Page 22 of Snatched
Audibly.
“Hey.”
My voice cracks like I’m thirteen.
Great start, Evans.Extremely professional.
From the desk, Damien is giving me the kind of side-eye usually reserved for criminals and people who cut in line at Trader Joe’s.
I straighten my shirt, clear my throat. “Is everything okay?” she asks, stepping closer.
“Oh—yeah. Totally.”
Professional. Say the thing.
I gesture vaguely, like I’ve forgotten how arms work.
“So, um, before we start, I wanted to—uh—talk for a sec.”
She tilts her head. “About what?”
I inhale.
“Just…we need to keep things…professional.”
Her eyebrows shoot up.
“Professional?”
“Yeah. You know. Boundaries. Protocols. Gym environment. Corporate standards. And?—”
She cuts in, deadpan: “Look. Can you be honest for a sec?”
“Of course.”
“Do you have a girlfriend or something? A wife?” I notice her eyes narrowing toward my left hand.
I bark-laugh. Loud. Way too loud. Damien flinches behind the desk like I startled him.
“Sorry—no.” I shake my head. “Bone dry right now. My sex life is like the Sahara Desert.”
“Oh.”
“My last ex traumatized me.”
Her eyes widen. “Mine too.”
Obviously,I think, but manage not to say out loud.If you were mine, forget foreplay. You’d be riding my face on the nightly.
We stare at each other for half a second too long.
I clear my throat again. “Anyway. This is a gym. We’re professionals here. So, uh…no flirting.”
She follows my gaze to Damien, who suddenly becomes VERY invested in organizing the towel display and keeping us in his peripheral vision.
“No flirting,” she repeats seriously. “Absolutely not. I would never. I wouldn’t dream of getting you in trouble,Football Boy.”
I choke.
