Chapter One

Of all the places in the world to discuss impending doom, the gym would not have been Gaby Fineberg’s first choice. A bar would have been her first choice. And yet, there she sweated—in both the external and internal ways.

“It’s bad enough Tom ended the relationship,” Gaby said through panting breaths. “But Mom blaming me is the icing on the cake—as if the whole split was my grand idea. I don’t know if I can handle more disapproval.” Not after six months of Tom “I disapprove of everything” Connors.

“What you need is the strong, silent type,” Riley said from beside her.

Gaby needed painkillers and for her elliptical program to end, not a man. She slowed down, unable to endure this conversation with her BFF while exerting her lungs to capacity, and forced her remaining energy into a glare at her friend. “Oh, is that all?” Her sarcasm held the weight of a marshmallow, thanks to her breath coming out in spurts.

Riley’s long, straight black hair swayed back and forth due to her excessive speed. She removed one hand from her machine, holding up three fingers, voice calm and relaxed, as though she were sunbathing by the ocean instead of ellipticalling in a packed gym. “One, if you go alone to Passover Seder your mother will set you up with the creepy guy who insisted on playing doctor when you were kids—”

“In Brian’s defense, he did become a doctor.”

“And all those ‘practice exams’ he thrust on you were really necessary?”

Gaby rolled her eyes and tried to match Riley’s insane pace without breaking a leg. The burning in her calves became an inferno.

“Two,” Riley went on, “everyone knows about the split. You really need to show them how well you’re doing, otherwise it’s going to be ‘oh, poor Gaby, have another matzah ball.’ And three, you damn well don’t need another man offering up false biases to your relatives, so make him silent.”

Stress over the uncomfortable situation brewed until Gaby felt the distinct pressure of a migraine against the bridge of her nose. At least it distracted her from the burning in her legs.

She glanced around the gym, where people from all ages, shapes, and sizes worked on their fitness. Some looked about as thrilled as she felt, while others were ready to challenge Riley in an all-day exercise binge. But one guy stood out from the rest. Mr. Free-Weights, as she affectionately referred to him. He’d become her anchor, someone to focus on when she wanted to get off her machine and go home. Tall, with lean muscles, the kind that stretched his fitted T-shirt and declared he didn’t have any visible fat on his drool-worthy body. He wasn’t like the others, not itching to get out, or happy to over-perform. He simply focused on his weights and his form.

What might that type of focus and control lead to in other areas of his life… Like the bedroom.

He switched to squats, those sturdy calves dusted with hair, the baggy shorts slipping further, revealing the top of a delicious “V” that she had no business yearning to see or feel. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving until Riley tapped her machine.

“You know I’m right.” Her voice softened with concern, but her legs soldiered on.

“Yeah, I know.” Gaby hated it, but it was true. Two months had passed since Tom decided he needed someone “less stiff”—his words—but in reality, he wanted someone who actually enjoyed the self-torture of triathlons. “And no health buffs. I want someone actually upset about missing yeast for a week.”

Riley snorted. “Who cares what he eats or doesn’t eat, as long as he takes the attention off your painfully single status?”

Ouch.

Gaby shifted her attention, searching once again for her happy place. Mr. Free-Weights paused and collected his water bottle. His head angled upward, and her mouth went dry—oh to have his bobbing Adam’s apple and day’s worth of stubble working against her parched tongue. Gaby bet her left boob—the bigger one—he wasn’t single.

Riley’s hand landed on her arm, and Gaby squeaked as her legs jerked, her footing slipped, and she nearly stumbled over the footrests. That would have been a first—who falls off an elliptical? “Yes! That guy is hot as hell, and I’ve never once seen him talk to anyone. You bring him home to your mother and she won’t care that you haven’t given her grandchildren yet.”

Gaby stopped moving, her aching legs cheering in relief. “How did my parental status get into this conversation?”

Riley slowed to a more reasonable speed, eyes rolling at the seemingly obvious answer. “Jewish mothers. Now go, talk to him.”

Gaby looked down at her sweat-stained tank top and the biker shorts that reminded her she needed less snacks and more gym. “Dressed like this?”

Riley leaned on the arms of her machine. “He’s sweaty, too. I bet even his sweat smells good.”

“There’s quite the radius around him, though, he could be the type who skips deodorant before working out.”

“So give him a stick as a thank you for helping out.” She pushed Gaby’s shoulder. “Go! I’ve got another mile until I’m finished.” Not waiting for a response, Riley picked up her speed, head nodding toward Mr. Free-Weights, who had bent over and, as Gaby nearly swallowed her tongue, stretched.

“Damn, that’s a fine ass,” Riley muttered.

The parts of Gaby that had sworn off men woke up and wholeheartedly agreed. She got off her machine and wiped it down with a towel. “I can’t do this. I’ll ask someone at work.”

“If you really want to pass up that fine specimen, that’s your loss.”

The whole idea screamed of ridiculous behavior. Why couldn’t Gaby go home without a date? The twenty-first century did not require she get married and have tons of kids. She could be single. If she wanted to be…

And there lay the problem—more than one day wanting someone to share a life with, to share traditions with, a part of her didn’t want to go home. She wanted to return to the place she grew up with her parents and her sister. She wanted to step into the past, but each time she went, her mother had changed something, and Gaby was hit with the somber fact the past didn’t exist anymore. Her father no longer lived, and all she wanted was a time capsule from when he did. She took dates home more for a buffer, because she didn’t want to discuss her love life when she needed to know where her father’s old chess set went, or the painting her parents had gotten in Bermuda, or…anything and everything.

Change. She wasn’t a fan.

She left her friend ellipticalling as if ellipticals were her life and headed for the water fountain. One of these days she’d remember to bring her bottle.

Maybe.

She bent over the chrome bubbler and took a long drink, then splashed some water on her face, the cold a welcome break after the heat of exercise. She didn’t get people like Riley who had energy after working out. All Gaby wanted now was takeout in front of the TV.

She flicked droplets from her hands and stepped back, colliding with someone. “Oh my God, I’m so, so sor—” Her words clogged her throat as she turned and—hello. Mr. Free-Weights had the clearest blue eyes ever, so clear and blue she leaned in a bit before catching herself. She opened her mouth, but her words tumbled and scrambled, still trapped in her throat, leaving her to stand there staring at him.

He smiled and held up his water bottle, gesturing behind her.

“Oh!” Gaby shuffled to the side. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—”

He moved before she could finish and fit his opened water bottle under the spout. Now she had a chance to ask him, only the guy hadn’t said one word. In fact, he all but ignored her.

Idiot. Get out of here.

Her feet refused to budge. A quick glance back at Riley showed her friend had caught everything. Riley held two thumbs up, and Gaby swallowed her pride.

“Okay, look, this is going to sound crazy, and possibly stalkerish, which I assure you I’m not. But I’ve got this family thing coming up, and it’s one of those where if I show up without a date, they are going to be wondering why I can’t land one. Not that I can’t land a date, it’s just that I recently broke up with this guy and…you know what, that’s not important. Bottom line. I need a fake boyfriend. There will be free food. Just no yeast. You interested?”

She held her breath, wishing she could crawl into a hole and away from her motor-mouth embarrassment. He didn’t even react. Head bent, he continued filling his water bottle. When finished, he capped it and straightened to his full height, almost bumping into her with the movement. Surprise crossed his face, as if she hadn’t been standing there babbling.

His eyebrows furrowed low, and he glanced around before holding out his water bottle.

“No, that’s not…” She flailed her hands, exasperated. Never again would she attempt at picking up a guy. “Did you hear anything I said?”

His lips pursed, and a small grin took over. He pointed to his ear and shook his head. She checked for an ear bud or something but found nothing.

Oh. Mr. Free-Weights was deaf.

Well then, he did fit the strong, silent type.