Page 58 of Never the Same

I dropped my dumbbells, and they slammed down onto the mat. Ranger startled, bolting straight between Hollis’s legs as she stood in the doorway to my gym. Some guard dog you are.

“You okay? How’d you sleep?” I scanned the room for the shirt I’d tossed somewhere mid-workout. “I made you lunch earlier, but you were knocked out, so I didn’t want to wake you.”

I looked back at her, curious why she wasn’t speaking. She was just standing in the doorway as if in a daze, holding open the door with her shoulder, a statue of kill-me-now sexiness in her gym outfit with her hair in a tight ponytail.

I resumed searching for my shirt while she kept up with the quiet act. I spotted it, but so did Ranger. He ran straight over and turned it into his bed. Of course you did that.

She finally broke the silence. “Any updates?”

Not so fast. I set my hands above the waistband of my black gym shorts. “You didn’t answer my questions.”

She joined me, letting the door swing shut behind her. “You know exactly how I slept and what happened while I did.” She inhaled a deep breath and kept hold of it, and she had me wanting to hold a breath captive myself.

“I don’t, actually. Not a mind reader.”

“If only you were, then you could figure out what happened to me, since the memories have to be somewhere in my head. I just don’t have access to them.”

Her semi-sad response forced me to remember she wasn’t in my house to drive me nuts in those short shorts. Never thought I’d see the day when Hollis needed me.

“I slept fine.”

I quietly snorted my rejection of her response, hands falling to my sides.

“Do you actually want the truth?” She carefully avoided the equipment to face off with me.

“That’d be an excellent start.”

Her gaze flicked down my bare chest and back up again. Still couldn’t believe she’d walked in my bedroom at 0500 and discovered my morning wood. I’d been dreaming, too, and mine had been a hell of a lot less innocent than hers. X-rated and filthy.

She poked at my pec muscle, and my jaw muscle ticked as I looked between our bodies in search of her touch, only to get distracted by her nipples, hard and visible through her sports bra.

“I woke up feeling at peace because I had that same dream yet again, only to slide into a state of confusion because of it. Not to mention . . .”

She abandoned her words, so I did something stupid. “Finish what you were saying,” I grated out, growing increasingly tense with her being technically shirtless like me. “Don’t be shy now, you’ve never been before.”

She hit me with the sass that I loved while retracting her finger from my heated, slick skin. “You seem like a smart man—figure it out.”

Smart for a high school dropout? Yeah, her mother’s words had become a chip on my shoulder. “Genuinely no clue what you were planning to say.” I backed up, bumping into my bench. “But if you’re in here to work out, absolutely not.”

“You told me during the tour yesterday I could use the space anytime.”

“You’ve barely eaten today. And no, coffee and a slice of banana bread doesn’t qualify as nutritional enough for you to lift.” I really wished there was a better barrier between us other than air. “And to answer your question, no updates from Constantine, or anyone working the case, for that matter.” Unfortunately.

She peered over at my squat rack.

Oh, hell no. “Nope, not changing my mind.” I gestured to the door, signaling for her to get her ass to the kitchen.

“I’ll grab a snack after I work out. Something tells me I’ll survive.” She stubbornly stood her ground, locking her arms over her chest, which only further accentuated her breasts in that tight black sports bra top she had on.

I forgot her defiance for a moment, because I couldn’t help but notice a bruise on her chest. How’d I miss that when she was practically flashing me the other day? “How’d you get that?”

“Get what?” She tucked in her chin, locating the mark. “It was there when I woke up on Friday in my mother’s bed in Surrey.”

Now I couldn’t help but think about our conversation last night. What had happened to her during those missing hours? If I were to examine possible ideas, I’d lose my shit, and no amount of duct tape would hold me together. No, she needed me to remain of sound mind until her head was once again jam-packed with her memories.

“Still hurt?”

“Barely.” She shrugged. “But back to the problem at hand . . .”