“’Cause you’re wicked smart,” he says with a wink. “For real, though, that’s awesome. Way to go.”
“Thanks,” I say with a small smile. “I’ve been watching you play. You look great out there. Even if y’all keep getting your asses handed to you.”
“Yeah, it’s all shit. New rumor is they’re going to replace our coach.”
“Ack, that’s not fun.”
“Nope. I like him. He’s a good guy, but they’re looking at this younger dude.”
I nod. “Still, that’s frustrating.”
“It is, but whatever. I’m just gonna keep kicking ass.”
“That’s all you can do, I guess.”
“For sure. Dart is irritated, and Thatcher is over it. We’re all trying to stay positive, but we’re so out of play-off position, it isn’t even funny.”
“I remember when the Assassins didn’t make it out of round one of the play-offs. It was awful. My dad was pissed and felt like shit.”
“Yeah, I don’t like it at all. Didn’t expect my rookie year to suck.”
“But aren’t you like third in the league for goals?”
He nods. “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter when my team isn’t doing well.”
My heart hurts for him. He wants so badly for everyone to be successful. He’s such a team player, when really, he doesn’t have to be. He is one of the best players on the ice, but you’d never know off the ice with how it’s never I but we. “I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is. I get to see you in two days, so I have something to look forward to.”
I beam at him. “I can’t wait.”
“Me either,” he says, taking a bite of his breadstick. “Have you been following the lifting plan?”
I nod happily. “I have, and I’m proud to say, I’ve gone up ten pounds on all my lifts, and I’ve lost fourteen pounds!”
He grins, smacking his leg loudly. “Fuck yes, Pax!” He’s so animated with his hands. “Show me. Get up. I wanna see the bod.”
“Stop!”
“No, come on! Show me!”
I bite my lip, and I kinda wanna show him. I put the phone on my nightstand and stand in front of it, pulling at my scrubs to show how much extra fabric I have now. “And look!” I say, flexing my bicep. “I’m basically stronger than you now.”
He nods. “Absolutely. So much stronger.”
We share a grin as I sit back down, putting him back in his place so we can eat.
“And not to say I told you so, but I told you so.”
I scoff. “Shut up.”
“You know I’m right. All you had to do was ease back on the cardio and eat.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes.
I love his smile and his little dimple. I adore his face. With so much joy in his expression, he says, “So, we’ll celebrate.”
“Celebrate?”
“Yeah.”
“What? Me losing weight? That needed to be done.”
He gives me a look of exasperation. “You worked hard. I want to celebrate you.”
“That’s silly and unneeded.”
“Anyway,” he says, ignoring my comment, “get out your sexiest dress, Ms. Paxton. I’m taking you somewhere special.”
I scoff though panic sets in. “I have nothing but scrubs and sweats for the gym.”
I refuse to tell him that all the regular clothes I have do not fit me. I couldn’t even squeeze into something and hope for the best. Everything I used to wear was very revealing, and if I put any of it on now, I’d look like a busted can of biscuits. No way am I subjecting him or myself to that. The thought of it alone is giving me anxiety.
“Then go shopping.”
I give him a look. “I’m broke. And, no, I don’t want your money.”
He laughs. “I can Venmo you right now.”
“No, sir. Thank you. We can go through a drive-through or go to the pub if you insist on going out.”
“So you can wear scrubs? No thank you. I want you to get gussied up and go out. Kick your heels up.”
I make a face. “I haven’t worn heels in over a year.”
“Which is a shame because your calves are hot as hell.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re beautiful,” he throws back with a wink. “Now, I’m Venmoing you.”
“Owen Michael Adler, don’t you dare.”
He has nothing but trouble in those blue depths. “Mm, I want to hear you say that while I’m between your legs.”
A jolt of desire hits me between those very legs. “Jesus Christ!”
He laughs as my phone dings. “Oh shit, look at the time. I gotta go.”
I see the banner telling me I have money in my Venmo account. “I swear I’m going to beat you with my new muscles.”
He winks. “I can’t wait, gorgeous. Make sure you get the sluttiest thing you can find. Lots of boobs and ass, please. Oh, and biceps. I want to lick those.”
Before I can yell at him, the call drops, and I’m left shaking my head.
And grinning.
From ear to ear and feeling it all over.
I can’t get enough of him.
Owen: Send me a pic of what you bought. I don’t want to be surprised.
I make a face when I read his text. Owen will be home tomorrow, and I haven’t even been shopping. I have no desire, nor do I want to put myself through that. I buy everything online and guess at sizes. I don’t have time to do that before he comes to get me tomorrow at three. He hasn’t told me what we’re doing or even given me any clues, but he’s dead set on me getting something fancy for it. I sent him back the money he sent me on Venmo, and he re-sent it. We did that about four times before I just gave up.
Now I have to go shopping, and I have no clue where to go. I haven’t gone shopping for this body yet, and I don’t know if I want to. Maybe I can keep working really hard and just get my old body back by tomorrow?
Why is this so stressful?
Me: I haven’t gone yet. I don’t even know where to go.
Owen: What? Stop being difficult. Go.
Me: I’m not. Really, I only buy sweats and scrubs.
Owen: That’s ridiculous.
Me: I’m realizing that now. Thanks.
When he sends me the gif of Mrs. Doubtfire yelling “Help is on the way!” I make a face. What does that even mean? Before I can ask, though, my patient arrives and I get drawn into work. I don’t even remember to text him back about his message because we’re so jammed today. Thankfully, it’s a short day, and when four o’clock rolls around, my shift is over.
That’s when I see her.
I don’t know her from Adam, but I want to know her. She’s looking right at me while she pushes the cutest little baby in a stroller, and I even glance around to make sure there’s no one else she could be looking for. When I turn my gaze back to her, I’m so taken by her. She is on the thicker side, like me, with long, luscious black hair and big brown eyes. They’re so bright and shiny it looks like she’s crying, but she can’t be. She’s grinning from ear to ear. She wears a pair of fitted high-waisted jeans and a crop top that shows her belly. Yes, belly, and she looks fierce. With a pair of Nikes and a baby bag on her back, she looks like she means business, and instantly, I’m intimidated.