Michael’s hands slipped from their grip on the bar, and he felt a moment of gratitude he hadn’t unracked the weights yet. He rubbed his palms over his shorts to dry them off. “Everything’s fine. Dropped her off at tennis practice, then her coach is taking her to strength training later.”
“Uh-huh.” Stephen watched, hands close by, while Michael went eight reps with the weights. “She staying out of trouble?”
“Not far enough,” Michael muttered.
“You get your hands on her yet?”
“I— What?” Michael blinked as he started to lift the outside weight off the bar. “What the hell kind of question is that?”
“The kind a friend asks when he notices his friend is in over his helmet with something and won’t admit it.” Zero remorse. Stephen gave him a hard stare as he yanked the safety clip off his side and replaced the smaller weight with a slightly bigger one. “Don’t try to act like you have no clue what I’m talking about. I’ve got radar.”
“You’ve got a woman, so suddenly you think everyone else needs one.”
“Or a man, whatever floats your boat. One love, baby.” Stephen started humming the chorus to Bob Marley’s song by the same name, just to be a smartass, before laying down for his next set.
Because Stephen was busy, Michael had the opportunity to talk without interruption. “I’m not out looking for women, you know. That’s not my goal in life.”
Stephen grunted, which Michael took to mean didn’t say it was.
“But this… this person just walked into my life, uninvited, mind you,” he added, though Stephen hadn’t asked, “and she’s flipped everything upside down. I’m struggling to keep up.”
“You’ve never struggled with a mentee before. You’ve always had the touch.”
“Touching might be the problem,” he muttered as Stephen sat up from his set.
“Oh ho, there it is.” Stephen smiled and pointed a finger, poking him in the shoulder as he stood. It hurt. “If you want my opinion—”
“He doesn’t.” Caleb walked by, giving Stephen a look that clearly said Stop running your mouth and get to work. Stephen grumbled but sat up and started changing the weights on his side for Michael’s set.
“So how’s Kat liking her trainer?”
Michael glanced up, noting his coach’s curious look. “Uh, I think she liked him. Only met with him once so far, so hard to tell. But she said she liked what she heard. I think they meet later today for their first training session.”
“Good, good.” Caleb kept standing around after Stephen and Michael had changed weights and Michael sat on the bench. They both waited for their coach to say something more, but he simply waited, awkwardly, right behind Stephen.
“Okay then,” Stephen finally said, shrugging a shoulder. “Let’s finish up.”
Michael huffed out a breath and went for his final set of bench presses, struggling on the eight like he knew was going to happen. When he finished, he and Stephen both cleaned the bar off and marked down their completions in their folders before moving to the next apparatus. Caleb followed for some reason.
“Did she say she was going to keep him? My brother,” Caleb clarified when Michael gave him a What the hell? look. “It’s his first big break, you know, working for a pro athlete. I thought she’d be the perfect choice. Kat didn’t seem like the kind of athlete to get caught up on references with big names.”
“She’s not,” Michael said softly. “You really liked her, didn’t you?”
“She was a hard worker. Hard not to like that.” Caleb shrugged as Stephen began working on shoulder presses, Michael spotting him. “She knew her way around a weight room, which is a bonus of sorts, and didn’t complain when I asked her to do something.”
“She distracted the guys with her little burpee contest,” Michael reminded him, helping Stephen rack the bar and changing weights automatically. “She can let herself get out of control.”
“Out of control is debatable,” Caleb said while Stephen laughed outright. “Far as I can tell, she was getting her work done and having some fun at the same time. The fun’s what keeps people coming back for more. If it wasn’t fun, why the hell would anyone do it?”
“Amen, brother,” Stephen said, holding out a fist for a bump from their strength coach.
Michael considered that as Caleb moved on, coaching and encouraging others around the weight room.
“If you don’t like her, then maybe you should just call your agent and send her back.”
“Like a pair of shoes that didn’t fit?” Michael asked, anger growing.
“Yeah, I guess.” Stephen shrugged. “Maybe she doesn’t give a shit about her career.”
“She gives a shit.” Michael had to still his hands from shaking as he picked up a weight. Just what he needed, a broken toe. “She loves tennis.”
“So maybe she just can’t help herself.”
“She can help it. She’s not a kid.”
“Maybe she’s stupid.”
“Fuck you,” Michael growled between his teeth.
“Whatever it is, it’s not your fault if she won’t listen or do anything you ask of her. You can’t force her. She’s not a puppet. If she’s not picking up the guidance, then why bother?”
“I’m bothering because…” Michael blinked and let the red clear from his vision enough to see Stephen smiling in a way that told him he was being jerked around. “You asshole.”
“That’s me. C’mon, you know you love me.”
“Like I love a hernia,” Michael muttered. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“The question is, what’s wrong with you?”
The second he figured that out, Michael was sure his life would improve.
Kat stood at the baseline, trying hard to focus, but her eyes kept wandering.
“Are you listening?”
Kat blinked, then looked off to the side. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Your shirt was too loud.”
Gary rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall, arms crossing in his electric-blue Hawaiian-print shirt. His lower half looked tennis-appropriate, in court shoes and soft mesh shorts with pockets. But the upper half… well anyway.
“Your mind’s elsewhere.”
Her mind was still in bed with Michael. Though she’d crept out of his apartment in the early hours, he’d remembered when she had tennis practice and had come knocking, ready to give her a ride to the tennis center. Without a single word about the night before.
For a guy who loved talking… his lack of communication was baffling.
Something smacked her on the left shoulder, hard, and she yelped. “Ow! Damn it, what… Did you throw a tennis ball at me?” she asked incredulously.
Gary nodded. “Sure as shit did, missy. Pay attention or go home.”
“Sorry,” she grumbled, then gave Thomas, across the net, who had been feeding balls at her, an apologetic wave. “Need me to run laps or something?”
“Why, you trying out for the cross-country team?”
“Wha… no? I thought I… you would… punish me?” she finished weakly.
Thomas shook his head across the net, mouthing No!
“You want me to punish you by running you?” Gary hefted himself off the wall and approached. And suddenly Kat realized the whole “crazy professor” act was, in fact, just an act. For the first time since she’d shown up at the tennis center, she saw a sharpness that hadn’t been there before. Masked by boredom, maybe some inattention, she’d thought Gary was about as useful as a Mr. Potato Head in a bubble bath.
But there was canniness now, and she realized she’d seriously underestimated him.
“You think I’m going to improve your tennis game by making you run? Because that’s what tennis is, right? Just running, running, running.” Gary stopped about a foot in front of her, and she suddenly felt three inches tall. “Might as well have you go work in an ice cream shop for all the good that will do you. You wanna run, you do it with your trainer or
yourself or your damn dog. You come here for tennis, with your head screwed on straight from the minute you walk in the door, or you don’t come at all.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Kat nodded. “Sorry.”
“Stop being sorry, for shit’s sake. Just hit the fucking ball.” He started walking back toward the wall, then looked over his shoulder. “And if you raise your shoulders again while you hit a ground stroke, I’ll rip them off your torso and beat you with them.”
“Yes, Coach.” She fought back a grin as Thomas waited for her to take her spot to work on approaches.
Michael walked into the gym on the wrong side of town, looking around the dim area for Kat. Not on any of the free weights, nor was she on any of the cardio equipment. He looked for De’Shawn but didn’t see him anywhere either. Finally, he gave up looking and started asking around. A few guys gave him the piss off look, but finally someone took pity on him and pointed toward a room in the back. If it were that kind of gym, he’d consider the walled off area where they might host classes like Zumba or yoga. But this was definitely not a yoga kind of place.
He heard the barking commands of a drill sergeant as he walked in and found Kat standing in what looked like a trumped-up, makeshift boxing ring. She wore headgear and gloves that looked ridiculous on her and bounced around on her bare feet across from a tall man Michael didn’t recognize. De’Shawn was standing beside the man, looking at Kat. None of them noticed him.
“You’re not anticipating. You can do this on the tennis court, so why can’t you do it here?”
“Uh, twenty years of experience on the court?” Kat asked, then shrieked and ducked out of the way when the man’s gloved fist flew toward her.
Michael froze, everything in him tightening. What the hell was De’Shawn doing?
“Anticipation and instinct aren’t just something you’re born with. You hone them. Sharpen them with time and use. Learning to anticipate what someone does across the net is connected to watching his body move across the mat.”
“But they’re not going to hit me with a fist when I get it wrong,” Kat pointed out, her words thick and a little distorted by the mouth guard she wore.
“You wanted help, I’m helping. This is going to do you a world of good, trust me.”
Michael knew from experience that stepping outside of your chosen sport was a great way to learn new skills or to give you an edge. It’s why so many coaches had their football players take ballet classes every so often, to encourage added flexibility and range of motion.
But this… this was dangerous.
“De’Shawn,” he said, and three heads swiveled his direction. “C’mon, man, isn’t there something else she could be doing?”
Kat’s face was mutinous, and she slammed her gloved hands together in a near-comical self-high five. “Let’s do this.”
“Five seconds ago you were arguing with the man,” Michael pointed out. “Just get out of the ring. You don’t have to prove anything.”
Her face said she disagreed with him. Because of course she did. She wouldn’t agree with him if it would save her from being torn to pieces by a pack of hungry wolves. She was too stubborn a woman.
“De’Shawn,” he said again, but the trainer ignored him. So did the guy Kat was apparently going to be sparring with.
They touched gloves, De’Shawn spoke a few words into the other man’s ear, then he yelled, “Go!”
Kat came out swinging, with zero style that Michael could see. But it put the other guy on the defensive and he took a few lunging steps back. Then went for a shot of his own. Kat anticipated, weaving to the left to avoid getting knocked in the shoulder, then jabbed out with her own glove to get her opponent in the stomach. He doubled over with an audible, “Ooof!”
Kat stepped back with a cheer, bouncing on the balls of her feet, arms raised in the air. “Oh yeah, oh yeah. Who can’t anticipate now?” she asked, grinning with the thick plastic mouth guard over her teeth. She did a little dance and started singing—badly—to “Eye of the Tiger.”
Michael realized he was smiling and forced himself to scowl when she turned toward him.
“How do you like them shots?”
“Huh?” he asked, just to fuck with her.
She rolled her eyes, reached in and clumsily took the mouth guard out. Instead of putting it down, she slipped it up and under her sports bra strap that was peeking out from her tank top.
“I said—”
“I heard you. I was kidding.”
“You can’t tell,” she said dryly, holding up her gloved hand, “but I’m flipping you off right now.”
Her trainer walked over and helped her remove the gloves and headgear. “Go get showered off,” De’Shawn said, patting her on the shoulder. “We’ll talk about the week’s schedule when you come back out.”
Kat looked between Michael and De’Shawn, obviously wary to leave them alone with each other and ample opportunity to talk about her.
“Don’t listen to anything he says,” she finally said on a sigh, pointing toward Michael before heading toward the locker rooms.
De’Shawn helped the other guy get his gloves off. “Thanks for stepping in to be a punching bag. Harder to coach when you’re in the action.”
“No problem, it was fun.” The guy was tall, lanky even, and definitely didn’t have the vibe that he worked out there often. He looked less… muscular gym rat and more preppy schoolboy who golfs for a workout. Not unathletic, just not this type of gym’s usual clientele.
“Anytime you wanna come over with Kat from the courts, go right ahead. I can already tell she’s going to run me ragged.” De’Shawn rubbed a hand over his bald head, shaking it slightly. “If she’s injured, she won’t say. She’s that type.”
“She had her ass handed to her in practice this morning. My grandpa doesn’t go soft on the first day,” the other man said, almost regretfully. “She wasn’t quite with it. Her head was straighter when she got to the gym here.”
Michael felt a twinge of guilt and wondered if he was the reason she hadn’t been all in for practice.
Then again, maybe if he’d taken the chance to talk to her that morning, he’d have been able to help. But no, he’d been too off-balance himself to give it a try. Too worried he’d say the wrong thing when his emotions were still warring each other, fighting for top billing.
De’Shawn and the other man finally seemed to realize, together, they weren’t alone in the training room. They turned and looked at Michael as if he were an interloper in the situation.
“Uh, Caleb says hi,” he said, taking a step back.
De’Shawn’s eyebrow winged up in a way that silently asked, Seriously, bro?
Kat walked back at that point, wearing shorts and a simple T-shirt, carrying a gym bag in one hand and her tennis bag with rackets slung over the opposite shoulder. He reached for the gym bag automatically, but she held it away and rolled her eyes.
“Stretch,” De’Shawn reminded her. “If you can get a massage, do it.”
Michael caught himself just before asking why she wouldn’t get a massage right now. Because the gym doesn’t have a physical trainer or masseuse on staff, asshole.
Kat gave her coach the thumbs up as the other man stepped out of the ring.
“I’ll see you in two days, yeah?”
“Got it, De’Shawn. Thanks, even though I complained. I’m sure I’ll feel it tomorrow.”
“You will,” he said cheerfully, then went about picking up the equipment.
“So you ready to head home?” The tall guy wandered over, hands in his pockets, standing beside her, way too fucking close from Michael’s point of view.
“Oh, right.” Kat gave him a slight smile. “Actually, I have a ride here. Michael, this is Thomas. My coach, Gary… this is his grandson. He was nice enough to give me a ride here.”
“I wanted to see what she was up to when she wasn’t at my place.” Thomas turned and held out a hand to shake Michael’s. His smile was sharp
, without any warmth.
“Your place… You own the tennis center?” Michael shook, squeezing a little harder than necessary. He felt an instant moment of satisfaction when Thomas pulled back quicker than normal, then felt small.
Kat seemed oblivious to the whole thing. “No, his grandfather does, but Thomas helps throw balls at me while Gary calls me lazy.” She and Thomas shared a private smile and little chuckle over that.
And Michael had never felt any more like a third wheel than he did in that moment. “Right.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back. “If you want to go with him, that’s fine. I just thought—”
“No, I’ll go with you.” She turned to Thomas and gave him a friendly smile. “Thanks again for the lift here and for sparring. I hope you’re not in trouble for staying out so long.”
“No lessons until four thirty tonight. The rug rats,” he added with a shudder. “Having a dozen four-year-olds on a single court swinging rackets around is just asking to be castrated.”
“Wear a cup,” Kat suggested with a cheeky grin, then bumped into Michael’s arm. “Ready to roll?”
“Yeah,” he breathed, thankful she’d chosen to go home with him.
They started their way out of the gym, weaving between machines when suddenly she hefted the gym bag over until it hit him in the gut. He grunted.
“You could help me out by carrying that, you know.” Her eyes were laughing as she kept walking.
He gave himself a moment to watch her sexy ass as it strutted through the gym doors out into the parking lot before following.
Chapter 16
Kat looked around the gym parking lot for Michael’s Mustang—please, oh please—or the SUV. Neither jumped out at her, but she also wasn’t a car gal, so she could have missed it. She started to scan once more when Michael’s hand landed at her waist, making her jump.
“Over there,” he said in her ear, pointing down toward the end of the lot. He clicked the remote on the key fob in his hands, and a four-door sedan in gold chirped and flashed its lights.
“That’s neither the ’Stang nor the SUV. I may not be a car girl, but I know those two things. Just how many cars do you have, Lambert?” she asked as they walked. She waited for him to walk past her toward the driver’s side door, but he just stood there, watching her.
Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats) Page 16