And as I headed up the stairs to the door that led into the living area, I couldn’t stop smiling about how good tonight had been.
17
NORA
I showedup at Theo’s house the next morning expecting the usual scene.
Theo with his suit jacket already on.
Travel mug in hand.
Keys jingling as he apologized for rushing out the door.
But instead of finding him ready to rush out for work, he opened the door wearing black gym shorts and a gray tank top.
A tank top that put his biceps on full display. Not just his biceps either, since the fabric dipped low enough at the sides that I was also blessed with an unexpected glimpse of his chest.
And the defined lines along his ribs.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“Oh,” I said intelligently.
“Sorry.” He glanced down at himself and grimaced. “This isn’t usually how I answer the door, is it?”
“Oh, don’t be sorry,” I blurted, before realizing thatsoundedwaytoo enthusiastic. “I mean—no worries. I just assumed you’d be halfway out the door like usual.”
“I probably should be.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I slept past my alarm and got a late start today.”
Did he usually wake up early enough to exercise, shower, and still be ready to leave by six? Because if so, I guess that explained how he stayed ripped while juggling a legal career and single parenthood.
“I see you didn’t want to skip your workout,” I commented, stepping inside.
He shook his head. “I can’t really afford to do that.”
“Afraid your muscles will shrink if you take a day off?” I teased, then immediately slapped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t say things like that to my boss.”
“You’re fine.” He laughed. “Just because you watch my daughter now doesn’t mean we can’t still joke around. We’re allowed to be friends.”
“Okay, good.” I sighed, not realizing until that moment how much of a relief that was.
“But no,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him down the hallway toward the stairs, “I try to stick to my workout routine whenever I can. I really can’t skip them if I want any chance at keeping my mental health in check.”
“That’s actually impressive,” I said as I followed him downstairs. “I’ve definitely fallen off the bandwagon way harder than I expected since gymnastics season ended.”
“You and Lucy don’t work out together anymore?” He glanced over his shoulder at me.
“Not lately,” I said with a shrug. “She’s been doing weekend workouts with Owen and filling in the gaps at the camp gym, I think.”
“Oh.” He nodded, then led me into a room I hadn’t been in yet at the bottom of the stairs. “Well, if you ever feel like doingsomething while you’re here waiting for Charlotte to wake up,” he said as he gestured at one of the nicest home gyms I’d ever seen, “feel free to use this room.”
“Really?” I asked, eyes scanning the setup. There were free weights. Racks. A bench. Resistance bands. A stair-stepping machine and a treadmill.
“Someone else might as well put this stuff to use,” he said, picking up a pair of dumbbells and curling them like it was nothing. “Or,” he added, glancing over at me mid-rep, “you could even come earlier sometime and give me pointers. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of tips with your degree and all that experience.”