Baking Me Crazy (Donner Bakery, #1)(27)

He nodded like he expected my answer. Just as he had the last time, he snagged a stool and sat on it. Now he was eye level with me, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from the veins mapping the top of his hands and arms.

Very nice vein action.

"What'd you like to do before you got sick?" he asked.

"Walk," I said dryly, which made him laugh. Then I groaned. "You probably want a real answer, huh?"

"That's a real answer, but yes."

"I was a runner. A basketball player. Volleyball in the summers. I didn't spend much time just sitting around, that's for sure." I waved a hand over my legs. "So this was an interesting transition to get used to."

He looked pointedly at my arms. "It's obvious you still don't like to just sit around."

"No," I said feelingly. "I don't."

Andrew crossed one of his legs over the other and pinned me with a serious look. "So tell me why you're not taking care of your legs too. You clearly spend time in the gym."

Okay. These weren't date feelings. These were 'how 'bout you stop interrogating me' feelings. Suddenly, I missed Denise.

No, that was a lie.

I heard Levi's voice in my head, saying I needed someone to push me. And I thought of the times over the past few months when he'd asked if I wanted to go with him to the gym, and I'd said no.

Trying to think about how to answer him in a way that made sense, I shook my head for a moment. "I'm a bit of a perfectionist," I started. "And I'll never walk smoothly again. I will always look clumsy when I do it. A little ungainly. Everyone around me will hold their breath because they'll be afraid that one wrong foot placement will have me down on the pavement. I hate that feeling. I've gotten used to the way people look at me while I'm in this chair." I shook my head and swallowed audibly. "And that was hard enough. This feels like a much bigger mountain to climb, for some reason."

It was the most honest I'd been with anyone about this outside of Levi. Andrew leaned forward and held my eyes. "You aren't wrong about any of that, Jocelyn. They will watch you that way because they love you, not because they don't believe in your ability to do it."

I blinked away, staring at the ramp like it had morphed into every symbolic thing I hated about this situation.

"Come on," he said, standing from the stool. "Let's go climb up that mountain. Literally."

"What do you mean?" I followed him over, locking my chair into place when he stopped at the base of the ramp.

"You're going to crawl up this ramp."

I huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "Oh goody, for a second I thought you'd really make me embarrass myself."

He smiled. "Come on. Up you go, Abernathy."

And that asshole really did make me crawl.

Underneath the patient instructions, calm encouragement, and educational pedigree that assured me he knew what he was doing, Andrew had my legs absolutely burning with the effort it took to stay balanced. I'd go up the ramp an inch at a time, my progress slow and frustrating. And that was nothing compared to when I had to go backward.

Occasionally, he'd lay a hand on my back or hip to move one of my legs with a gentle correction and suggestion of how to position my body. Every time he did it, I felt the spread of his fingers over my skin and breathed a little faster.

They weren't sexual touches. He never lingered. The touches were brief, they had a purpose, and I wanted to cry at how they made me feel.

It was embarrassing enough to have to literally crawl on my hands and knees in front of this person, but every time he touched me, I desperately wished I could transform those touches into something else. Something more.

I got to the bottom of the ramp, sweat pooling underneath my shirt and the backs of my legs quivering from the effort of what I was doing, when he asked me to lift my right arm.

"There you go, straight out from the shoulder." He set his hand over my shoulder, and I closed my eyes.

His hands felt all wrong.

This wasn't how I imagined it, and I wanted it to feel how I imagined it. I wanted strong touches, fingers brushing over my skin with a different purpose in a way that lingered and luxuriated. No one had ever luxuriated over anything of mine.

"Come on, keep your focus," he said, taking his hand off my shoulder when I wobbled.

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled. "You're not on all fours like a freaking dog."

He chuckled. "Okay, drop your hand. I'll help you over."

Once I'd braced my hand on the ramp again, I hung my head and took a few deep breaths. "I hate this ramp."

"Most people do," he agreed easily. "But it'll get easier if you start doing more leg exercises like leg presses and hamstring curls. There are so many things you can do at the gym, Joss."

I glanced over at him. "I know."

"Then why aren't you doing them?"

His question held no censure. Not an ounce of accusation. Hidden beneath the layers of professional curiosity, I heard the steel behind it.

"You sound like my best friend," I gave, instead of an answer. "He always wants me to work out with him."

Andrew nodded. "You should." He lifted an eyebrow. "And not just your upper body. Pretty sure you could take me in an arm wrestling match."