Another lie.

“Am I supposed to fucking believe that?”

“You swear a lot.” I look around the gym. “And you’re drawing attention to us.”

“I swear to God, Chaos.”

“You shouldn’t swear to him, either.”

“I’ll swear to whoever I want.” He points a dumbbell at me. “And that little stunt⁠—”