“Want to practice handstands?” Cole was on the opposite side of the counter at the leasing office, but within seconds that changed. He places hid palms on the smooth surface and hoisted himself up, his legs pointing out to the side like a gymnast on a pommel horse. For a moment, I was afraid he was going to try to rise into a handstand, but instead he swung his lower body around and sat on the edge of the counter.

I laughed. He was such a cute kid. “No handstand practice for me today.”

“My dad says you’re getting better. And stronger.”

That made me blush. A couple of times after my shift last week, I’d headed over to Lou’s gym, only to have Ian show up a few minutes later. We never talked about the things he’d alluded to in the massage room, but still… things were heating up.

He’d taken it upon himself to be my personal trainer, showing me which machines to use, setting the weight, helping me with my form. And that involved touching—a lot of it. He positioned my body in the machines, showed me how to move, corrected my form as I did the reps.

Once a gym employee had objected that Ian wasn’t on staff as a personal trainer, and Ian told her politely but firmly that Lou’s didn’t care enough to teach basic safety procedures so he was sure as hell not going to let his friend get hurt again. After trying to break into Ian’s rant for a few minutes, the woman gave up and retreated to the front desk. After that, no one questioned Ian’s presence again.

Ian was an excellent personal trainer, but the effect of his hands on my body served mostly to get me too hot and bothered to sleep. Each night I’d go home and replay every interaction I’d had with him that day.

A movement in front of me brought me back to the present. Cole was sitting Indian style, using his arms to lift his lower body off the counter. I’d seen him do that on a park bench, but the counter was much higher off the ground.

Before I could say anything, someone beat me to it.

“Get down from there!”

Cole and I both jumped, and for a horrible second, I thought that Cole was going to fall off the counter. I grabbed his t-shirt and he was able to set his legs down without overbalancing. My heart was beating rapidly—he could’ve been hurt.

“Why did you let him up there?”

My brain kicked in and I recognized the small but fierce woman as Lydia, Cole’s mother. As before, she was impeccably dressed, this time in a cream colored jacket and skirt. As before, she was as intimidating as hell. “I—I’m sorry, he just does that kind of thing sometimes.”

Lydia grabbed Cole’s arm and he jumped off the counter. “I’m his mother, I don’t need to be told what my son does. He’s a daredevil, like his father, and it’s up to the adults in his life to rein him in.” Her emphasis on the word adults made me feel she didn’t count me in that group.

“I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”

“See that you don’t,” she said huffily, and then turned to her son. She was such a tiny woman that Cole was nearly as tall as her. “Go say good-bye to your dad and gather your things.”

Cole scampered off, exchanging a worried glance with me as he opened the front door. Something in his expression alarmed me. The other times I’d seen Lydia pick up her son, she hadn’t given him the chance to say good-bye to Ian. So why was she doing that now?

“Miss Foster,” Lydia said, rounding on me. “From the way my son talks about you, I gather that he considers you a friend. But you’re an employee, not a friend. He’s a nine-year-old boy. He’s friends with the children at his school.”

“No, he’s not.” I gasped. The words had slipped out of my mouth unintentionally.

“What did you say?”

Hastily, I tried to reframe my utterance. “I just meant that—he doesn’t seem to have a lot in common with the children in his class. There—um… sometimes, there are some boys from his class who hang out by the pool, and he never joins them.”

“Are you saying my son is anti-social?” Lydia’s perfectly groomed eyebrows drew together.

“No, I’m saying he’s shy. It’s hard for him to approach them. And maybe he doesn’t have a lot in common with the kids in his class.”

“How dare you! He’s my son, and you know nothing about him. Contrary to what Cole—or Ian—seems to thinks, you have no stake in our family. You’re not a relative, you’re not a friend—you’re my ex-husband’s employee. As such, you have no say whatsoever in how we raise our son. So stay the hell away from them.”

“I—I would never…” I trailed off, stunned by her accusations. I knew I wasn’t family. I knew I had no say over what Cole did. Still, he was my friend, and I had eyes. I noticed things about him. And— “wait, did you say them?”

Lydia had reached the door, but now she turned to face me. “Stay away from both of them.”

“What? You can’t—”

“Yes, I can. With Cole, I certainly can. And with Ian, well, let’s face it dear. Your crush is evident from a mile away. I’ve seen the way you look at him. Watch him. You think I don’t recognize puppy love when I see it? I saw it time and time again throughout our entire marriage. Women, even some of the female officers serving alongside him, threw themselves at him—sometimes right in front of me. What, did you think you were the only one? And he laps it up. He’s a man, of course. So he always finds it flattering.

She pushed open the door but didn’t go out just yet. “But he will never think of you than anything other than his employee. Stop humiliating yourself and making everyone else uncomfortable.”

Striding off, she let the door slam shut, leaving me shaking on the other side. Shaking with fury, yes, but also something deeper. Something more hurtful.

Mortification.

I’d never thought that my attraction to Ian was that obvious. But Lydia had picked up on it, and she’d only met me a time or two. And now that I thought about it, Barb sometimes subtly teased me about Ian, too.

I groaned. Was I that obvious? The last thing I wanted was for people, Ian especially, to view me as a school girl with a crush. I was already a decade and a half younger than him. I didn’t need to act like an infant as well.

My cheeks were still red twenty minutes later when Ian came in. “Going to the gym tonight?”

I shook my head. “I think I’ll take the night off.”

“That’s wise. Two or three times a week is good in the beginning. It’s best not to overdo it.”

I nodded, pulling up a leasing screen on the computer in front of me.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Just tired.”

Ian looked concerned. “Of course. You’re working two jobs—plus it’s always hard the first few weeks of an exercise program. You need to relax more.”

I nodded, still looking at the computer screen.

“Or go out for a nice dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said, clicking a file open.

“Like Friday night.”

I was nodding so much that at least my head was getting a workout tonight. Wait, what? “What about Friday?”

“Have dinner with me. Do you like Italian?”

Stunned, I gawked at him. Was he asking me out? Or was he just a concerned friend? Or a concerned employer?”

“Yes,” I said finally.

Ian broke into a grin that was short-lived. “Yes you’ll go out with me or yes you like Italian?”

“No.” I knew I was confusing him, but hell, I was confused myself. If he’d asked me before Hurricane Lydia had descended, I would’ve said yes. But I couldn’t. Not now. Not after the things she’s said.

I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just—I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” His response was immediate.

“It just isn’t.” But I knew that wouldn’t be enough for him, so I lied.

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to.”