Page 36 of His Reckoning

I grab a set of weights and turn around to face the mirror along the wall which reflects most of the room.

She starts jogging a minute later. At first, she keeps her attention on the treadmill … then her gaze shifts.

Her eyes move to the mirror in front of her as I watch them rake over my shoulders, my arms, then lower before snapping back up again when she realizes I noticed.

She clears her throat. “You work out late.”

“Sometimes.”

“I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“I thought you would too.”

She runs for another minute before speaking again. “I usually run at night.”

“That explains the timing.”

I put the weights down and walk back over to the pull up bar.

She nods slightly, and then her eyes flick toward the mirror again and back to me. It’s subtle, but not subtle enough.

I finish another set of pull-ups and drop down from the bar.

Kayla’s pace on the treadmill stumbles slightly.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“You weren’t staring.”

“I was definitely staring.”

She makes an indistinct motion toward me. “You’re very”—she pauses—“fit.”

“That’s one way to describe it.”

“You work out a lot,” she states.

“Yes.”

“That tracks.”

“Why?”

She shrugs, still jogging. “You seem like the type of person who needs to burn off stress.”

I pick up the weights again and start some bicep curls. “That obvious?”

“A little.”

She runs quietly for a moment, then glances toward the mirror again.

Finally, she shakes her head slightly. “I should probably focus on my own workout.”

She increases the speed on the treadmill, but a few seconds later, her gaze slides back toward the mirror again. And this time, when our eyes meet, she doesn’t look away immediately.

The soft rhythm of her footsteps fills the room.

I pick up another set of weights and begin an overhead press, but my focus shifts. Because now that the initial surprise has worn off, I’m actually looking at her.