What she didn’t know was why the bass line of a heavy rock song was keeping time with the pulse of her headache and playing loudly enough to rattle the screws in their new furniture loose.
“Chuck?” she called to absolutely no avail. He could have been sitting right next to her and unable to hear in the racket.
Having a sneaking suspicion that she knew what was going on, she threw back the blankets and headed for the north wing of the house with her phone in her hand.
“Chuck!” she shouted. The music got louder as she headed into the hall. She swore the art on the walls was seconds from slipping off its hooks and hitting the floor. She wondered what kind of insuranceName Your Pricehad and what would happen if they broke something.
As she approached the door to the house’s gym, she figured out what was going on. At six thirty a.m. on a Friday—she’d checked the time on her phone clutched in her hand—she knew right where he’d be. It was Arm Day. Or Leg Day. Or whatever Body Part Day required a grueling sunrise workout. The only thing he got up early for was a workout, and she knew she’d find him in the gym.
She nearly kicked down the door when she got there, but instead of screaming at him toUSE YOUR HEADPHONES, she froze and was instantly stripped of all higher intelligence.
He was shirtless with his back to her and mid pull-up on the squat rack. It was one of those pull-ups with a wide grip that put enough muscles in his arms and back on display to count. (Eighteen. There were eighteen.) Just as slowly and deliberately as he’d pulled himself up, he lowered himself back down and then did it again. His ankles were crossed, and his feet in sneakers bent up behind him. His shorts clung to his hips, and other than that, he was just miles of skin. Sweaty, tanned skin rippled with muscles bulging and sliding against each other in a way that made her do an about-face and throw herself against the wall outside the room before he even noticed she was there.
Knowing what had to be done, she frantically thumbed her phone while her heart pounded. She’d begun to sweat and hadto douse the flames before they burst into something uncontrollable.
Yellow bikini!!!!!she desperately texted Mansi.
Mansi’s return text came almost immediately, and Olivia imagined her friend pausing her own early-morning workout to come to her aid.
Why? What’s he doing?
Mansi! You said no questions asked! YELLOW BIKINI.
Sorry! Stand by.
Olivia chewed her lip and fought for deep breaths as she waited. The music pounded on from the other side of the wall. She wondered if Chuck had even realized she’d opened the door.
Her phone vibrated in her clutched hands. She looked down to see a photo of a corgi puppy in a wagon with pumpkins.
All her speeding blood rerouted to her heart, and anawwescaped her mouth.
A second photo came in of a golden retriever puppy in a field of daisies.
Better?Mansi texted.
Olivia made an involuntary pouty face at the adorable dogs and quietly cooed.
Yes. Thank you. But now I want a puppy.
She got a kiss emoji in return as a sign-off.
Her phone nearly slipped out of her hands when Chuck appeared in the doorway and startled her so much that she yelped in surprise. She hadn’t heard him coming thanks to the music leaking out of the room at nightclub decibels.
“Liv? Are you out here?”
“Jeez, Chuck! You scared me!” she shouted over the noise.
He absolutelytoweredover her where she stood barefoot in her pajamas. His size would have been intimidating, especially given all the freshly pumped muscles, if the sight didn’t make her want to climb him like a tree.
She took a deliberate and large step back.
“Sorry!” he called as his eyes went on a quick but conspicuous tour of her body. They lingered on her chest for a hot second before snapping up to her eyes.
At the sight of him, it was like their fight last night hadn’t even happened. The urge to fling herself at him pulsed in her blood, despite theyellow bikinitexts, and the air between them strained with a familiar angst that would soothe the immediate ache but only lead to more trouble.
Her tongue was thick and heavy and her heart was still beating hard, but she managed to wrangle both enough to form coherent speech. “Music is a little loud, don’t you think?” she shouted with a hand on her hip.
Chuck seemed to notice the noise rattling the walls only then. “Huh. Yeah, sorry. I thought closing the door would help. I guess the sound system is really high quality here.”