Page 22 of Mr. Red

“Oh no. You’re one of those, huh?” He sighs. “It’s okay, I won’t judge.” He pauses. “Too much.”

“Hey!” I shove him. He laughs, making me smile. I like being the one to make him chuckle.

“How ’bout buying a house?”

“You said it was temporary.”

“Yes, but I did buy one.”

I smirk at him while raising my glass. “Cheers.”

We eat his lunch amongst the fresh air and water. If I didn’t know any better, I would say we were on a date. We aren’t. If we were, though, this sure is a picturesque date. I can’t remember the last time I had a picnic. He brought everything—there are even little sets of cutlery.

“What do you think of Washington so far?” I ask.

“It’s beautiful. Pretty women, even though they seem to have an attitude.”

“Every woman here has an attitude?” I look at him with disbelief on my face.

“Well, just this gorgeous one with a colorful name.”

“Colorful? Are you talking about me?” I put my hand over my heart.

He just smirks back at me.

“If you’re talking about me,” I say with my eyebrow raised, “there will be consequences.”

“Consequences?” He makes a small grunting sound with a look saying he’s not impressed. “I think I can handle it.”

I take some hummus on a spoon and act like I’m going to spread it on my bread, but I quickly smear it all over his cheek instead.

He freezes for a moment, and then starts shuffling in his backpack. A small splash of water coats my face from a cup.

I scream, “You did not just do that!”

He raises his palms. “Hey, you started it!”

I’m quick, and retaliate by hitting him with the baguette. He breaks off half and it becomes a sword fight.

Are we twelve right now? What’s happening?

He drops the bread on the blanket and wraps me in his arms so I can’t fight with him anymore. The move is surprising. I stiffen.

I’ll admit, I like his strong arms around me. I like how good he smells—sandalwood surrounding me.

Except, he’s my client. I shouldn’t be this close to him...like this. The gym’s professional reputation is going to go out the window if this continues.

He looks down, holding me in a bear hug, his lips leaning in closer to mine like he’s going to kiss me. I can’t kiss him. I turn away.

“Okay, okay, truce!” I try to make light of the moment as he releases me.

He makes some sort of noise like he’s clearing his throat. “Had to make sure I won.” Then he twists his wrist like he’s trying to adjust his watch.

“I’m not sure calling a truce is winning,” I joke.

“Don’t tempt me, Miss Scarlett,” he growls. He should do phone sex for a living, because damn, that voice is like a smooth whiskey melting through my body.

I turn away trying to hide my blush. I start cleaning up our mess and replacing the lids on the containers so we can continue our hike. I’m trying to act busy, but my eyes keep wandering over to him. He still has hummus on his cheek, his hair is tousled, and he’s looking at the bread as though it has all the answers to the mysteries of the world.