Kiss and Don't Tell(42)
“Oh yeah, that’s probably smart. Not sure I would be much help in the spotting department.”
“You’re good in other ways.”
“Oh yeah, how’s that?”
He smacks my bench with his hand, and I lie down while he grabs another straight bar. He comes over to me, hands it off, and then squats so he’s more level with my body. “Well, one thing’s for sure—you provide me an amazing view.”
I glance down and notice my cleavage is on fire. Yup, that’s a view, all right.
I chuckle and bring the weight down to my chest and back up. “Are you telling me Eli and Silas don’t provide you the same kind of cleavage shot?”
“They refuse to take their shirts off for me. Prudes.”
“Shame,” I say as I count out ten reps. When I’m done, he takes the weight from me and puts it back on the rack with the others.
“You’re killing it. Think we can get to the bar on the next one?”
I wiggle my arms. “Totally. I think there’s more juice in these girls.”
“That’s the kind of attitude I like.”
We do two more rounds and I max out at fifty pounds. Pacey gets super excited for me and offers a hug, which I gladly take, but I also know in the back of my head that Pacey benches my measly fifty with two hundred on top of that. I can’t even imagine. He stopped at two hundred and said it felt good to have some easy reps.
Easy . . . sheesh.
“Have you done squats with a bar before?” he asks me.
“Yes. A while back, my friend Max decided to take me to the gym and forced me to do squats with the bar. I know I can handle that weight.”
“You should be able to. We can always squat more than we can bench. But to be safe, let’s start with the bar and move up from there.” He reaches for a foam cylinder, which he slots over the bar. He explains, “For your shoulders.”
I squat under the bar and get in position. I grab the bar with one hand on either side and then lift the weight off the rack.
“You good?” Pacey asks as he stands closely behind me, his hands close to the bar in case I need help.
“Yeah, it feels good.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t back off, though, he stays close, and as I squat, he squats closely behind me. The attention he’s giving me, the protection, actually makes me feel incredibly safe.
He makes me feel taken care of, and that’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m the one who’s the caregiver; I look out for my loved ones and for myself. No one looks out for me. Well, except for one exceptionally wonderful, psychotic friend. And Max.
But Pacey just stepped right in and took that role, without even blinking, without knowing much about me. It seems to be just who he is, his personality—honorable.
I finish up my squats and then set the weight back on the rack. When I duck out from under it,
Pacey grips the bar and leans forward. “How did that feel?”
Like I’m a Ninja.
“It felt good,” I say. I’m so not a Ninja. But the smile I get from that answer is worth being up this early, especially after I spent all night thinking about him and how I felt so . . . connected to him. He’s so freaking adorable.
“Think we can add some weights next round?”
“For sure.”
He goes to the other squat rack, adds some large, round weights, and then with ease—and without the foam padding—he lifts the bar and counts out his squats.
Ooh, look at those legs and that ass. No wonder it’s so nice and round, popping out those athletic shorts of his. It’s from hours in the gym doing exactly this.
When he sets the weight on the rack, I say, “You get down pretty far.”
“Years of stretching and making sure I’m as flexible as can be.”
“Wait, you’re a goalie, which means . . . can you do the splits?”
He moves over to my rack and puts fives on each side. “What do you think?”
“Uhh, I’m thinking you can.”
“Maybe if you tell me a little something about yourself, I’ll show you.”
“Seriously?” I feel as though my eyes nearly pop out of my sockets. “What do you want to know?”
He taps the bar and I get into position.
“Right now? The basics—why you’re here, the real reason. What you do. Maybe a last name.”
“That’s quite a list.” I start squatting, and even though the weight is heavier, I can still handle it.
“Just like that?” Pacey says, coming up behind me again, but this time his hands connect with my sides as I squat. When I put the weight back, he says, “I’m not sure which I like better.” He scratches the side of his jaw.
“What do you mean?”
“Do I like watching you bench or squat more? The view on the bench is hard to beat, but having you stick your ass out so close is nice too.”
I push my hand against his chest. “Don’t be a perv in the gym. Let a girl work out in peace.”
He captures my hand in his and pulls me close so the bar is the only thing between us. “I wasn’t prepared to be working out with you this morning, so give me a break. It’s new. It’s exciting. It’s better than watching Taters strut around the gym, chest puffed out like a moron.”