When I walk across the gym to the heavy bags, I see the long dark, sleek hair I’ve come to associate with Willow Bernard. She’s pulling it up off her neck and tying it into a high ponytail, making my fingers tingle.

Would the strands be as soft as they look?

Clearing my throat, I get her attention in the mirror and give her a nod. “Ready to kick some ass?”

Her eyes stay on mine for a long moment and I swear there’s something that passes between us. And not for the first time, I wonder if she’s thought about me as much as I’ve thought about her over the past few days.

Shit, last night when I walked her downstairs, I’d fought the instinct to ask her to call me when she got home so I’d know she made it safely. Which, again, is ridiculous.

“Can I ask you something?” she says, turning around to face me, her expression unreadable.

Nodding again, I grab a set of gloves and some tape and walk toward her. “You can ask me anything.” I mean it. Unlike her, I’d give her any information she wants.

I’m a goddamn open book.

I just wish I could say the same for her, but even her off-handed comments give me whiplash.

First, she told me yesterday at the Piggly Wiggly that she was around a lot of kids growing up. So, I assumed she’s part of a large family, like ours.

But then yesterday evening, when Gunnar asked about her family, she said it was just her and her mom, which made it sound like she’s an only child.

The mystery surrounding Willow Bernard keeps building. 

“Do you really think I’m any good at this?”

Picking my head up, I realize how close we are—so close I can see that her brown eyes are flecked with green—and also how serious she is.

And she has really long, dark lashes.

“You’re really fucking good,” I mutter as I begin to wrap tape around her wrists. 

I can see the skepticism written all over her face. “You don’t believe me.”

Shaking her head slightly, she meets my gaze again. “I’ve never been good at anything.”

The thick veil that’s always shrouding Willow lifts momentarily and I see past the hard façade. Under her hard-as-nails exterior is a girl who’s unsure of herself and looking for approval, whether she wants to admit it or not.

As a trainer, it’s my job to see those types of things and look deeper than surface level, seeking out my clients’ strengths and weaknesses.

Willow’s strengths are obvious. Her natural talent and drive are hard to miss. Shit, anyone could see it. Even if they didn’t know what they were looking for, they’d see her and think, this girl’s got something special.