Best Man with Benefits (Wedding Dare, #4, McCade Brothers, #3)(26)
Chapter Seven
Sophie focused on her reflection in the big mirror before her. Red-faced, sweaty, panting so hard her lungs might explode any second. Not a pretty sight.
Were all gym designers sadists? Or was there some rule dictating that a huge, unforgiving mirror hang on the wall in front of the treadmills?
Having only herself for scenery always made a workout harder. This morning particularly, she really didn’t need an added challenge. Her body already protested every step of her three-mile run. Several long-ignored muscle groups ached from the workout Logan had given her last night. All the clenching and flexing and straining had left her stomach and thighs sore, and between her legs…goodness…she felt as if the least little touch might send her into a blinding orgasm. Would her hyperactive nerve endings ever calm down?
You should hope not.
The naughty thought brought a smile to her face, but her amusement died away as she remembered how she’d slunk out of Logan’s room in the wee hours of the morning. An old Sophie move through-and-through, but when she’d woken up in the middle of the night, she’d quickly found herself drowning in a sea of doubt about her behavior. Sure? he’d given her the wildest, most amazing, and far most orgasmic night of her life, but the same probably couldn’t be said for him. What if he woke up and stared at her with a mix of disgust and remorse?
Not likely. He didn’t seem the least bit disgusted or remorseful last night.
Okay, no, he hadn’t. He’d seemed pretty down with the whole thing, which made her disappearing act all the more crazy-nuts. If she were honest with herself, she had to admit his possible “morning after” reaction wasn’t what had scared her off. The really scary thing had been her reaction. She wanted more of him. And not just more sex, although she wouldn’t have turned it down. She wanted to…what? Hang out and talk? Be his girlfriend? Be a part of his future?
Those urges had rattled her enough to send her running for the door, because she and Logan lived vastly different lives. They didn’t have a future, and allowing her teenage crush to develop into something a hell of a lot more serious was just plain insane. But now, in the harsh glow of the gym lights, she recognized the fleeing for what it was—cowardice. She’d bolted because her emotions worried her, and she lacked the sophistication of, say, a Regan, who would have the confidence and experience to behave like a normal woman after spending the night with him.
Speak of the devil. Regan glided into the gym, looking beautiful as always. Surprise nearly sent Sophie stumbling off the treadmill. She hadn’t expected to run into anyone else in the gym this early, especially not Regan. Maybe she wasn’t the only one dealing with thoughts so loud they’d chased her from bed at an ungodly hour? Sophie quickly shifted her attention to her treadmill readout, but the other woman waved and stepped onto the machine next to hers. “Hey.”
“Hey, Regan,” she puffed and sent the tall brunette what she suspected was a halfhearted smile. The smile died away as she took a second look. She’d only seen the other bridesmaid in full man-eater mode, with flawless makeup and gleaming, shampoo-commercial hair. This morning she wore no makeup and had her hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. No less beautiful, despite the lack of effort, but the difference was nonetheless startling. This Regan seemed softer, more approachable, and all the more entrancing.
Exactly the kind of woman Logan belongs with. The jealous, insecure thought slithered through the back of her mind. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “You look different.”
Jeez. What a moronic thing to say, as confirmed by Regan’s stunned silence. She turned back to her treadmill. “Sorry. That was rude. Forget I said anything.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just in a weird headspace right now and not exactly fit for polite company.” She rolled her shoulders and punched some keys on the treadmill, quickly increasing the pace to a fast walk. “Besides, I’m not one of those smug bitches who gets done up to head to the gym. If you’re not sweating, you’re doing something wrong.”
The comment made her smile. Who would have guessed she and Regan had anything in common—other than wanting Logan? “I don’t think half the women at my gym got that memo.”
“Mine, either. I can’t figure out whom they’re trying to impress. Most of them have wedding rings.”
She nodded and settled back into her run, relieved she hadn’t put her foot in her mouth too deeply.
“I have a theory,” Regan piped up.
“What’s that?” she replied, a little surprised the woman wanted to chat. With her.
“They’re not trying to impress men—they’re trying to prove they get banging bodies just by showing up. Women like that live on the shame of people around them.”
“That seems kind of harsh.” She’d never really thought about it, probably because she’d been too busy sweating her butt off for every inch of progress she’d made. If she’d been born lucky, would she put on a tiny second-skin of a workout ensemble and go flaunt what nature had so graciously gifted her? No. Not likely.
“It is,” Regan replied unapologetically. Sophie felt more than saw Regan’s assessing look.
“You know, I’d suspected you were hiding a banging body of your own under those artfully baggy clothes. I approve.”