One More Step - Colleen Hoover Page 0,53

a second I considered checking it, but went about taking off the rest of my makeup. As much as I enjoyed fixing myself up, I preferred the bare-faced reflection that stared back at me. My light brown eyes were in stark contrast to my olive complexion and my full lips, which I had inherited from my mother. There were times when I looked at myself and wondered which of my features I’d gotten from my dad.

“C’mon, you don’t have time for this,” I scolded, staring at myself.

I pulled my wavy brown hair into a messy ponytail and changed out of my fitted jeans and button-down shirt and into running shorts and a tank. I grabbed a bottle of water and was walking to the door when my cellphone buzzed in my hand. I looked down to see Shelby’s name flashing on the screen as well as the text that she had sent while I was changing. I declined the call and walked out of my apartment, knowing our conversation would be lengthy.

The studio consumed so much of my time that having any sort of life outside of it was nearly impossible. Meanwhile, life went on for my friends, who were getting married and having babies. Even my best friend Shelby, who swore she would never settle down, was going to do exactly that. I had not delivered the news about Hilarie because Shelby was going to lose it when I finally told her that the photographer was going to be me—which meant that my maid of honor duties would be handed to someone else.

I opened the door to the gym and exhaled, ready to release all the stresses of my day, when I saw him—Evan Wallace—working out. He didn’t see me at first, because he was on the treadmill reading something. I was about to leave when he looked up, and his eyes widened as he smiled at me.

He really had a beautiful smile.

“Ms. Patterson, how’s your head?” he asked as he stopped the machine. “I went by your apartment this afternoon to check on you, but no one was there.”

He looked for me?

“It’s…fine. Thanks.”

He stepped off the machine and walked toward me, stopping a short distance away. His smile was unsure, and I realized it was probably my cold demeanor. But considering our earlier encounter, I still wasn’t sure my response was unwarranted.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I really am sorry that Peggy scared you. She’s really a sweet girl, but when she’s scared, she reacts.”

“She was scared?”

“I think she was looking for me. I was taking out the trash and didn’t realize the door was open behind me.”

“Ah, that explains the no-leash thing.”

“It will never happen again,” he said. “She’s normally very calm. But when she gets anxious, she needs some reassurance.”

“Maybe she picked up on my stress,” I said half-jokingly.

“That’s quite possible.”

I scoffed playfully and pointed toward the treadmills. Evan moved aside and I set my water bottle on the holder before stepping onto the machine. He did the same and resumed his workout.

The room was silent except for the sound of the treadmill belts as our feet stomped in a soft cadence. I found myself wishing I had brought my headphones to tune out the deafening silence. I usually found quiet to be calming, giving me the ability to decompress, but this silence made me uneasy.

“When did you move into the building?” I asked, my focus on the door in front of me as I jogged.

“Last weekend. My dad asked me to take over the property. What about you?” he asked, breathing heavily as he ran.

“Me? When I did move in? You already knew my name and apartment number. Surely you know my history,” I deadpanned.

“Ms.—”

“Becca. Please don’t call me miss or Ms. Or ma’am or whatever title that comes to mind that makes me feel ancient,” I pleaded with a timid smile.

“All right, Becca. Truthfully, I know every tenant’s name and apartment number. But that’s about it. And now I know you hate dogs.”

I stopped my running and turned to face him. “Just so you know, I don’t hate dogs. I’m just moody when one sees me as a snack.”

Evan laughed and I stepped back onto the belt, increasing the speed as I resumed my jog, relaxing as some of the day’s frustration dissipated.

“Peggy is harmless,” he said.

“Okay, can we talk about this name? Peggy?”

“What about it?”

“Why Peggy?”

“What would be better? Cujo? Killer? Bruno?”

“Based on this morning, those are more

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