“You’re not one of those people who’s always in the gym, are you?” I ask suspiciously. “No, this is all natural. I work very long hours on my father’s farm.” “Never mind.” “I spend every summer tossing hay bales all sweaty and tired.” “I know your dad runs a post office.” “Of course I go to the gym.” “I go to Claire’s gym,” I say, my eyes on the skin of his throat visible above his collar. “Her trainer says if I keep up the good work, I’ll no longer be dead by forty-seven.” “Sounds like you’re making great progress.”
