Baking Me Crazy (Donner Bakery, #1)(31)

I nodded slowly. It was easy enough for me to read between the lines. Something that made her feel strong. Something that would allow her to push against the barriers that she could flatten, not ones that would make her stagger back.

"I hear you."

Finally, finally, her eyes drifted over to mine. "You do?"

I leaned down and braced my hands on her armrests. Joss held her breath, her gaze flitting down the front of my body.

"Think you can do more pull-ups than me, Abernathy?"

Those eyes narrowed again. But the spark of challenge, oh man, it did beautiful things to her.

"In what world do you think I can't?"

I smirked, straightening to my full height.

"Can't you put a shirt on?" she snapped.

"I am capable of doing so, yes."

Did I move my hands to my hips on purpose?

Yes.

Did I flex my abs to see if she'd so much as move her eyes a single inch?

Hell yes. I wasn't stupid.

But Jocelyn Marie Abernathy was as stubborn as the day was long, so all she did was shake her head.

With a sigh, I dumped the messy blender into the sink and did a quick swipe of the countertops so that my mom wouldn't tan my hide when she got home.

"Good thing I came over."

"Yeah? Why's that?" I tossed the dirty towel into the sink next to the blender.

"Looks like you've been slacking on your abs. You might want to do some crunches while we're in there."

Slowly, I turned my head to glare at her, and she was already backing her chair up with a grin. She pivoted and turned toward the direction of the gym when I took off, grabbing the back of her chair and tipping her backward until her hair was almost touching the ground.

She shrieked, holding tight onto the arms of her chair as I held her captive. Her breaths came in helpless gulps between laughter. "Put me down, asshole."

Because I couldn't help myself, I held her there for another second before she lifted her fist in a warning.

"Not fair," I told her as I set her to rights.

Joss smacked me in the stomach before she pushed forward. "Life isn't fair, Buchanan. Get over it."

I watched her turn the corner before I dropped my face into my hands with a groan.

"Get over it, she says," I muttered.

Yeah, because it was that easy.





Chapter 11





Jocelyn





It didn't take long until I was convinced that somewhere inside my body, a writhing, pulsing mess of hormones had been uncapped. Whatever thing caused a person to start noticing things they'd never noticed before was officially unleashed.

Just as he always did, Levi held my feet steady while I did crunches, then Russian twists until my core muscles were shaking. He used only one hand while the other scrolled through his Instagram feed.

Every time I levered my upper body back up, I caught myself noticing the vein that twisted around the top of his forearm and over the generous curve of his bicep. After the smoothie incident, he'd decided to forgo a shirt, and I felt … weird about it.

Because I didn't usually spend much time cataloging muscles. On anyone.

Levi wasn't covered in bulky, gym rat muscles.

Everything was tight and wiry and densely packed, stretched like a snare drum and as precise as the stick hitting the surface.

And when did his six-pack become so … perfectly defined? Each compact square underneath his skin had neat lines delineating them. There was a V exactly where a V should be on a man.

Because of course there was.

As I grunted through another twist, I damn well knew I didn't have the same cut of muscle on my own midsection. I could probably do a thousand stupid twists every day, and I wouldn't be able to replicate it.

I had abs, faint, toned ones that absolutely no one saw because I wasn't exactly rolling down Main Street in a bikini.

"You should start one of these," he said, giving me quick glance.

"Start one what?"

He turned his phone screen to face me, and I caught a quick glimpse of one of the fitness accounts he followed.

I blew a raspberry as I heaved myself back up and twisted my clasped hands back and forth. "No, thank you."

"Why not? You're like, inspirational and shit."

My back hit the floor with a thud when I started chuckling. "Thanks."

"Done?" he asked.

When I nodded, he let go of my feet and held out his hands. From where I lay on the floor, I stared up at him, breathing heavily for a few seconds. We both knew I didn't need Levi's help to get up. I could turn over onto my hip and hoist myself into my locked chair. I could brace both hands on the armrests and pull myself to standing.

"I've got it," I told him once I caught my breath.

His eyes never strayed from my face as he towered over me. "Okay," he said after a beat. "What's next?"

With one hand hooked under my knees, I turned my legs to the side and sat up. I scooted toward my chair and stared up at it.

It didn't happen often anymore because this had been my reality for so many years, but for a moment, I was swamped with the overwhelming thought that I'd never been able to just … stand easily. I couldn't brace a foot on the ground, push a hand down on my knee, and straighten my body to all five feet ten inches.