When I moved to LA, I was friendly with a lot of people even if we didn’t get super close. But Henry was like a brick wall. Really, I should have left him alone and been grateful. I could understand he wasn’t thrilled I was suddenly training with him.

And I was grateful, so I said, “Seriously, thanks.”

He ignored me.

“It’s cool of you to do me such a big favor.” It was true after all. “I really do appreciate it. Thank you.”

With a barely audible sigh, he lifted his head enough to glance up at me and nod before lowering his face to his knee.

Ah, his Canadian politeness was a weak point. I wondered what I could do to actually get him to smile at me. Not a fake-ass smile while we shook hands on the podium, but something genuine. Warm, even. Something just for me—even though I was very likely his least fave person on the planet.

With Mr. Webber being sick and the Olympics looming, I needed a distraction. This game could make Henry slightly less boring. I grinned to myself as I scrolled.

There was no way he’d be able to resist me.

Chapter Three

Henry

As the door thudded shut, I punched in the code to silence the mildly beeping alarm. Esmeralda’s soft meows welcomed me as she raced over from the dark living area, probably from where she was napping under my bed by the window. Or directly on my pillow.

I crouched to pet her in the ambient red light of the rice cooker in the kitchen. “Did you miss me?” I asked as she rubbed against my legs. “I missed you too.” Honestly, I preferred cats to people much of the time.

She meowed for her dinner as though absolutely starving. After I took off my running shoes and stowed them on the rack inside the hall closet, I flicked on the kitchen light to my left and opened the cupboard. Esmeralda excitedly wove in and out around my ankles.

I carefully portioned out her wet food, then after a moment’s deliberation added an extra teaspoon. The vet said she needed to lose weight, but she’d been so thin and small when I’d found her in the woods near the Ice Chalet—when she’d found me—that I struggled to deny her anything. I scooped half a teaspoon back out. There. I wasn’t breaking the rules as much.

I turned on the TV. Esmeralda gobbled down her dinner, and I pulled out leftover chicken cauliflower curry. The brown-toned galley kitchen was partly open to the living room/bedroom via a dated pass-through. If the condo was built now, it would likely be completely open concept, but it was an older building.

Since Bill’s cousin was the property manager, I rented the suite for a good price, so I couldn’t complain even if I’d have preferred sleek white counters and cabinets to the reddish brown and black, and hardwood floors to the synthetic tiles and gray carpeting.