Page 25 of Snatched
“Form check.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It absolutely is.”
She glances sideways, breath steady. “You want to stare at me while I run.”
“I want to, uh, evaluate your stride.”
She lifts a brow. “Uh-huh.”
I stare straight ahead. “Keep your shoulders relaxed.”
“Theyarerelaxed.”
“No, they’re tense.”
“Maybe they’re tense because a tall floor lamp is judging me.”
I cough. “Okay—can you not?”
She grins. “No flirting. Promise.”
“That was flirting.”
“That was honesty. There’s a difference.”
I shake my head. “Focus on your breathing.”
“Alright.” After a few moments, she says, between breaths, “So where are you from, anyway?”
“From a small town in Montana, actually.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “For real. ”
“Well you do have cowboy vibes.”
“What about you? Where are you from?”
“From Poughkeepsie. Went to college in Boston, but other than that, I’ve always lived in New York City.”
I nod, and accidentally hit the top-speed button and nearly launch myself into next week.
She notices, and starts laughing.
“Wow,” she says sympathetically. “This is going so well for you.”
I mutter under my breath, “I hate this treadmill.”
She laughs again. The sound of her voice is bright, warm, and way too cute. I lose half my professionalism right there.
After five minutes, I stop both machines and say, “You’re warm. Time for strength training. Let’s go.”
She hops off easily. I pretend I didn’t almost fall.
Done with the warmup, we move to the dumbbells.
