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“Make me.” Her tone is playful, but her expression changes the instant I take one step toward her. She shuts the door and turns to face me.
I shake my head. “You really don’t learn, do you?” I walk closer to her. “Fine, I’ll run the 5k, but you’re going to run it with me.”
“What? No, absolutely not. I don’t have anywhere to train and it’s freezing outside… and icy!”
“It’s a 5k, Presley. You’re twenty-four; you can manage just fine.” She glares at me. “What’s your level of”—I’m aware of the way I’m saying it and I can’t hide the smirk that naturally finds its way to my lips—“physical activity lately?”
“Nonexistent. I work and when I’m not working, I’m in school.”
“You can train at my place. I have a personal gym.”
“Your place?” Her eyebrows shoot upward.
I check the time. I’m going to be late for my next meeting if I don’t leave. I open my phone and hand it to her before sliding my coat over my arms.
“Put your number in.”
“Why?”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus, are you always so difficult? Because you work for me, and I need to be able to reach you.”
She frowns, turning her attention to the screen and entering her information before handing it back to me.
I hit her name and type out a new text to her with my home address, hitting send. She looks down at her lap where her cell lights up with an alert.
“Now you have my number and my home address. Be there tomorrow night at seven for your first training session.” I step around her and swing my office door open.
“I don’t run.”
“Neither do I, but you didn’t seem to consider that before committing me to it so now we’re both going to suffer. If you insist on making things difficult for me, sweetheart”—I wink at her, throwing her words right back at her—“then I’m happy to oblige.”
Chapter 10
Presley
I glance around the bar on Wabash, spotting Forrest immediately by the bar. He smiles, waving me over.
“Oh, I’m just meeting someone,” I say to the hostess as I point toward him. I walk over to where he’s standing, and he bends down to give me an unexpected hug.
“Hey, thanks again for meeting with me.” I smile and shrug off my coat, placing it on the barstool.
“Yeah, of course. Hope you don’t mind”—he lifts up his half-empty pint of beer—“got started without you.”
My brain immediately does that thing where it compares him to Cyrus. I think back to our lunch where he ordered for me, something I’ve seen dominant and powerful men do in movies but never knew it was actually a thing. I’d always thought if a man ordered for me, I’d demand to pick my own food, but he actually asked me and weirdly… it was kind of hot. That’s one of the things that drives me wild about Cyrus—the fact that he’s bossy and demands to be in control. It makes me want to toss every feminine urge to tell him that I’m strong and independent and don’t need a man right out the window and fall to my knees.
“Earth to Presley.”
I inhale audibly, jerking my head back to Forrest who’s waving his hand in front of my face.
“Sorry, yeah, totally fine,” I say, waving away his apology. The bartender nods his head toward me as he approaches. “I’ll have a Stella.”
“Good choice.”
“So,” I start to ask about the interview but he interrupts me.
“Do you go out a lot?”
“Um, not really. I’m kind of a homebody and plus with work and school, I stay pretty busy. Do you?”
