by Erica Breyer
“Another drink?” he asked when he noticed her glass running dry. He’d tried one of the lethal little cocktails once before and knew they had a kick like a mule. She smiled and nodded, turning back to listen to the banter around them but passing him her purse over her shoulder. He had an urge to grin. There was an easy intimacy to the act that made him feel warm. He tugged a note from her wallet without hesitation. There would be plenty of time for him to pick up the tab for them later. Now, he wanted her to feel like they were comfortable together. Acting like the big-time benefactor would just make him seem like some perverted old man. He wasn’t an old man.
It didn’t take Tyson long to figure that three martinis was her limit. He’d bought the last round, and she had barely noticed it, but when there were calls for more drinks, she’d leaned back and put a hand over her glass.
“’Enough, she cried, I’m satisfied!’” Cassie called out, laughing. Satisfied… Yeah, he could work with that. It must have been an old college joke because she said it with practiced ease. She turned to Tyson. “And no more from you,” she grinned, splaying a hand on his chest. That hand…on his chest… He tried not to react, but he felt his nipples tighten. Dammit…really? “I know you bought my last drink, Coach!” Tyson shrugged ruefully. Why deny it? He wasn’t trying to get her drunk; just wanted to see her let her hair down. And that hair… If he thought he’d won the upper hand, he’d been wrong.
Tyson winked and raised two fingers towards Kevin, the bartender. Two waters. The man knew his regular drill. He’d been coming here for long enough to have established a pattern. He couldn’t function properly if he’d been drinking. There’d be training first thing tomorrow, as usual. And before he saw the crew, he’d fit in his own session. He handed Cassie her water and settled his arm along the back of her chair. Cautiously. If this had been someone like Sealie, he might have lost his hand by now. But this wasn’t Sealie…or anyone like the women he was used to. He’d brought Cassie into his world, and he wasn’t sure why…
That wasn’t true.
He knew exactly why.
And he needed to get his shit together before he screwed things up completely.
✽✽✽
By the time Monday evening rolled around, Cassie had expected another session with a sweaty kid. It didn’t fill her with breathless anticipation. But when she got out of the locker room, Tyson was waiting at the entrance. Instead of his regular sweat pants, black shorts were teamed up with his black and orange t-shirt.
“What’s on the agenda today, Coach?” she said, trying to stick with training protocol. It had barely been two weeks since she’d started coming to the place, but already it felt familiar. Most of the regulars greeted her easily – the name ‘Wallstreet’ had stuck. And nobody made her feel like she was being scrutinized, even though she’d occasionally had an audience. Today she’d ditched the oversized shirt. A bright pink top fitted snuggly over her torso, skimming the waistband of her leggings.
“Cardio,” Tyson replied, bending to tighten a lace on his trainer. Cassie turned to look at the mats in the corner, but he was heading out the door.
‘What now?’
Tyson had bounced down the stairs with the ease of familiar muscle memory, and Cassie tried to mimic him. By the time she’d reached the bottom, he was twisting and stretching with an elasticity that didn’t seem human.
“Come on, Wallstreet, stretch it out,” he said. She stopped and looked around, and he raised a dark eyebrow.
“Umm…here?” she asked.
“Yup,” he replied. “Where else?”
“There are…umm…people?” she said, still not moving. Her reply didn’t seem to make sense to him. He looked around them.
“There’s plenty of space. And they’ll go around you if they have to,” he said, still stretching.
Cassie stepped up beside him and tried to remember what he’d taught her while avoiding eye contact with the passersby. Most seemed oblivious to them, aside from a few who stepped around. Nobody cared…and eventually, she didn’t either. Minutes later, he’d aimed them in the direction of a nearby path, setting off in a ground-covering stride that left her behind. By the time she caught up, he was jogging on the spot. Cassie was wheezing.
“You bastard! You’re showing off!” All attempts at coach/student protocol were gone. He laughed and danced a circle around her.
“Maybe…” he winked, then shot off in a bigger circle. Long, lean legs propelled him effortlessly, muscles moving smoothly beneath his skin. Cassie wasn’t sure what to do next. Gawping topped the list but seemed inappropriate.
“Am I supposed to follow you?” she called, hands on her hips. She’d never keep up.
“Nah…you called it. I’m just showing off,” he laughed back at her, returning at a lope. He wasn’t even breathing hard when he stopped in front of her. Her bright pink shirt was supposed to match her gloves, but now it matched her face, and she felt like an idiot in it. The darn thing was too tight, she was sure of it.
“We’re going to do some interval training,” he said. “We’ll alternate jogging with sprinting in short stints to push up your heart-rate. It’s a great way to boost your metabolism.”
“Sure,” she said. “Sounds good.” Metabolism. Fat-burning. ‘I need that.’ She nodded. Her heart-rate was up just looking at him.
“The great thing is that you can do it pretty much anywhere outdoors. And if you come out here with me, I can touch you without Max kicking my ass.”
“Okay,” she nodded again, smiling brightly.
‘Wait. What?’
He’d already set off towards one of the paths that crisscrossed the park, and she convinced herself she’d imagined it.
Twenty minutes later, Cassie had decided that ‘Interval Training’ was a euphemism for ‘Rapid Descent into Hell’. Her lungs were on fire, her thighs were burning, and she was sure her next step would be her last. Tyson was jogging backward along the path ahead of her.
Backward.
What an ass!
She did not think he was hot anymore. He sucked!
“Come on, Wallstreet! Put some heart into it!” he called, jogging towards her. ‘Lord, those legs!’ But he still sucked.
“Can’t!” she gasped out. “I’m dead. Think I left my heart back there. On the path!” He chuckled – easily because he still had breath. ‘Bastard. I hate you.’ She didn’t. “There’s lung tissue there on the paving…go take a look!”
‘Yeah, and lean over while you’re at it, so I can kick you in the butt. If I can lift my foot that high…’
“Need a break?” he asked.
‘Are you retarded? What do you think?’
“Sure,” she wheezed out, hands on her hips, trying to remember how to inhale without choking. She grimaced and pressed her thumb into a point below her waist on the left. He looked down and frowned.
“Sore?” he asked, stepping forward.
“A little,” she replied. “It’s nothing.” She pressed harder, still wheezing. This was not her finest hour.
“Here, let me help,” he said. As if this wasn’t all his fault in the first place. She shot him a black look then checked herself.
‘Come on, Cassie, be nice.’
“Um…thanks,” she gasped. Still no breath. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. What the hell?
He’d stepped up behind her and had his hands on her shoulders. It seemed as if he was examining her back. ‘Not my ass. Don’t look at my ass!’ He ran a finger down the line of her spine, and she stood up straighter. If there’d been a chance of her catching her breath, it was gone. He’d moved his hands down below her shoulder blades, fingers splayed towards her ribcage, thumbs finding the long muscles that ran down beside her spine. He pressed down as he moved.
“Ooh!” she said. “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” Great, now she sounded like a chimp. With emphysema.
His fingers traveled further, still pressing firmly. “Ooh…Ooh— Ow!” Whatever he’d just pressed on had hurt like h
eck.
“Okay, let’s fix that,” he said.
‘Yes…let’s!’ She was still wincing. He’d turned around to look about them then stopped.
“Lie face-down and relax.”
She gawped. “What? Here? On the grass?”
“No. On the road.” He rolled his eyes.
“What?” She turned towards the road and now he was laughing at her.
“Of course on the grass, Cass.” He’d dropped to his knees.
“But…but…there are people,” she said.
“There are always people, Wallstreet. Do you need me to take you down?” Somehow, she suspected he’d do it. She clambered to her knees beside him, then lowered herself until her face was pressed into green blades. She could see ants. And a cigarette butt. Ugh. She turned her head the other way.
Tyson was straddling the back of her thighs, his hands moving firmly down her back in sweeping strokes and circles. Tendons and muscles creaked and clicked in a way that she found entirely alarming.
“What are you doing? I’m breathing in bugs!” she complained. But she didn’t want him to stop. Tensions were releasing that she never knew existed. He leaned back and positioned her onto her side, deftly maneuvering her unresisting body. She couldn’t resist – he’d killed her during the run. Dead. “Tyson! I’m not a blow-up doll!”
He snorted out a laugh. “Quiet! Relax!”
Yeah. That was never going to happen. Now that her breath was coming back, she didn’t hate him quite so much. Until he leaned down, twisted her hip sharply, and something went ‘clunk’.
“Holy shit! Oh, my God!” she squawked. An electric jolt shot through her body, and she grabbed a handful of grass. ‘That’s it! Back to hating!’ “What the hell did you do?”
He’d rolled her onto her back and was resting over her thighs again. She stared up at him, silhouetted against the light. Lord, he was beautiful. Even through the pain, she couldn’t ignore it.
“Stretch your legs down,” he said. She did, even though it meant rubbing up against him…thrilled it meant rubbing up against him. “Better?” he asked, still straddling her as she moved. This had to be the best view in the world. Her eyes widened, and she flexed through her body. It was as if something had unlocked.
“Oh! Wow!” She stretched her arms up and grinned. “That’s amazing!”
He grinned back. “Your hips were out. It’s something you’ll have to work on…and probably better to get a professional to check it out. I have a bit of background, but…” He shrugged. “I probably shouldn’t have even done that. Let’s keep it a secret, right?” He winked. Still sitting over her thighs. She was totally not complaining about that. He paused, the casual banter drawing to an abrupt halt. He pulled in a breath. “Would you go out with me sometime?” he asked.
Out of the fucking blue!
If Cassie hadn’t already been flat on her back on the ground, she’d have ended up there. Her mouth opened, but she was speechless. He was silent too, and for a moment, his face clouded. Uncertainty? It couldn’t be.
“I’m sorry,” he said, lifting himself away from her quickly. “That was out of line.”
“No!” said Cassie. “I mean, yes! Yes, of course I would!” She was still lying on the ground. Dammit, this was awkward. He extended a hand, and she took it, letting him lift her to her feet. They were face to face. “I’d like that…a lot,” she said, smiling.
His expression cleared, and he grinned back. “Great! I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Sure,” she said. What was wrong with now?
“Let’s get back to work,” he said, bouncing on his toes again and heading to the path.
‘Ah, nuts!’ she thought. Maybe she’d make him wait to get to first base.
Or maybe not.
✽✽✽
“Hi!” she answered. The call had barely had a chance to ring through, and he was set on the back foot when she picked up so fast.
“Hey, Wallstreet,” he said. Wrong angle. “Cass.”
“Tyson,” she returned. There was a moment of silence.
“Did I catch you at work?” he asked, then groaned inwardly. ‘Of course she’s at work, asshole. What the hell?’
“Yeah, but I’m grabbing a coffee break,” she said. “I can talk.” She was giving him a gap.
“You were great at training yesterday.” Oh, geez! Really? “You’re coming along really well.”
“Thanks,” she answered. “I’m enjoying it. Although yesterday I seriously wanted to kill you.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry about that. It’s gonna happen occasionally, but you’ll get better at it.” Get to the point, Killoran! “We got a three-day weekend coming up,” he blurted. “Max’s finally letting me snag a day to myself. What are you up to?”
“Just chilling, I hope. Probably catch up with some housework. Meh.”
“Can I take you to lunch?” he asked quickly, almost afraid of her reaction. He knew he’d already laid the groundwork for the invitation, but she was so damn unpredictable he wasn’t quite sure. One minute she was casual and confident, and the next she was bolting for cover. If he was honest, it was probably part of the appeal. The thrill of the chase. It turned him on.
“Sure,” she’d just said, and he felt a surge of relief. And something else.
“Great! I’ll pick you up round one? Drop me a pin to your address so I can find you.”
“Will do,” she answered. There was a clatter in the background. “Ugh…something’s come up. I have to go.”
“No problem,” he replied. “I’ll see you at training tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “I’m glad you called.” The line went dead.
‘She’s glad I called!’ Tyson grinned.
✽✽✽
“I got a lunch date tomorrow!” Cassie was singing over drinks on Thursday evening. She’d been too snowed under at work to catch up with her friends, and she was eager to share all her news.
“See! What did I tell you,” Natalie said smugly. Andy was filling her wine glass. They were pretty much joined at the hip these days. He turned to top up Cassie’s, and she put a hand over her glass.
“Gotta keep it tidy,” she smiled. “Need to be pretty tomorrow.”
“You’re always pretty, Cass,” he said smoothly. Yeah, the guy was smooth – but in a good way. He was so perfect for Nat.
“You’re absolutely right, darling,” Nat agreed. Cassie shrugged. It was great to have a private cheerleading team – particularly when she was feeling so out of her depth. “So, do you know where you’re going?”
“Haven’t a clue,” Cassie said, grinning. She’d been battling to fight down the tiny shiver of excitement all day long, and focusing on work was impossible. Her inner exec was slapping her upside the head. And then training had been torture – he’d been away for a seminar during their regular Wednesday session, and she’d skipped his boxing class at her health club that evening. While part of her felt tempted to be closer to him, another part was afraid of testing their fragile connection in front of Sasha and Stacy. Her phone pinged. He’d got her pin.
‘Thanks, Cassiopeia. Galaxy Girl.’
Her cheeks went hot.
“What? Is that him? What did he say?” Cassie couldn’t figure out who was more excited; her, Nat, or Andy, who’d already asked about private training with ‘The Killer’ three times since she’d walked through Nat’s front door.
“Got my pin,” she said, smiling. Galaxy Girl. That was cute. She loved it.
“So, did he say anything else?” Nat prompted.
“Yeah…about my training?” asked Andy. Four times.
“Nope, just said thanks,” said Cassie.
“And you went crimson?” Nat said drily.
“He called me Galaxy Girl,” Cassie blurted. Dammit, she couldn’t fight back her delight.
“What?” said Andy.
Natalie rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t get it, darling,” she said. “You’re awes
ome, but you’re just a guy…and you’re not trying to get into Cassie’s pants.”
Cassie giggled. She was still looking at the brief thread of texts with Tyson.
“You think I’m awesome?” Andy winked at Nat.
“Certainly, darling,” Nat assured him, “although…”
“Yes?” he asked.
“Why don’t you call me cute things like that?” Nat pouted.