I pounded the treadmill in the gym, facing the waters of the Pacific Ocean on the morning of our second day at sea. The water was a little choppy, but I was getting used to running while feeling like the floor was rhythmically dropping out from under me as we took the waves. Today, I’d see her in class, and I’d treat her like any other student. I could do it, because, that’s right, I was fully in control. With each stride, I reminded myself just how much I had this attraction completely contained.
I hadn’t taken her to my condo.
I hadn’t held her hand in the car—only at Oak Moss Grove when we needed to fake the engagement.
Faking the engagement had been a complete necessity, so that didn’t count.
I hadn’t pulled her into my lap and held her like every one of my instincts had screamed for when Brooke wouldn’t see her.
I hadn’t pushed her for more about what had happened with her parents.
I hadn’t rubbed her neck when she rolled her shoulders after dinner.
I sure as hell hadn’t kissed her when I dropped her at her apartment, even though our past kisses had been on constant replay in my head.
So yeah, physically, I had this under control.
“Hey, Cruz,” Lindsay said as she took the treadmill next to me, setting it to a walking pace.
The best part of running in the morning was that I avoided alone time with Penelope. The worst part? Lindsay was here instead. Not that I didn’t like her. She was smart, funny, my own age, and if I read the signals right, which I always did, she was interested in me.
The best thing about Lindsay? She wasn’t my student.
The worst? She wasn’t Penelope.
“Good morning,” I said, keeping a steady pace. Four miles down, two more to go.
“Busy day?”
“Nothing too bad. Two classes, and I need to work on my excursion prep, especially for Peru. That one is three days.”
“Oh, I’m free at that port, and you’ll need another teacher for a trip that long. Want me to pitch in?” Her eyes were hopeful, and as much as I wanted to say no—I hated even the appearance of leading a woman on—she was right. I needed another professor by school policy.
“Yeah, that sounds great. Thank you.” I caught movement in the reflection of the blacked-out TV in front of me and glanced up. Penelope.
“Your accent…Spanish?” Lindsay asked.
She was with Landon Rhodes near the weight equipment.
“Cruz?” Lindsay prompted.
“Cuban,” I answered, having to think about what the question had been.
“Really?”
Penelope looked my way and then back to Landon as she settled into the triceps machine. He adjusted her weights in a way that told me without a single word how well he knew her.
“Really,” I told Lindsay, trying to stay engaged in the conversation. “I immigrated when I was nine.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. Any chance you want to show me around Havana when we’re in port?” That hopeful look was back on her face, but this time I couldn’t give her what she wanted.
“Actually, I’ll be doing a class excursion the first day, and the other day I’ll be off seeing some family. You’re welcome on the class trip, though.”
“That would be so much fun! Thank you!”
The Landon kid started doing pull-ups on the bar next to Penelope’s machine, and I subconsciously counted. By the time he hit twenty-five, he had an audience of several girls on the bikes that had Penelope rolling her eyes. I hit the sixth mile and powered down the machine.
“I’m going to hit the mat for a bit. See you later?” I said to Lindsay, and her smile told me she’d taken that last part as more of an invite than a cursory nicety. Shit.
Retreating to the mats, which were about ten feet from where Penelope was lifting, I started with pushups, losing myself in the rhythm of the movement.
“You haven’t lost too much tone, but you’ll really have to work on your biceps and delts,” Landon told her.
“Yeah, I felt that when I pulled the snowmobile back. I honestly think it was pure adrenaline fueling that move.”
“You were lucky. Don’t give me that fucking look. You were. I know you’re the best out of all of us on one of those things—hell, you’re better than I am on a bike, that’s not up for dispute—but you can’t get back into the arena without the power to manipulate the bike. It’s two hundred pounds that doesn’t give a fuck what you’ve been through.”
I made it to fifty and then hopped to my feet, my gaze locking with Penelope’s as she started the machine that would work her back muscles. Her body, which she had covered in workout pants and a tank top, was perfect. She was soft everywhere I loved and toned in places that made me want to explore… Knock that off. Student. Student. Student.
Yeah, if I said that enough, maybe I’d actually get my damn thoughts on a leash. I walked over to the pull-up bar, which happened to be right in front of where she was working out.
“Hey, Dr. Delgado,” Landon said.
“Good morning, Landon,” I answered with a wave.
“Thinking about pull-ups?” he asked.
“Sure was.”
“Right on. Go with the rhythm of the ship, and you’ll be okay. It takes some getting used to.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, facing the mirror so I didn’t have to look out over the students who had begun to fill the gym. Note to self: start coming earlier.
In the reflection of the mirror, I saw Penelope arch an eyebrow at me.
Challenge accepted.
I jumped, getting a good hold on the bar, and then started my pull-ups. My muscles easily did the task—God knew I’d spent enough time in a gym for them to function at their top capacity—and I got used to the way I felt heavier in the dips of the boat, and lighter as we came back up.
Around rep twenty-two, I made the mistake of looking at Penelope as she sat at the trapezius machine. Her mouth was softly parted, her eyes locked onto my body as I sank down and lifted my weight again. Her tongue slid along her lower lip, her own weights forgotten, and I felt a second wind of energy. I could do this all day if she looked at me like that.
I hit twenty-five and kept going.
Then our eyes locked in the mirror, and I wasn’t here on the ship. We were back in her hotel room, and I had her beneath me, the curves of her perfect ass in my hands, my tongue in her mouth, her whimpers in my ear.
I jerked my gaze away, knowing those thoughts would put me in a physical situation that would be made more than obvious by my gym shorts.
I hit thirty-five and dropped to the ground, rolling my shoulders in a stretch. Without looking at Penelope, I hit the mat closest to the door and started doing sit-ups, hoping that if I exerted myself enough, I’d sweat her out of my system.
I lost count of how many I did, but my stomach was borderline sore from the crunches when she walked by me.
She dropped down just low enough for me to hear her as I held myself in plank position. “Yes, yes. We all know you did more pull-ups than Landon. Yours is bigger.”
I collapsed on my chest, laughing as she sashayed her ass across the gym and took up the treadmill.
God, that girl was going to be the death of me.
Chapter Fifteen
Penna
At Sea
“I call this meeting of the Original Renegades to order,” Pax said, lifting his Corona bottle.
We all clinked our longnecks and then tipped slightly toward where Nick sat on Skype next to Pax’s seat at the dining room table.
“You guys do realize it’s two in the morning, right? I mean, we are still in the same time zone,” Nick said, running a hand over his sleep-mussed hair.
“It’s the only time we can meet without Bobby knowing,” Landon answered.
“So whaaaaat are we doing?” I asked as I yawned. Getting back in shape meant I was exhausted by the end of the day, let alone the middle of the night.
“While w
e were home, I got called in by UCLA,” Pax said.
“Okay?” Landon prompted.
“There’s a threat of Gabe’s parents suing over what happened in Nepal.”
I sat up straight, my beer forgotten on the table in front of me.
“Holy shit,” Landon whispered, running his hands down his face. “I just saw him while we were home. He looked good—casts off and everything—and he sure as hell didn’t say anything about this.”
“It’s not Gabe,” Pax assured him. “His parents weren’t even telling him until after we left.”
“Scared we’d talk him out of it?” Nick asked.
“That’s my guess. He’d never go for this shit.” Landon swore.
“He signed a waiver,” I said. “We all did. Hell, even Leah has a waiver on file. How the hell can they sue us?”
“They’re not suing us,” Pax answered quietly, opening the manila file in front of him. “They’re threatening to sue UCLA for not supervising the Renegade Program, which they’re saying is the cause of Gabe’s injury.”
“Fuck that!” Landon hissed. “Gabe got hurt because we tried to board one of the most dangerous ridgelines in the world at twenty-one thousand feet with little to no acclimatization in avalanche conditions, and guess what? An avalanche happened. We were all more than aware of the safety risks, and we chose to ride anyway. He knows that.”
I crossed my flannel-pajama-clad legs under me and leaned my elbows on the table, resting my forehead on my palms. In the ten years since we’d started the Renegades as a lark in Pax’s backyard to the last five where we’d become a corporation, no one had ever come after us directly. Let alone a member of our own Renegade family. It was unthinkable.
But here we were, thinking about it.
“Okay, so what’s the solution?” I asked. “Brandon has one, right? If they’re not coming after us, it’s because Brandon shut them down before they had a chance.”
“Right. Our waivers indemnify us, and it helps that we all signed an additional one specifically for Nepal. But the school is another issue. They’re in agreement that we need supervision.”
“Did you tell them you own this ship?” Nick questioned.
“Yeah, they weren’t impressed. Not with a lawsuit being threatened. I talked to Brandon, guys. We’re stuck unless we agree to a faculty member to sit in a supervisory role.”
“They think we need a damned chaperone?” Landon snapped.
Pax’s eyes shot up the stairs. “If you wake Leah, we’re going to have words. She has a huge math test tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes, not bothering to tell him I had the same test slated for tomorrow. When it came to Leah, there was no speaking logic to Pax. “Fine. So we pick a faculty member to sign off as what? A sponsor, like we’re some kind of after-school club?”
“They have to be on-site.”
Landon’s beer sprayed from his mouth, raining Corona all over the table in front of us. “I’m sorry, you’re saying they have to go on the stunts with us? What the hell are we going to do? Strap Professor Lawson onto an ATV and tell him to hit the ramps? The guy has got to be seventy.”
“Seventy-two, actually,” Pax answered. He pulled a list of names and put it in front of us. “That’s every teacher on this ship. I’ve narrowed our options down to the two most likely to say yes.”
“The two youngest, I’m assuming?” Nick asked. “They’ve got to be able to keep up.”
“The two you can find some way to partially keep happy enough to let us do whatever the hell we want, or the end of this documentary is screwed,” Landon added.
Of course I knew the answer. He was over six feet tall and two hundred and thirty pounds of carved muscle. He was in better shape than most of the Renegades and had experience jumping out of planes. He was the perfect option, and the only one I didn’t want.
“Cruz,” I whispered.
“What?” Pax asked.
Shit.
“Dr. Delgado. His first name is Cruz,” I said, keeping my eyes open and honest. These guys were my brothers, pretty much the only siblings I had left, and if I didn’t have to lie, I wasn’t going to.
Pax looked down at his papers, and his eyebrows shot up. “She’s right.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Landon asked.
“Oh, come on. I know you guys think you’re the hottest guys on the ship, but trust me, girls talk, and while you’re the old-and-monogamous, he’s the new hotness. Ask any woman on this ship, including your girlfriends, and she’ll be able to tell you. Besides, sometimes he runs at the same time I do,” I finished.
The three of them stared at me like I had three heads—like somehow in the midst of all the bikes, jumps, and stunts, they’d forgotten that I was a girl.
“Dude’s in shape,” Landon said with a shrug. “I’ve seen him in the gym, and I have no doubt he could keep up with us, or even pass us up.”
If Cruz became our faculty sponsor, he’d be with us on every stunt. Every excursion. Every overnight. Between Renegade business and class, I’d never escape him. I cursed my traitorous heart, which sped up at the thought of spending so much time with him. The logical side of me knew it was the worst thing we could agree to. The sexual tension between us was heavy enough to anchor this damn ship, and if we spent that much time together, it was only a matter of time before we crossed that line again…
Or someone noticed.
“Is there anyone else we could consider?” I asked.
“Miss Gibson is the next youngest,” Pax answered.
“You guys could probably charm her,” I admitted, then sighed, knowing what was going to be said next.
“Yeah, but Delgado could keep up with us, and by the look of him, he might actually be down for the shit we pull,” Landon added.
“He’s right,” Pax agreed. “I could see Miss Gibson nixing everything that’s perfectly safe, just because she doesn’t understand what we do.”
Cruz wouldn’t back down, but I couldn’t tell them that. They’d ask how I knew about his military experience, or the fact that he had zero fear when we’d jumped from the High Roller. I swallowed as a lump fought for supremacy in my throat. I’d never had a secret I couldn’t tell these guys, never had a problem that we couldn’t all solve together, and here I was hiding the fact that I’d been trying to contact the woman who nearly destroyed us, because I missed her, and I had wildly inappropriate thoughts about the guy they wanted to bring on as our sponsor.
But I was a Renegade first.
“We ask Delgado first. He’s the best choice.”
“Agreed.” One by one they spoke the word that sealed my fate.
…
The hallway on the academic deck was packed when Rachel caught up to me. “So, Landon just told me.”
“Told you…?”
“About Dr. Delicious being our new sponsor?” She raised her eyebrows at me.
“Don’t call him that.” I looked down at my watch. Fifteen minutes until the math test I should have rested for. Instead, I’d spent my night rolling around my bed, unable to sleep, finally sitting on my deck to watch the sunrise as we pulled into the port of Cabo San Lucas. I was going to be anything but on my game for this afternoon’s stunt.
She lowered her voice. “Fine. Whatever. Are you okay with that?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Seriously? I haven’t forgotten what I walked in on. I just gave you a little space.”
“Shh!” I hushed her, knowing we were coming up on Cruz’s classroom. “You walked in on nothing.” Liar.
“Yeah, okay, and the Statue of Liberty is a knickknack. Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I just know that you usually…”
“Talk to my sister?” I asked.
“Or the guys.”
I snorted. The guys would be the last people on Earth I told about Cruz. They’d never understand, and then they’d get all protective, and crap would get really bad really fast.
But there was nothing to tell. Cruz had drawn that line.
“Miss Carstairs.” His voice came from behind me as if I’d summoned him, and I realized that we were stopped in front of his doorway.
Rachel lifted a single eyebrow at me, and I made the “what?” face at her before turning around.
“Dr. Delgado?”
Ugh, he looked good today. Gray slacks that made his ass appear in desperate need of a grab, and a rolled black shirt with a silver tie. Did he know how to wear his shirts any other way? I kinda hoped not.
“I need to see you for a second, if you’ll come in and shut the door.”
“Yeah, nothing to tell,” Rachel whispered over my shoulder.
“I’ll meet you back at the room after class.”
“Uh-huh,” she said with another roll of her eyes, but she walked off.
Doing as Cruz asked, I walked into his room and closed the door behind me. “Yes, Dr. Delgado?” I asked with exaggerated innocence.
“Knock it off,” he said, sitting back on his desk.
“Oh, this isn’t where I tell you that I need a little extra credit and drop to my knees?” I asked playfully, leaning against the desk across from him.
“Not funny,” he said, looking at me with barely leashed hunger. At least I wasn’t the only sexually frustrated one in the room.
“Why did you want to see me?”
He turned and grabbed a small stack of papers. “Tell me why I should sign these.”
All humor drained out of me like someone had pulled the drain on a bathtub. “The sponsorship papers?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn, Pax is fast.” It was only nine a.m. for crying out loud.
“Yeah, and insistent.”
“What did he offer as terms?” I asked, holding my math books to my chest like a shield.
Rebel (The Renegades) Page 14