Chapter 12
twelve
Josh
Fuck it, I’m going to kiss her.
You can’t kiss her.
But I want to kiss her.
You. Can’t. Kiss. Her.
I pull myself away from Kate and step back, ignoring the fact that I was just arguing with myself and try to act as normal as possible.
“Anyway,” I say, grabbing the tie holding my hair in a bun at the back of my neck and pulling it loose, just so that I have something to do with my hands that doesn’t involve touching my assistant. “How was your morning?”
“Well,” she says, smiling. “I actually did a little research this morning.”
“What kind of research?”
“Hang on,” she says, practically skipping with glee back to her room. She returns a few seconds later carrying her laptop, and sits on the couch, patting the spot next to her for me to sit. I hesitate, staring at the spot she just touched before taking a deep breath.
You can do this. You can sit next to her without touching her. Just…be cool.
She turns her laptop toward me as I sit next to her, and I see…I don’t even know what I see. A spreadsheet with about thirty columns and colors and data.
So much data.
She starts explaining what I’m looking at, but just like last night, I can’t fully focus on anything but her.
The way the blue light from the screen lights up her face.
The way our legs are pressed together but she hasn’t moved away.
The confidence in her voice. How big she’s smiling, like doing this for me made her happy.
I ask her to explain it to me again, and she does without hesitation or judgment in her voice, and I force myself to pay attention. If she took the time—hours, if I had to guess—to do this for me, then I can force my brain to focus for a few minutes to hear what she has to say.
“So, just to recap,” I say, returning my focus to her laptop.
I raise a finger, poking it at the screen.
“This color-coded monstrosity you’ve created includes a meal plan, a workout routine, and a list of productivity hacks?
” I raise a brow, watching as Kate pulls the sleeve of her sweatshirt down over her hand and rubs small circles on the screen where I touched it.
“I mean, this thing has hyperlinks, Kate. Hyperlinks. I think you might be a supervillain.” I sigh. “There’s no way I’ll remember all this.”
“You let me worry about that,” she says, returning her hand to her lap. “This is just everything I found that could help and would be conducive to your life right now. You can choose to do some, none, or all of it.” She turns to face me. “If you want to try medication, we can do that, too.”
I smile, unable to ignore the use of the word “we”, before my face falls.
“The last stuff I was on was awful. I couldn’t sleep and had all these crazy mood swings,” I admit, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I was an asshole. The guys hated to be around me. Hell, I hated to be around me. And it’s so hard to remember to take a pill every day.”
“I get that,” she says, nodding. “But I can help. If you want. It’s your body, you get to choose how to handle it. I just wanted to show you that you have options and you’re not doing this alone. Not anymore.”
I exhale and stare at the screen again. This is…sweet. Really fucking sweet. No one has ever done anything like this for me, certainly not with this much effort and enthusiasm. I swallow hard and clear my throat.
“Thank you,” I say, placing my hand on her thigh before I can stop myself. Shit. My eyes dart to hers in a panic but she smiles and doesn’t move away, so I keep my hand there, testing the waters. Does she want me to touch her? Could I possibly be that lucky?
“You’re welcome.”
I slowly move my thumb back and forth across her thigh and when her gaze drops to my mouth, I lean in, heart catching in my throat when her eyes flutter closed. Our lips barely touch and my phone rings.
We both jump apart, our eyes wide. Kate shuts her laptop, stands from the couch, and rushes back to her room without looking back.
The next morning, I’m awoken by a blaring alarm I don’t remember setting, followed almost immediately by a knock at the door. I roll onto my side and grab my phone off the nightstand. Squinting at it, I see the words GET UP AND WORK OUT, ASSHOLE plastered across my screen.
Right. Day one of the new workout routine.
It takes a second to process what day it is and where we are. My mind flashes back to the crowd in Cleveland last night, which means we’re now in Cincinnati.
Groaning, I tap the alarm off and roll out of bed, heading toward the door of the RV. I push it open to find Kate standing outside wearing black leggings with a matching sports bra, and cropped white hoodie that’s currently unzipped—and suddenly I’m wide fucking awake.
“Morning,” she says, flashing a smile—or at least I think she’s smiling. Hard to tell when I’m too busy getting hung up on how good she looks in those leggings. I drag my gaze back up to her face just in time to catch her biting her lip.
Hold on…ponytail. Athleticwear. Running shoes.
“Are you coming with me?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Some studies show that working out with a buddy increases the likelihood of sticking to the routine by up to seventy-eight percent.”
I don’t know why but listening to her rattle off statistics is almost as sexy as her body in those clothes.
“Unless you’d rather go alone,” she says, rushing the words out like she’s nervous. “I know a lot of people prefer to work out alone, so it’s fine if you do. I just wanted you to know that I’ll go with you. You know, if…if you want.”
“Kate,” I say, grinning. “I will never say no to hanging out with you.” She lets out an audible sigh of relief, and I step aside. “I need five minutes, if you want to wait in here?” She nods and climbs up into the RV, her body brushing mine as she passes, sending a jolt of electricity through me.
I walk back into the bedroom and shut the door before rummaging through my scattered clothes to find a t-shirt, pulling it on, and gathering my hair into a low bun at the back of my neck.
“Ready?” I ask, stepping back out into the front of the RV where Kate is waiting in one of the recliners. She nods and we walk back outside to go for a run.
Kate groans next to me.
“Running is…fucking stupid,” she says, struggling to get the words out in between panting breaths. “Why…do you…do this…to…yourself?”
I laugh.
“You either love or hate cardio,” I say.
“Well…plant me…firmly…in…camp hate.”
I’ve never seen her like this. She’s always cheery and upbeat, and the furrow between her brows is throwing me off. She’s a little flushed from the run, cheeks pink and skin glistening with sweat, but she’s breathtaking. Beautiful in that effortless way that sneaks up on you.
“Only another half mile until we’re back, then you can peel off.”
“Oh no,” she says, grabbing her side. “I said…I’d…do this…so…I’m…doing this.”
“Hey,” I say, putting my hand out in front of her chest and forcing her to stop.
With her hand still gripping her side, she winces and bends at the waist. “No, don’t slump over,” I say, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her upright.
“If you have a side stitch you need to stretch it out.” I take her hands and raise them over her head, threading our fingers together to help hold them there.
Her eyes lock onto mine and suddenly, it’s not the run that has me short of breath.
“Good,” I say, my voice breaking awkwardly. I clear my throat and try again. “Good. Now deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” She breathes with me as I lead her through it, the tension in her face slowly receding. “Better?”
“Not really,” she says. Her nose scrunches as the corner of her lip curls up. “You smell pretty bad.”
I laugh.
“Hey now,” I say. “Eau de Josh is limited edition. What you’re picking up on are notes of sweat and ego with just a hint of bad decisions.”
“If you’re referring to this run, you’re right. Bad decision. Possibly the worst decision in the history of bad decisions.”
“Did I lose my workout buddy before we even got started?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. I lower our hands but don’t let them go, taking advantage of the moment and brushing my thumbs back and forth across her knuckles.
“On cardio days, yes.”
When I pout my bottom lip out and she smiles, it lights me up. I squeeze her hands before finally making myself pull away.
“Come on, we’ll walk back.”
I expect her to argue that she can run the rest of the way, but I’m surprised when she nods once and falls into step beside me.
We walk in silence—the only sounds are the crunch of gravel under our shoes and the birds in the trees surrounding the trail we’d found. I steal a glance at her and immediately look away. My heart’s already acting stupid. Beating out a rhythm that feels an awful lot like told. you. so.
She doesn’t know what she does to me just by being near. How every little thing—every laugh, every eye roll, every sarcastic comment—flings itself over the walls I’ve worked hard to erect around my heart and stays there.
I didn’t plan on falling for her. Honestly, I didn’t think I had it in me to feel this way again, but as I walk beside her, I find myself hoping the RVs are farther away than I remember, just so I can have a few more minutes of this.
Of her.
Of us.
Even if the us I’m starting to crave only ever lives in my head, because how could someone like Kate—elegant, composed, thoughtful, grounded—ever want a mess like me?