The Love at First Sight Box Set

by Romance, Smartypants

  I blinked away, staring at the ramp like it had morphed into every symbolic thing I hated about this situation.

  "Come on," he said, standing from the stool. "Let's go climb up that mountain. Literally."

  "What do you mean?" I followed him over, locking my chair into place when he stopped at the base of the ramp.

  "You're going to crawl up this ramp."

  I huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "Oh goody, for a second I thought you'd really make me embarrass myself."

  He smiled. "Come on. Up you go, Abernathy."

  And that asshole really did make me crawl.

  Underneath the patient instructions, calm encouragement, and educational pedigree that assured me he knew what he was doing, Andrew had my legs absolutely burning with the effort it took to stay balanced. I'd go up the ramp an inch at a time, my progress slow and frustrating. And that was nothing compared to when I had to go backward.

  Occasionally, he'd lay a hand on my back or hip to move one of my legs with a gentle correction and suggestion of how to position my body. Every time he did it, I felt the spread of his fingers over my skin and breathed a little faster.

  They weren't sexual touches. He never lingered. The touches were brief, they had a purpose, and I wanted to cry at how they made me feel.

  It was embarrassing enough to have to literally crawl on my hands and knees in front of this person, but every time he touched me, I desperately wished I could transform those touches into something else. Something more.

  I got to the bottom of the ramp, sweat pooling underneath my shirt and the backs of my legs quivering from the effort of what I was doing, when he asked me to lift my right arm.

  "There you go, straight out from the shoulder." He set his hand over my shoulder, and I closed my eyes.

  His hands felt all wrong.

  This wasn't how I imagined it, and I wanted it to feel how I imagined it. I wanted strong touches, fingers brushing over my skin with a different purpose in a way that lingered and luxuriated. No one had ever luxuriated over anything of mine.

  "Come on, keep your focus," he said, taking his hand off my shoulder when I wobbled.

  "Easy for you to say," I mumbled. "You're not on all fours like a freaking dog."

  He chuckled. "Okay, drop your hand. I'll help you over."

  Once I'd braced my hand on the ramp again, I hung my head and took a few deep breaths. "I hate this ramp."

  "Most people do," he agreed easily. "But it'll get easier if you start doing more leg exercises like leg presses and hamstring curls. There are so many things you can do at the gym, Joss."

  I glanced over at him. "I know."

  "Then why aren't you doing them?"

  His question held no censure. Not an ounce of accusation. Hidden beneath the layers of professional curiosity, I heard the steel behind it.

  "You sound like my best friend," I gave, instead of an answer. "He always wants me to work out with him."

  Andrew nodded. "You should." He lifted an eyebrow. "And not just your upper body. Pretty sure you could take me in an arm wrestling match."

  I laughed because his arms were about three times the size of mine, so we both knew the likelihood of that happening was slim.

  "I'm serious, Jocelyn. If your friends want to help, you should let them."

  With a smile, I gave him a tiny salute. "Yes, sir."

  He held out a hand, and I took it so I could lower myself more easily onto one hip. Once I was sitting, he moved back, and I turned my legs so that my knees were up. My feet, clad in my bright white Adidas sneakers, stared uselessly back up at me.

  "My shoes always stay perfectly clean," I said without even realizing the thought had popped in my head.

  "I'm sure they do." He leaned down to grab an exercise band, which I curled my lip at. I hated those things too. "I had a client last year, eighty years old, and she refused to wear anything but high heels except for her PT visits, because why wouldn't she? She didn't have to worry about falling over since she couldn't actually walk in them."

  I laughed. "Good point. I still go for sneakers because that's all I wore. Before," I added needlessly.

  "Nothing wrong with that." He twirled the band in a circle. "Come on, I'll let you off the hook early. You did good work today."

  Exhaling heavily, I smiled before using the bars installed on either side of the ramp to hoist myself up. Thankfully, my chair was close because holy shit, my legs were sore.

  "I hate to say this, Andrew, but I will probably wake up tomorrow cursing your name."

  His laughter echoed through the empty office. "I can accept that."

  I wheeled myself back out to the car with plans to be back the next week at the same time. With the chair tossed in the back, it took all my strength to focus on taking strong, even steps back to my seat after the work I'd done on that evil effing ramp. Despite that, despite the labor I'd done, I sat in the driver's seat and stared out the windshield, a current still humming unchecked under my skin.

  Unspent energy that had nothing to do with the physical efforts he'd just put me through, and it needed to go somewhere.

  I dug my phone out of my backpack and pulled up Levi's number, tapping out a quick text before I started my car. Maybe I wasn't supposed to just work my upper body, but I wanted something that made me feel strong. Something that I control and master and dominate.

  Me: Meet me at the gym in 30 minutes?

  He answered immediately.

  Levi: The actual gym or the house?

  I dropped my head and considered the options. The Buchanans had a pretty epic home gym, and since it would just be just Levi and me, there would be no watching eyes and no judgment. But no smoothies either, I thought with a pout.

  Sighing, I knew which one would win.

  Me: The house. But you owe me a smoothie since your commute is a thirty second walk.

  Levi: Your wish is my command.

  After I finished picking out the perfect eye roll GIF, I threw the car into reverse and started in the direction of Green Valley.

  Chapter 10

  Levi

  “Idiot, idiot, idiot," I whispered under my breath, though the sound of the blender drowned it out. As soon as I got her text, I almost fell over as I stripped out of my regular clothes and into mesh shorts. For a ridiculous amount of time, I stood in front of the drawer that held all my gym shirts, most with the sleeves long ago ripped off.

  Without fail, I wore one of those shirts when working out.

  Would she notice if I didn't? It wasn't as if we were at the actual gym, where I'd look like a giant douchebag for strutting around in only shorts. Yeah, I worked my ass off on my body, and I was proud of it, not just as a by-product of an education built around studying the muscles and ligaments and pieces that crafted the body into a flawless working machine, but because working out was an excellent outlet for unspent sexual frustration.

  Just once, I wanted to know what would happen if she came through the door and saw me like this. If her eyes lingered on me the way I tried to keep mine from lingering on her.

  When she wasn't looking, I'd study the curve of her neck and the slope of her shoulder. The way she danced in her chair when the music was on and she thought no one was looking. The graceful length of her fingers, and the shift of muscles in her arms when she moved.

  There were so many small, seemingly insignificant parts of Jocelyn that I had memorized. She'd spent all morning with PT guy. Did he see the same things? Did she?

  Was she looking at his neck and hands and arms and the way he smiled in the same way I looked at her?

  My hands tightened on the lid of the blender when I thought about it.

  I was shaking the appliance a bit too hard after it stuttered on a chunk of ice when she came up behind me, pinching my side.

  "Son of a bitch," I yelled, jumping backward and yanking the top off the blender as I did. Blueberry-banana shake exploded everywhere.

  Joss was bent at the waist, laughing as
I punched the button to turn off the blender. Her peals of laughter might have been more infectious had my face not been coated in cold-ass purple liquid.

  "Oh my gosh, Levi." She giggled, wiping a tiny speck off her cheek. "You should see yourself right now."

  The only other place she had a spot was on her arm, which she lifted and licked off. My eyes narrowed at the flash of her pink tongue.

  The cold liquid dripped down the front of my chest, and I swiped at it with a towel, glaring about as effectively as I could when my face was covered in goop. "You think this is funny?"

  In answer, she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. "There. My new lock screen."

  Slowly, methodically, I mopped up as much as I could with the dish towel, then turned to her with a grin. "Is that so?"

  She lowered her phone. "Don't you dare."

  "What?" I asked, eyes wide. "This is your smoothie. I'd hate to keep it from you."

  Joss started pushing her chair backward. "Levi Robert Buchanan," she warned as I advanced on her.

  The speed with which she was able to pivot her chair always impressed me, but I was also ready for it. I leaped forward as she made the corner around the island and grabbed the back of her chair with one hand, which made her squeal.

  Hunching over her for maximum surface coverage, I wiped the towel across her face and neck.

  When her face was just as blueberry-banana soaked as mine, and I was laughing as breathlessly as she was, I finally took pity on her and straightened.

  Joss turned her chair, wrapping one arm around her waist like she'd be able to contain the graceless sounds coming out of her mouth.

  I never wanted them to stop.

  With a smile so wide and bright, I couldn't even be sad about how she'd pinched her eyes shut and hid that perfect shade of blue from my view.

  "It's so cold," she shrieked. Wiping at her cheeks, she only succeeded in spreading it farther up her face and into her pulled-back hair.

  When I could breathe a bit more easily, I yanked off some paper towel, ran it under the faucet to get it wet and then crouched in front of her.

  As I carefully wiped off her face, she was still grinning, but I felt my smile melt away.

  There were so few opportunities for me to touch her like this. My thumb tilted her chin to the side so I could wipe off her cheek, the bottom curve of her delicate jawline. Underneath that one finger, her skin was soft and warm.

  The tips of her lashes had purple on them.

  "Close your eyes," I told her.

  She complied, a smile still curling her lips. It was a full three seconds before I could move to do anything. I wanted to lean forward and capture those lips with mine, see if they were cold and sticky and sweet. I wanted her hands to dig into my hair and grab hold, her eyes to meet mine and flash with heat before I slid my tongue against hers and found out what her mouth tasted like.

  I took a deep breath and wiped the damp paper towel over her closed eyelids to clean them off as gently I could with slightly shaking hands.

  "By all means," she muttered, "take your time. I love having a smoothie facial."

  Just because it would piss her off, and because I had no foolish intentions of wasting this opportunity, I slowed my movements even further, dragging the towel down the straight, proud line of her nose and over the arch of her cheekbone.

  Some remained along the edge of her mouth, and I stared at it for three awkward chugs of my heart.

  Buh—duh-boom.

  Buh—duh-boom.

  Buh—duh-boom.

  Lowering the hand that held the paper towel, I used the edge of my thumb and dragged it slowly along the bottom edge of her lip until the purple was gone.

  Her eyes snapped open, and her breathing picked up when I put my thumb into my mouth and sucked the tart liquid off.

  "Delicious," I said quietly.

  After a quick and sharp inhale, she narrowed her eyes in confusion. Then she blinked. "Sorry I scared you."

  And just like that, the moment was over. I could see it in the smoothing of her face.

  I stood and tossed the paper towel into the trash. "No, you're not."

  "You're right," she said around another grin. "I'm totally not. That was the highlight of my week." Her hands waved in the direction of my face and hair. "You've still got a little … everywhere."

  Sighing, I grabbed more paper towel and wet it in the sink. "I'm sure I do."

  "I didn't think you'd actually make me a smoothie."

  Lifting my eyebrow as best as I could while trying to scrub the drying liquid out of it, I gave her a look.

  Joss held up her hands. "Okay, fine, I figured you'd make me one. I just didn't think you'd jump like a bobcat was standing behind you."

  "Oh no," I drawled, "not a bobcat. Just a sneaky little hedgehog."

  She smirked. "You might as well go take a shower."

  "Another shower," I clarified with a mock glare, which made her chuckle. I glanced down at my chest, the shirt I decided to don at the last moment splattered with the mess. With one hand, I yanked at my T-shirt behind my head and tore it off.

  Joss was looking at her phone when the shirt cleared my head, but the tops of her cheeks had reddened. Disrobing in front of each other wasn't exactly our norm.

  "What about you?" I asked her.

  Her eyes trekked up the front of my chest slowly, but her face was blank when it met mine. "What about me what?"

  "Do you need a shower?"

  The sides of her lips twitched. "Do you happen to have a shower chair just lying around in case of emergency?"

  Embarrassment had my face heating. Of all the accommodations I'd made for Joss so she could be in our home easily, showering was not one of the things I'd had to think about. But it made sense that she wouldn't be able to hold herself steady long enough to shower.

  "Ahh, no, I don't."

  Briefly, I wondered if my parents would think it strange if I ripped out my current shower and put it in a brand new one just for her.

  Nope. Probably not.

  They'd probably rejoice if Joss and I finally got to the "shower stage" of our relationship.

  "And unless you're going to help me out of the bathtub, I think I'd rather just splash some water on my face if you don't mind."

  The woman was officially killing me. I didn't even have a bathtub in my apartment, but holy shit could I imagine her in one if I did.

  Thoughts of Joss and showers and baths were not a good combination with mesh gym shorts. I turned to face the sink. Fast.

  With rough movements and while reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in my head, I cleaned any remaining smoothie residue from my neck, face and hands while I fought to control my burgeoning hard-on.

  Joss was quiet, and I could feel her watching me.

  "What is it?" I asked, not meeting her eyes.

  "Who says I'm thinking something?"

  The look I gave her over my shoulder while I washed my hands was quick and loaded. "Who do you think you're dealing with here?"

  Her eyes rolled, a facial expression I was so familiar with, I smiled.

  "Do you ever wonder why I don't work my legs more when you and I work out together?"

  My hands slowed under the water, which was getting colder by the second. Probably good for me to douse any part of my body in cold water, but her words had an equal ardor-dousing effect. I'd noticed it, especially over the past year and a half. Number one, she didn't take me up on my offer to work out as much as she used to, and number two, she'd become really skilled at deflecting my offers to work on her legs and focused on her upper body instead.

  Before answering, I took my time turning the water off and drying my hands, using the damp towel to make sure my face was clean.

  "I've wondered," I said, leaning my hip against the island and facing her with my arms crossed over my chest. "But I think I know why, if that's really what you're asking."

  Not that I'd obsessed over it, but I knew she'd had a PT appoin
tment before she texted me.

  Which meant she saw PT guy.

  Which meant something happened.

  Because Joss was overthinking that something.

  Just as she was currently overthinking whether she wanted to ask me what my opinions were on why—despite mastering so many challenges in her life—I thought she was pulling back on the one area that common sense would assume she'd want the most.

  "What happened at PT?" I asked when she still didn't open her mouth.

  Her eyes never left my face. "I had to crawl like a dog."

  Anger had me straightening from the counter, my fingers curling into tight fists at my sides. "He made you do what?"

  When her lips twitched, I sank back against the counter and gave her a deadpan look. Oh sure, it was so fun to ignite the jealous instincts of your best friend—the man who would jump in front of a Mack truck for you—who possibly felt a smidge overprotective of you because he'd loved you for five years even though you didn't know it.

  "Not that your overreaction isn't fun, but it was just a little embarrassing, you know?" She shrugged one shoulder. "It's like he's determined to shine the world's brightest spotlight on every single place that I'm the weakest." Before I could point out that her legs would always be the area she'd be the weakest, she held up a hand. "Shut up, you know what I mean."

  "I do." I scratched the side of my face. "So what's with the crawling?"

  "Ugh. It was this ramp going up to the wall, and I had to crawl forward and backward, then do different balance exercises. Almost like inverted planks."

  The wheels in my head instantly started churning. The small gym in my parents' house had spots where I could easily build something similar. "Probably lit your glutes on fire, huh?"

  She laughed, but I could hear the embarrassed edge to it. "They were shaking so badly after just a few reps. I could hardly walk back to my seat after putting my chair in the back of my car."