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Everyone watched Shelly at the gym. She worked out the same way she did everything else—with the utmost concentration. She ran on the treadmill until she’d built up a heavy sweat, and then she went from machine to machine, working her thighs, her abs, her arms, and everything in between.
She had men coming to offer to help her, or to spot for her, every few minutes. “No, thank you,” she said. She didn’t say anything more. Just “no, thank you.” They walked away dejected and deflated.
I threw a towel at her and she caught it in her fist. “You don’t even see it, do you?” I asked. I shook my head and bit back a smile.
“See what?” she asked as she wiped her face. She was a sweaty mess. Her hair hung in damp hunks around her forehead, her cheeks were flushed, her skin was blotchy, and I’d never seen her look more beautiful. Apparently, everything she did was beautiful. Even sweating. I was done for. Gone. I’d heard tales of men who became fools over the right woman. But I’d never done it, not even with Marley.
“Men love you. Hell, a couple of women, too.”
“Men do not love me. They want to fuck me.” She wiped her arms down as we stopped to fill bottles with water and drink.
“What’s the difference?”
“Men don’t want a woman like me.”
I stopped guzzling my water and stared at her over the rim of the bottle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Most of the men I’ve met don’t know what to do with someone like me. I’m opinionated, short-tempered, I have no filter, and I end up intimidating the hell out of them. They give up and I never hear from them again.” She shrugged like it was no big deal.
“And when they’re gone, have you ever missed any of them?”
Her brow furrowed. “Why would I?”
“Companionship. Fun times. You never wanted to share that with anyone?”
“No,” she said succinctly.
“And now?”
“Are you itching for a compliment, William Clark?” She grinned at me.
I shrugged. “Maybe a little reassurance.” Maybe I needed a little.
“I have never been in a relationship. I have never wanted to be in one. I don’t even know what being in a relationship means. But this thing we’re doing…” She motioned from me to herself and back to me again. “I like it. I like what we’re doing. Do we have to define it?”
“We don’t have to define anything.”
She lifted her wrist in the air. “I love my bracelet.” She smiled at me.
I grinned. “I’m glad.”
“So, is that enough?” she asked.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her slowly toward me until our bodies touched. “One day, when you’re ready, I’d like a bracelet, too.” She went completely still as she tried to figure out what I meant. I knew when she understood, because she went soft against me.
“Okay,” she whispered, and then she stepped onto her tiptoes and kissed me, and I could have sworn that half the men in the gym groaned in frustration as she did it.
I wanted to yell out, “This one is mine, bitches!” But I still wasn’t sure if that was true. I wasn’t sure at all.
Chapter 35
Clark
Every time I walked by Shelly at work, she blushed furiously, and it was an amazing sight to watch. Shelly discombobulated was a sight to behold. She was always so put-together, so in control. And even now, I knew she was in control of herself, but she was also at a loss about what we’d done this morning.
“We probably need to have a talk,” I said loudly as I walked from my office into hers. She turned to face me, her brows knitting. She had lift
ed her hair into one of those weird ponytails and secured it with a pencil.
