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CHAPTER 17

LIZZY

ARE YOU SERIOUS?

I roll off the yoga mat, sitting crosslegged on the rug in front of the fireplace after Clay gruffly told me to move. I will give it to him. This is definitely a scenic, cozy place to do yoga. A fireplace on one side and floor to ceiling windows looking out over the mountains.

But this view.

Clay, kneeling on the yoga mat in shorts and a tight, sleeveless workout shirt. He’s stretching his arms behind his back and rolling his neck. I mean it’s downright pornographic. He’s a masterpiece of sinewy muscles flexing under a rippling painting of tattoos. If he was facing me, he’d see a shade of crimson crawling across my skin.

Somehow, my idea of Clay being my accountability buddy seems incredibly indulgent right now. A true treat yourself moment on my Tour de Lizzy .

Clay slowly goes through a short routine alternating back and forth between downward dog and cobra poses.

I sit here, crossing my arms in amusement. He’s good at it, but that’s nothing crazy. “Clay, you don’t have to do this.”

He stays quiet and pulls himself up into a cobra. I’m about to say something when he flawlessly shifts into a crow pose and holds it.

I sit in stunned silence while he transitions from that into a shoulder stand, balancing his entire weight on his hands.

“Were you saying something about stiff as a board?” he says gruffly, turning to look at me over his shoulder, smirking.

Are you serious?

“How on earth are you doing that? ”

He gracefully lowers himself back to the floor and sits facing me, looking at me sheepishly. “You do know I qualified for the Olympics, right?”

I think back to the pictures on the walls last night, thinking about some of the medals for international competitions. But the Olympics? I didn’t know that. The idea that this gruff construction worker, being a former world class athlete, is a stark contrast. I mean he certainly has the body for it. But how did he really get here besides the injuries?

“I didn’t know that,” I say in a whisper. “I thought with your knees and not being able to ski, you’d be a little less flexible than this.” A half-hearted nervous laugh leaves my mouth as I gesture at him on the mat.

“I can still ski.” His voice is ice, clearly not amused.

The abruptness of his comment almost startles me.

“Oh, well then when did you stop skiing?”

He shifts uncomfortably and runs his hand back and forth over the smaller scar on his left knee. “After this one.” He stands and walks over to the window, looking out at the mountains in the distance. “Can we talk about literally anything else?”

He turns back to me, still sporting a scowl.

“Seriously, Clay. You should scowl less. You’re going to get wrinkles,” I joke, trying to change the topic and lighten the mood.

He continues to stand there like a statue, seemingly unamused. With the morning light coming in, his imposing silhouette is quite a sight.

“Actually, on second thought, you’re already too pretty. Maybe you can keep scowling.” I pinch my fingers together in front of my face. “Just a little.”

His lip twitches flashing a dimple on his cheek that’s quickly turning red.

“Clay Chapman,” I say with a playful tone .

“What?” He looks concerned, like I’ve caught him doing something he’s not supposed to.

“You’re trying not to laugh, aren’t you?”

He groans and strides back across the floor, settling down on the ground in front of me. “You’re something else, Lizzy.”

Again, there’s something about that phrase, something else , that sticks with me and hits me in my heart.

Not too much.

Not tone it down.

I’m so used to hearing that I’m not enough or too much , that I should be anything other than my authentic self. So hearing just something else feels good, like he sees me for who I am.

“So… are we friends now or what?”

He shakes his head before reaching a hand out across the mat to me. “Friends.”

I reach out and grab his hand, shaking it once. The feeling of his skin against mine sends a snap of electricity and heat through me, remembering the feeling of his touch at Roxy’s. My voice trembles. “Yeah, friends.” I quickly pull my hand away with a sheepish laugh.

“So, yoga then?” I ask, patting the mat between us.

He cocks his head. “I started doing it after my first ACL tear.” He pats his right knee. “I also tore my meniscus and MCL and it was such a mess. Yoga became part of my rehab and stretching routine. I kept up with it. I do a little before my morning runs and a little afterwards or before bed.”

I find myself thinking that the world is missing out on the sight of Clay Chapman doing morning yoga after a hot and sweaty run.

Lucky me.

No, Lizzy. No.

He’s your best friend’s soon-to-be-brother-in-law.

He’s your temporary roommate and the one fixing your family’s condo .

He’s your friend.

Albeit, an insanely hot one with a dangerously irresistible dark and brooding side. But still a genuine friend, which I can never have enough of.

Monday morning comes and I feel quite pleased with myself. Sunday went off without a hitch. I had fresh coffee. My new roommate, friend, and accountability buddy did yoga and a light workout with me again. I also noticed that Clay went and stocked the kitchen with the groceries we couldn’t find Saturday at the small local store. And I even got some reading done.

Now it’s back to the workweek, but at least I’m working from Clay’s living room. He lit a fire before he left, and I have to say, a girl could get used to this. The house, the hot man servant - even Ani is actually pretty cool and has hung out with me all day.

It’s lunch time here, but late afternoon in Ohio when Jessica calls me for our Monday check-in. I cozy up on the couch with my laptop on the coffee table when I see Jessica’s face pop on the screen.

“How’s my favorite subordinate today?” her familiar voice asks.

“Nice to see you too,” I say, taking a sip of my second cup of coffee for the day.

“Oh, Lizzy, what would I do without you to brighten my soulless days in the office at Fischer?”

“Geez. Really selling the company hard there. Good thing I already work for you.” I take another sip of my coffee while she starts to share something on her screen. My attention drifts when Ani’s ears perk up and he walks excitedly over to the door behind me in the kitchen .

“Hey, boy. Good to see you.” I hear Clay’s deep voice in the kitchen.

“So, Lizzy, the numbers you sent last week.” Jessica starts when I hear foot steps behind me going back and forth from the kitchen to the dining area.

I watch as Jessica’s eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open on the screen. “Did you freeze or is something wrong?” I ask.

“Woah. What is that ?” She points at the screen. “Or who is that?”

I turn around and see Clay, shirtless walking around the kitchen, tidying up my mess from making coffee.

Are you serious?

“Oh my god. Shit.” I blurt out, frantically turning the laptop away from that view. “Sorry. That’s my temporary roommate. You remember Veronica? It’s her fiancé’s brother. I’m staying with him until the condo gets fixed.” I emailed her about it Friday, so this shouldn’t be a surprise minus the whole shirtless eye candy she just saw.

“Sure.” She drags out the word, grinning at me. “ Roommate. Well, hopefully he’s not too much of a distraction.” I sigh and palm my face in embarrassment.

After my call is over, I walk over to Clay in the kitchen, who’s standing there, still very shirtless, now eating a bowl of yogurt at the kitchen island.

“What the hell was that?” I stand right next to him, pushing him in the shoulder, which of course does nothing to him.

“What?” he says, still eating, like nothing is wrong.

“I mean, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the day, parading around shirtless in the background of my video call.”

He sets his spoon down in the bowl. “I come home at lunch every day. Normally let Ani out, eat, and do a chore or flip the laundry over. And today, I had an extra chore because you didn’t clean up after yourself, princess. ”

I glare back at him. “And this needs to be done shirtless why?”

He shrugs. “I run hot. I don’t like getting all sweaty running around the house doing chores and having to change. Normally I’m here alone so I just take off my shirt and put it back on before heading back out.”

Ok. Maybe a little excessive, but I guess that’s reasonable knowing Mr. Control-Freak-Hyper-Productivity here.

I take a deep breath and calmly exhale. “Ok. I guess that’s fine. But condition number three.” I hold up three fingers and wave them in his face. “Next time, can you just stay out of my camera’s view?”

“Or you could just use my office for video calls,” he says, pointing out the obvious answer. “Or better yet, you can use my office for anything you want. Oh, and speaking of…” he pauses for a second and shakes his head. “No, never mind. But yes, please use my office as much as you need to.”

“OK, thanks. But what were you going to say?”

“It’s nothing. Just, Tanner and V said you work in finance and accounting. I’ve been dealing with these invoices after I took on more responsibility at work and some of them just seem off to me.” His brow furrows and his lips quirk together on one side. “If you have some time, I’d love a second set of eyes.”

That’s certainly not what I was expecting him to ask. “Sure. Of course. I’d be happy to.”

“Thanks. Seriously.” He nods appreciatively before finishing his yogurt.

I left the house before Clay was home from work to meet Grace for happy hour. It was nice, but I’m beat, and thanks to my new accountability buddy, I plan on being home and in bed at a reasonable hour. Ok. Maybe reasonable for me but late for most people, especially on a Monday night.

I put my keys on the hook, just like Clay asked and hang my purse and jacket on the coat rack. It’s quiet except for the crackling of the fire, which seems odd because it’s late, I assumed he would be in bed, and he doesn’t seem like the type to leave a fire going all night.

I step around the corner quietly into the living room and to my surprise, Clay is there. I pull my hand to my chest, startled to see him. And boy, do I see him. He’s sitting in the leather chair next to the fire with Ani curled up on the dog bed at his feet. My eyes move up from Ani, across Clay’s bare legs, one crossed over the other, his scars and his thigh tattoos peeking out from under his gym shorts. He’s holding a book, his tattooed hands delicately flipping the pages, his green eyes framed by black heavy rimmed glasses, and the fire is flickering against his short, dark, inky hair.

I stand there, hoping he won’t notice and watch him for a second. A line in the book must be funny, because he laughs, a real laugh - not like the little chuckles or snorts I hear from him. His dimples pop and he actually looks like the twenty-eight year old he should be, not the hardened man that he is.

Seriously, where is the tree in Wyoming that the Chapman men grow on?

A giggle escapes my lips and I rush to cover my mouth. Ani’s ears tilt to me but he doesn’t move from his bed. Clay looks over and the content look on his face morphs into his usual scowl.

“Were you just standing there watching me?” he asks, turning his attention back to his book. “Fucking creepy.”

I’m glad to see we’re back to this Clay, moody and broody.

“I had to see it for myself. The dark and mysterious Clay Chapman, sitting by the fire and reading smutty romance books alone at night.” I sit down in the other chair, on the opposite side of the fireplace. “And what’s with the glasses? Aren’t you too young for reading glasses? I didn’t have you pegged for being the glamorous, fake lenses type.”

He glares at me over the book and I have to admit, the glasses look good on him. “I wear contacts. It started with racing and moguls because glasses never work well with ski goggles. Then when I got into construction, it was easier with the safety glasses. It just became a routine. I take them out at night and to read to give my eyes a break.”

I nod and settle into the chair, prompting a sigh of defeat from him. He dog ears a page and sets the book in his lap. “You’re welcome to hang with me tonight. But if you’re going to, I really want to finish this chapter. So read or yoga. Pick one.”

I mock gasp at him. “Are you inviting me to spend time with you willingly? And did you just dog ear a page?” I clutch my hand to my chest. “How dare you assault a shelf trophy like that?”

He rolls his eyes and groans. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Fine. Yoga.” I bounce out of the chair and head to the basket along the windows where we’ve been keeping our yoga mats. “You love giving me shit for my matching yoga outfits, but look who’s already prepared.”

I roll out the mat, take off my shoes, and settle into the start of my routine. I will begrudgingly admit that having Clay help me the last few days has been helpful. I can already feel a difference from three straight days of this routine.

And maybe it was the happy hour drinks, maybe it’s the cute dog curled up on the dog bed, or maybe it’s the warmth of the crackling fire, but I feel so relaxed here right now. I breathe deep, exhaling as I go into a downward dog.

My brief moment of bliss is interrupted by the sound of Clay clearing his throat. “You’re loud.” I glare at him, noticing he’s doing the same over his book.

“Is that a complaint? ”

“No, just an observation.”

“I can go do it in my room if you’d prefer that.” I start to stand, but he sets down his book.

“No. It’s fine. Just never realized how loud yoga is when you’re listening to someone do it.”

My lips curve into a smile. “Well, no one has ever called me quiet.” I wink back at him.

He rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss that his cheeks go pink and his throat bobs. “I bet.”

Ok. Maybe Grace was right. This isn’t the rough, harsh man I expected.

“You know, you’re not so bad, Clayton Chapman,” I tease playfully.

“Please don’t call me Clayton.” His eyes are pleading, almost frighteningly soft compared to what I’m used to seeing. This look flat out catches me off guard.

“I’m sorry. I won’t. I just thought-” he grabs his book and stands, with me still on the ground.

“It’s fine.” He steps over me and walks towards the hall to the bedrooms, stopping to turn back. I hear him let out a long, rough breath. “That’s my full name, but only mom and Kayleigh would call me that. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know. I’m just tired. Goodnight, Lizzy.”

He turns again and heads to his room. My heart sinks at his admission while I watch his tall frame disappear from view. I feel like a jerk. I thought it was ok if Kayleigh was teasing him with it, but I didn’t know that it was his mom’s nickname for him. I guess they’ve known each other longer, since before that accident and he’s ok with her calling him that.