Chapter Twenty Four

I collapsed back onto my sofa. Pizza, a late night working, and the 30 Day Shred are not an ideal combination. In fact, they’re not desirable. Not in the slightest.

My phone rang, I reached for it lazily, not moving from my slouched position. “Hello?” I groaned into the receiver.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The British accent made me sit up. I moaned at the ache in my muscles. “Yes. You interrupted my post-workout collapse.”

“Post-workout? Does that mean I’m talking to you and you’re all sweaty?” His tone was suggestive, and I wanted to rip his face off through the phone.

“If I’m not sweaty, I’m not doing it right,” I retorted, swinging my legs around so my feet are on the floor. “Bypassing the question of how you got my number, why are you calling me?”

“Dayton wants me to invite you for lunch.” “Why can’t she call