He looked at me like he wasn’t sure if I was lost or legally allowed to touch food.
Later that day, Mrs. Bigley handed me two protein drinks and said,
“Take these to Mr. Mercer in the gym.”
I repeated the instructions aloud.
I was determined not to mess this one up.
Except…
I found the gym. I opened the door. I walked straight in.
And Slade Mercer was shirtless.
Doing pull-ups.
His muscles flexed, back moving like some sculpted work of art. His sweat-soaked hair clung to his forehead, and he looked powerful enough to break the pull-up bar in half if he wanted to.
He turned.
I froze so hard I forgot how blinking worked.
His dark green eyes met mine.
Heat licked up my neck.
“I— I’m— drinks!” I squeaked, thrusting the bottles out like a shield.
He stared at me.
Very intensely.
