Page 21 of Falling For You

"Just hear me out." He held his hands up. "Bench press, rep-out. Me and you. Who can put up more."

"Travis, I'm not stupid. I'm not benching the same weight as a guy who hauls hose for a living."

Knox spoke up from the bench. "Calibrate it. Percentage of body weight. That way it's proportional."

Travis lifted an eyebrow.

I sighed. "If I win this, will you leave me alone?"

He grinned wide. "Yeah."

He wasn't going to let this go unless I agreed. "Fine."

They did the math. Seventy-five percent of our body weight. Travis loaded his bar at one-forty-five. I loaded mine at ninety.

Travis went first. Carl stepped behind the bar to spot. Travis gripped the bar, took a breath, and started pressing. His form was solid. I'd give him that. Controlled on the way down, explosive on the way up. The crew counted each rep out loud. By ten, his pace slowed. By twelve, his face was red and his arms were shaking. He ground out thirteen with his jaw clenched, and on fourteen, Carl's hands hovered close before Travis racked it and sat up grinning like he'd just set a world record.

I nodded. "Fourteen. So I do fifteen and you leave me alone?"

Travis spread his arms. "If you can."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. Fourteen reps at one-forty-five was genuinely impressive, especially since he'd been working out for at least half an hour before I showed up. Fresh, he probably would have hit twenty.

My best at ninety was twelve. I had to beat my personal record by three reps. I was already regretting agreeing to this, but I couldn't chicken out. I'd spent enough time in rooms full of men to know you don't give your word and then back out. Not if you want them to take you seriously. And the deal was that if I won, they'd leave me alone. I wanted that more than I wanted to feel my arms tomorrow.

I lay down on the bench. Before I could ask for a spotter, Wyatt was already standing behind me, his hands hovering near the bar.

"I've got you," he said.

I wrapped my fingers around the bar and lifted it off the rack.

The first five reps were clean. Smooth, controlled, easy enough that I let myself think this was going to be simple.

Six through ten got heavier. My arms burned and my breathing changed, shorter and sharper with each press. Wyatt moved closer behind me. I caught his cologne. Citrusy, a little musky, distinctly masculine. He had no business smelling that good in a gym.

Eleven. Twelve. My arms were shaking. The bar slowed at the bottom of the press, hovering an inch above my chest. His fingers drifted closer to the bar.

Thirteen. The bar stalled halfway up. My back arched, my core tightened, and for a second I thought that was it. I could see Travis out of the corner of my eye, arms crossed, already smiling like he'd won.

No. Not a chance.

I wasn't losing to Travis. Not with that look on his face. I locked it out on spite alone.

Fourteen. Tied. The bar barely moved off my chest. Wyatt's hands hovered so close I could feel the warmth of them without the touch.

"You've got this," he said. Quiet. Just for me.

I looked up at him. Everything else fell away. Travis, the crew, the bet. It was just Wyatt's face above mine, steady and sure.

Fifteen. Teeth clenched, every muscle screaming, I pushed until my arms locked out and racked the bar myself.

The crew erupted. Travis had both hands on his head. "Are you kidding me right now?"

I sat up. My arms were trembling and my chest was heaving and I couldn't stop the grin from spreading across my face. Knox walked over and held out his fist. I bumped it. Greene clapped me on the shoulder. Travis pointed at me, shook his head, and went back to his rack still muttering.

Wyatt held out his water bottle. "Nice work, Walsh."

I took a sip. "Thanks for the spot."