“Oh, he’s alive. Blowing up my phone. Mad I’m not pining over him at the hospital.” I slapped a hand over my forehead. “God, what was I thinking with that guy?”
“You were thinking with your vagina, Nat Brat. It’s okay. We’ve all been there. What’s important is that we learn from our mistakes.” She shot me a playful wink and tugged me toward the heavy wooden door. “Have you lost weight? You look about a hundred and eighty pounds lighter.”
“Ha. Ha. And correction, he weighed a hundred ninety-five pounds, according to his Instagram feed last week.”
“Must’ve been a bad fight if he’s in the hospital.”
“Don’t care. He got what was coming.” Lacey and I weaved through the tables until we found a booth in the back corner of the club, our favorite spot to people-watch.
The after-work crowd dwindled while the college kids slowly filled the dark space. Lacey and I sipped our first drinks, Barolo, of course, ordered another, caught up on our week’s events, and as per our girl-night protocol, we headed for the dance floor to work off our frustrations, celebrate our wins, and let loose—no men allowed.
We danced. We laughed. We teased. We flirted. We never left each other’s side, and when we’d exhausted our energy, we called it a night.
The Rusty Ram was a popular bar in our Belltown neighborhood that served the best pizza, had the dirtiest bathrooms, the friendliest bartenders, happened to be just around the corner from our apartment building, and the go-to for our girls’ nights because we didn’t have to drive.
We could let loose and walk home. Perfect set up.
“Lordy, that was fun.” I stepped out of my heels and scooped them off the ground, the cold cement soothing my aching feet.
“Hey.” Lacey nudged me. “Have you checked out that new gym on Blanchard?”
“What gym?” I had an unfortunate weakness for muscle men.
“Come here.” She hooked her arm through mine and dragged me around the corner. One more block, and we stood in front of a window that stretched the entire length of the refurbished brick building. The bottom floor appeared to be a gym. Above, floor after floor of matching windows. Apartments or condos, maybe.
The front door read Cadence Fight Club, and the gold logo was a simple circle with CFC in the middle. Inside, several people of varying shapes, sizes, and genders gathered around a large mat. In the center of the mat, two men circled each other, fists wrapped, bodies glistening with sweat.
One man, blond and beefy, landed a strike to his opponent, whose back was to me. And what a glorious back. Broad shoulders, slim waist, muscles that rolled and bunched with every move. He bounced from foot to foot, his calves taut and strained. His dark hair curled at the ends in a cute little flip, its boyish charm at odds with the brute force he possessed.
While the blond was larger, his muscles thick, the dark-haired man dominated the space, moving with the grace of a dancer, taunting his opponent.
I slipped my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture because the scene was surreal. Such beauty amidst the violence.
Blondie swung again. Dark and Dangerous ducked and then struck Blondie in the gut, making me wince. As Blondie doubled over, Dark and Dangerous backed away, still bouncing. He danced around the other side of Blondie, grace, rhythm, and raw sex appeal, his face finally coming into view.
My gut clenched. My heart raced. My lungs ceased to work. I gripped Lacey’s arm for balance.
The man was fit, his sweaty skin stretched over finely honed muscle. Dark chestnut-colored hair. Regal nose. Full lips. But those eyes. Dark with thick lashes. Sweet baby Jesus.
He shot a glance our way, rolled his shoulders, and dropped his gaze back to Blondie on the ground, then his head jerked up. His arms fell to his sides and those mesmerizing eyes locked with mine.
For the second time that day, the man stared at me like I was the light at the end of his tunnel, his sunrise and sunset, his morning bacon, his nightcap, his precious. My insides warmed, cheeks blazed.
“Ooh, girl.” Lacey blew a low whistle.
What luck. Twice in one day. That man. The way he looked at me. Had to be fate. Right?
I froze in place. Mere seconds passed, yet an eternity stretched between us, my future revealed, the stars spreading their arms and pointing to my destiny, toward the man behind the glass, the dimpled Adonis.
He was the one.
He told me so with the heat of his gaze.
Just as I found the courage to smile, he was tackled from behind and thrown to the ground, our connection lost. My lust haze lifted and, without looking back, I shoved Lacey forward and left that gym behind, hurrying my pace.
“Oh, my,” my best friend squealed. “Did you see that guy?”
“Which one?”
“The big one with all that sexy blond hair. Dios Mio. Did you see those biceps?” Lacey fanned herself with her free hand. “We need to join that gym.”
I’m not sure why I refrained from telling her that Dark and Dangerous was the man Holden had scuffled with during my attempted breakup speech. Maybe I got a certain thrill from keeping that little secret to myself. “Looks like a fight gym.”
“So? I’ve always wanted to give boxing a try.” Moving in front of me, she raised delicate hands and threw a fake punch, bouncing on her feet, her ample bosoms nearly shaking free of her push-up bra.
We were polar opposites in shape and size. Lacey stood four inches taller than my five-foot-three, had curves that conjured fantasies, and silky raven hair that hung to her small waist and seemed immune to common annoyances such as frizz or split ends.
“I hate fighting.” I dropped my shoes to the ground and wiggled my feet back into the leather sling-backs.
Lacey grabbed my arm to steady me. “But you’ve got a thing for gyms and the men who frequent them.”
“Not after today,” I assured her, finding my balance and continuing toward home.
“Oh, come on,” she pleaded, hands steepled. “I have to meet that guy. He was gorgeous.”
“I’m not spending money on a new gym when I’m perfectly happy at the gym I’ve been going to for over two years now.”
“Might I remind you that Holden spends fifteen hours a day at that gym?”
“Good point.”
We reached the entrance to our apartment building and giggled our way up the stairs, shushing each other, then laughing harder. I hugged her goodnight at her second floor apartment, then made my way up to the fourth where I resided.
A large, unconscious lump of drunken testosterone sat slumped against my door, his face a mangled mess, lip cut and swollen, both eyes boasting varying shades of bruising, and a ridiculous bandage wrapped around his head and under his chin. Thank God, I’d never given him a key to my place.
Funny, the man he’d attacked hadn’t a mark on him that I could tell. Maybe I should’ve stuck around to watch the scuffle.
I rolled my eyes and considered calling security. Instead, I grabbed the half-empty bottle of Jack out of Holden’s fingers. He wasn’t a drinker. If he woke up and finished that fifth, there was a good chance he’d choke to death on his own vomit, or walk in front of a moving bus. Couldn’t have that on my conscience. “Sleep it off, you big lug,” I whispered, then turned around, headed back downstairs, and spent the night on my best friend’s couch.
“You actually joined that gym?” I grabbed the pink bakery box out of Lacey’s hand and closed the door behind her, inhaling the sinful chocolate aroma.
Mom butchered the lyrics to “Gooba” from the laundry room. I rolled my eyes. Lacey laughed.
She still wore her workout clothes, but somehow looked fresh as a daisy, hair piled on her head in a perfect messy knot, red lipstick, eyes bright. “Of course, I did.”
Lacey James. Hopeless romantic. Nobody deserved an epic love affair more than my bestie. At age ten, she lost her mother to a tragic train accident. Her father fell ill shortly after. Lacey, the most selfless person I’d ever met, had spent
her late teens and all her college years taking care of her ailing father. Mr. James had done his best to raise Lacey right. He’d never remarried and spoke of his wife daily. The doctors had never been able to diagnose his illness, but as the years passed, he withdrew more and more until eventually he died of what I believed to be a broken heart.
“Good for you. Did you meet Blondie yet?”
She followed me into the kitchen. “No. But he’s there every day. I’ve caught him staring at me, and he’s smiled at me three times.”
“So, go talk to him.”
“I’ve tried.” She huffed, dropping her keys on the counter. “I just don’t know how to do this.” Lacey rarely dated. First her father, and now her job as an HR Assistant took most of her time.
“Just do you. You are the most compassionate, funny, gracious person I know. Be yourself, and you’ll be swatting men away like flies.”
“You should come with me. I’m always braver when you’re by my side.” She threw an arm around my shoulders, giving me a hip bump. “Come. Just once. There are hotties everywhere.”
“I’m on a hottie hiatus,” I reminded her, before kissing her cheek and ducking free of her hug. “But I do need to get back into the gym.”
I’d avoided my daily workouts for one reason and one reason only—Holden.
Two weeks had passed since our breakup. Twice he’d shown up at the bank, and I had pretended to be in a meeting. After day three, I’d blocked his number and changed the security code to my apartment building.
I considered accepting Lacey’s offer to join CFC, but Mr. Dark and Dangerous used that gym, and I wasn’t sure I would survive another encounter with his smolder.
Ugh. My body tingled in all the wrong places just thinking about that stranger.
No, I would not join CFC and further humiliate myself. And even if the guy was interested, my plate was full. I had a corporate ladder to climb. I was currently a junior associate, the best at crunching numbers, and had a sharp eye when it came to assessing risk management, but what I wanted and where I thrived was landing the clients, sealing the deals on corporate accounts. Not an easy feat considering I was a young female in the banking industry. Work was my priority.
Avoiding any commitment to the gym, I changed the subject. “You’re late.” I glanced at the clock. “You’re never late.”
Sunday dinner with my parents was a longstanding tradition. Lacey had only missed one dinner in four years, and only because she’d had a bad flu.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Her doe eyes widened. “You’ll never guess who I ran into.”
Mom came around the corner, carrying a bottle of wine, then stopped short when she spied Lacey. “Who’d you run into?” She pulled both of us into a hug. “Do tell.”
Dad called from the dining room, “Gossip after grace. I’m hungry.”
We joined Dad at the table. We prayed. Before my knife hit the steak, Mom said, “The suspense is killing me. Who’d you run into?”
“Victoria Ford,” Lacey blurted.
Dad cleared his throat. Mom choked on her merlot.
“Oh.” Last name I’d expected to hear. My gut twisted into painful knots. “I thought she moved across the country.” My fork suddenly weighed a thousand pounds, and I lowered it to my plate.
“Get this.” Lacy wiggled in her chair and leaned closer to me. “She’s engaged to some uber rich guy, an heir to some real estate or retail fortune or something like that. She couldn’t stop flashing her ring.”
The room darkened and my stomach sank, but I blinked my best friend back into focus. Victoria Ford. Beautiful, sociopathic bully. The girl who had tormented me for years. Grade school through graduation. Memories pelted my psyche, a cold chill prickling my skin. She could only continue to taunt if I gave her the power. I would not concede my power ever again.
“Well. Good for Victoria. Hope she gets all the happiness she deserves.” I studied my steak, the crust of caramelized spices, the juices dripping down the sides.
One deep breath. Release the negative energy in a slow exhale.
Time to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Tell Mom and Dad about your new love interest.”
Mom jumped all over the subject change. “Who? What? What? What? Did you have a date?”
Lacey gave Mom the lowdown on her gym crush. I chewed my sirloin with gusto. Dad eyed me warily but kept his mouth shut. Good man.
Lacey drove me home since I’d helped Mom polish off the second bottle of wine. At my door, she said, “Are you okay? I’m sorry I brought up She Who Shall Not Be Named.”
That made me laugh. “It’s okay. I just haven’t thought about Victoria for a long time.” I tried, and failed, to get my key into the lock.
“Well, Seattle’s a big city. Chances are we’ll never run into her again.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right. And if I do, well? I don’t know what will happen, but we’re adults now. I’ll be an adult.” After six years of therapy, I could survive an encounter with Victoria. Life would be peachier, though, if I never had to look at that face again.
After the third attempt at my lock, I managed to open my door.
“Do you need me to help you get in bed?”
“Naw, I’m good.”
Hands to hips, Lacey stared at me.
“What?”
“I just love you so much, Nat Brat.” She pulled me in for a squeeze.
“Love you more, Lacey Lulu.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” I repeated my morning mantra as I jogged down the stairwell, my Free People booties making a terrible racket on the cement steps, an ungodly echo ringing my ears.
I’d overslept. Thanks, Mom, for the wine.
The elevator was under repair, hence my morning jog down four flights of stairs. My head buzzed, pounding something fierce, and my stomach threatened punishment. I pushed through the nausea, adrenaline kicking in.
If I skipped my morning coffee and cut through two alleys, I could still make it to work on time. Although, starting work without my coffee would not be a good idea.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I slammed through the back exit of my apartment building. Speed-walked down the brick alley while breathing through my mouth to avoid the urine stench. Narrowly missed a head-on with a produce delivery truck, then turned on the next corner and waited impatiently for the crosswalk light to allow me safe passage.
I’d made it across the busy street and was two buildings from the bank when a large figure caught my eye. I stopped dead, my heart racing.
Holden stood on the sidewalk, leaning against the bike rack, arms crossed, head down. Chin-length hair tucked behind his ear. Thank the good Lord, he hadn’t seen me. I turned on my heel and raced around the corner, running smack dab into a steel-hard figure.
“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” I rubbed my nose, my eyes watering something fierce.
The deep voice penetrated my body like a possession. “Whoa. Sorry.” A long pause, then his chest rose and fell. A smudge of my lipstick marred his blue and silver medallion tie. “Are you okay? Wait…you?”
Righting my glasses, I lifted my chin to see the face of the man that held me steady. Confusion, or maybe curiosity, knitted his brows. Thick dark lashes almost overshadowed his piercing eyes, more gold than brown. Then I looked at my arms, because where he gripped my biceps, his thumbs rubbed slow circles, as though he’d soothed me a thousand times before. Like we were familiar. Like I was his and he was mine.
The suit under his wool coat was crisp and clean, and he smelled like expensive cologne, citrusy and sensual. I braved another gander at his face and, dammit, there it was again, that beautiful, wanting, knowing, needing gaze.
I was hungover, out of breath and, oh, God, lighter than air in the man’s grip.
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Do I know you from somewhere? I mean, other than the coffee shop?”
Speechless, I moved my head back and forth. He had a lovely mouth. Full lips, the bo
ttom slightly larger than the top. Would he taste as good as he smelled?
“Are you okay?” he asked, his fingers curling into the soft wool of my blazer, his voice calm, warm, and alluring.
Chalk it up to insanity, lack of sleep, lust, or destiny—but most likely insanity—I rose high on my toes, slapped a hand around his neck, and pulled that man in for kiss. I couldn’t not kiss him. We were brought together that very moment in time for one purpose and one purpose only. A kiss. I knew it in my soul.
His lips were soft and smooth. He tasted like mint and coffee, his flavor registering at the same time I realized he’d stiffened, dropped his arms, and wasn’t returning the affection, but pushing me away.
Stumbling back a step, I brought a finger to my lips. “I’m— Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
I turned on a dime and dashed back the way I’d come.
“Wait!” he called.
Appalled, I moved forward, my lips singed, my ego bruised.
Holden came my way the moment he spotted me. I shoved right past the crazy brute and had made it to the front door when he grabbed my shoulder and swung me to face him.
“Baby, please, let—”
My palm met his cheek with a loud crack. Every bone in my hand protested, white-hot pain jetting up my arm. Holden didn’t budge, but he did let go of my bicep.
“Leave me alone,” I whisper-shouted.
I turned and left him to stew.
I made it to work with one minute to spare and one hundred percent of my spirit drained.
Cole
“You gonna talk to her, or what?” I slapped Ellis on his back and nodded toward the hot little number who’d joined CFC a few weeks ago. The woman obviously had a thing for Ellis, sneaking glances, turning down the horde of men who’d made a move.
She wasn’t the only female member of our gym, but she was the only one who incited locker-room porn stories. Fuck. I swear men were worse than women when it came to gossip.
“Back off, bub.” Ellis shoved me away and upped the ramp on the treadmill. “I’m playin’ it cool.”
L.O.V.E. Page 2