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That explains the heat in this room.
I’m so hot, I feel like I accidentally stepped into a sauna.
Thereisa sauna, but this room is just the workout areaandit’s air-conditioned. It shouldn’t be so hard to breathe.
Must be the body heat he’s generating.
When I pry my eyes from his distracting body and meet his gaze, I see it’s locked on me, a smirk on his lips as he repeats the smooth movement of lifting himself—this time, aware that he has an audience.
Shit.
I tear my gaze away, pulse pounding, and try like hell to steady the shaking of allmymuscles. I’d like to believe they’re suddenly wobbling on me because I’ve been carrying heavy things all day, but deep down, I know that’s not it.
He makes me nervous.
Ihatethat he makes me nervous, but I guess it would be crazy if he didn’t at this point.
My heart does another somersault when I hear him let go of the bar and drop to the ground.
Panic joins the fray of my muddled emotions and I spin around, trying to find somewhere to drop these boxes so I can get the hell out of here.
“Need help with that?”
I look back at him, my brown eyes wide with surprise. If he didn’t have me so far off my game, I wouldn’t squeak, “Okay,” but… well, here we are.
Okay?That’s not even the right response.
Yes, please.
No, thank you.
You’re offering to help? Are you feeling feverish?
All acceptable responses to his question, and yet I came up withokay.
Ugh.
I’m obviously flustered, so his smirk grows even bigger. He grabs a white towel and slings it around his neck on his way over to me.
I turn and shift my hold on the stack of boxes to make it easier for him to grab, surprised and relieved at the offer of help.
Maybe hewillmake an effort now that we’re here and this is actually happening.
Then he brushes right past me, and the heat in my face rises as my heart drops becauseof course he did.
Still holding the boxes and now fuming that I fell for such an obvious taunt, I feel my wits starting to reorganize themselves. The surge of emotion settles down and the fear goes with it so I can think straight.
Yeah, that was rude, but it’s Landon Atwater—am I really surprised?
I just need to put the boxes down and leave. There’s no reason for this to be a whole event.
Mom and Hayden can figure out where all this crap goes later. I find an empty corner to drop the boxes in, then I straighten, settling my hands on my hips and stretching my back.
God, moving sucks.
It would have sucked less if Mom would have let Hayden hire movers to handle everything like he offered to, but she said she doesn’t trust them and she’d rather we move our things in ourselves.
I don’t lift heavy things for fun, so this could not be less my thing.
