She laughed. "You are the very definition of cocky."
"And you are the very definition of stubborn."
"I don't know that it's being stubborn as much as it's a habit."
"What's a habit?"
"My default reaction when a man hits on me."
I fought a grin and lost. "You're willing to admit you know that's what it was?"
"Yes. And the end result of my default reaction is to put it-him-in a box. It's the same box I've been using for years."
"It's probably pretty crowded in there by now."
She snickered. "Of course you wouldn't know that because you refuse to be labeled and neatly compartmentalized into my box."
"While I'm happy you recognize I don't fit, it sounds as if you're pissed off about it."
"I am."
I shrugged. "Guess that sucks for you."
"See? That's what I'm talking about. It'd be easier if you didn't have such a sly and charming sense of humor. If you acted like an entitled billionaire. If you were rude and impatient. If you weren't so awesome with my son."
I cocked my head to look at her, but she avoided my gaze.
"It's hard to be friends with a guy like you."
"Explain ‘a guy like me.'"
"A guy with that body and that face who is so genuinely thoughtful. A guy with that body and that face who makes me laugh and feel good every time we hang out. A guy with that body and that face who hasn't ever given a woman like me a first look, let alone a second glance. So when I realized that yes, a guy like you with that body and that face is interested in me, in that way, I had no idea how to handle it. Besides embarrassing the hell out of myself by pretending you misunderstood because I didn't want you to know how lame I actually am when it comes to recognizing this attraction stuff. Then going out of my way to ignore you this past week as I obsessed about it and tried to figure out what to do."
My lips curled up slightly. "Have you come to any new conclusions?"
"That I'm horrible at this and a shitty friend."
"That's not news, Rowan."
She sighed. "I know. So I'll . . . try harder, okay?"
"Try harder to be a better friend?" I said with an edge to my voice.
"Mom!" Calder yelled. "Come here."
"Just a second, honey."
"Mommy, I got soap in my eye and it stings!"
Rowan spared me a quick look. "Can we-"
"Go. It'll keep."
As soon as she disappeared, I did too.
Neither patience nor persistence seemed to make a bit of difference when dealing with Rowan. She hadn't decided whether to take that next step over the friendship line with me. Didn't matter how I felt about it, or her, or what I wanted, and that sucked. This was a clear reminder that I was better off keeping my focus trained on things in my life that I could control.
In my apartment, I grabbed a sparkling water and my keys before I headed out.
Best option for distracting myself from the oh-so-tempting Rowan Michaels was to keep myself busy and out of the building this week.
Thankfully, I had friends and family members to help me out.
Thirteen
ROWAN
"I hate Saturday practices," Daisy said under her breath.
I sat on her feet as we did partner sit-ups and I silently counted each rep.
"Hate"-she said as her chin touched her knees and rolled back down, only to repeat the motion-"hate" as she pulled herself up again.
Hate rhymes with eight . . . and dammit, I lost track of her reps. Because she was close to done, I said, "Time."
Daisy flopped on the mat and groaned.
I nudged her hip with my knee as I lowered myself to the mat beside her. "Rest while you're spotting me. Coach's bad mood means I don't want her yelling at us or adding more reps."
"Fine."
Tightening my stomach muscles, I began the exercise. I focused on breathing, trying to ignore my friend's probing stare. "You are keeping track of these?"
"I'm supposed to keep track? Shit. I was daydreaming about polishing my silver," she said dryly.
"Good thing I'm keeping track." That was the truth. Call it OCD, but I'd been partnered with others who didn't bother to count, so it'd become a habit. When I still felt Daisy staring at me, I closed my eyes.
"Time," she said, but I'd already stopped.
"Ladies," Coach said into her megaphone. "Push-up rotation starts now. Get into position and we'll do this on my count."
Another muttered "Hate" sounded beside me.
I kept my focus on form as Coach barked out numbers to twenty-four. Then we did gator crawls for two dozen reps, followed by clapping push-ups for a dozen more reps. We did five sets of holding plank for a minute and half plank for another minute. By the time she told us to take a break, the muscles in my arms were nearly spasming. I flopped face-first on the mat next to Daisy.