Page 78 of Snatched

I’m not performing.

And somehow?

The guys are hotter.

The conversations easier.

I feel…desirable.

Not because they think so.

BecauseIdo. Maybe it’s just because I’m following through on something a little challenging, that I said I’d do.

Once we reach weeks six and seven, My body starts changing.

Slowly, subtly, and I have to admit—deliciously.

My legs feel stronger when I walk up subway stairs. My coat fits in the shoulders differently. And my waist starts hinting at curves I thought were gone after turning thirty.

But it’s my face that shocks me.

One morning I catch my reflection in the elevator mirror and freeze.

My eyes look brighter, my cheeks are flushed, and my posture is straighter.

I look great.

God, I lookalive.

In week eight, Colt notices.

He doesn’t say it outright. He’s too careful.

But during a hip hinge rep, he pauses a second too long, and tilts his head.

“You’re moving really well,” he murmurs.

I swear he’s talking about more than my hinge.

He starts telling me to go on more dates.

“We’re keeping this professional,” he reminds me. “You should date around.”

“Why?” I ask, half teasing, half wounded.

He shrugs. “You deserve good experiences.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll go out.”

He nods. “Good. Just remember you deserve someone amazing. Don’t lower your standards.”

Still, something in his jaw ticks every time I mention a date.

Week ten hits, and It’s snowing now.

New York winter settles in like a melodramatic roommate. Slushy streets, icy wind tunnels between buildings, Starbucks cups everywhere.

I walk into the gym one late afternoon with snowflakes still caught in my hair. Colt looks up, sees me, and something about his smile makes the cold evaporate.