by D. C. Ruins
He had to laugh ruefully at himself. Any other guy would love to be in his position. What guy wouldn't love "pussy on demand"? If he were interested, he knew he could knock down all of these girls and still probably have them coming back for more—but that wasn't him. There were plenty of pretty, if overly done up, girls out there just begging for a shot with him, but that wasn't what would make him happy. He'd had meaningless sex before, and it hadn't done anything for him other than to make him feel emptier and lonelier than he actually was. He would never admit it to anyone, but Lana, his sister-in-law, had hit the nail on the head a few weeks ago during a family dinner. "You need a girlfriend," she'd said. He'd simply scoffed and waved her off, making some offhand comment about how women were more trouble than they were worth, while laughing at both her and Connor, but he couldn't deny the truth of her words—he would like someone in his life, someone he could trust and take care of, someone to take care of him. She might or might not exist; but he knew for damn sure she wasn't out in the bevy of Barbie-like whores gathered around the ring. And until he found her, if he ever did, he was only too content to keep his dick in his pants and mind his own business.
Rex and Jameson were picking up Heath's slack, though. For every girl Heath brushed off, Rex and Jameson were there to catch them and pick up their pieces. Heath sighed, shaking his head. He supposed he should be glad someone was getting something out of it other than a migraine.
Speaking of…
Heath brought his fingers to his temples and rubbed, glancing at the clock. It was about time to close up, but based on the ruckus from outside, he knew he'd have to go out there and start kicking people out.
Rex burst into his office. "Hey, boss!" he said cheerfully. "Listen, I'm gonna start sending people out of here, but I wanted to let you know—there's this cute redhead out there asking for you! I'm taking her and her friend out for some drinks after this—you need to come, dude. Sure thing." He lifted his brows meaningfully at Heath.
Heath smirked and shook his head. "Nah, man. You got it. I'm good."
"Come on, bro!" Rex insisted. "You haven't tapped any of that out there! Take a load off. At least relieve some stress."
"I'm good," Heath repeated. "You and Jameson are doing just fine without me."
Rex smirked. "I know what's wrong," he said in a teasing tone. "You're just butt-hurt since that little Italian chick never came back after you went crawling on hands and knees to say you're sorry."
"Hey, man," Heath said, rising from his chair. "Fuck you. Mind your own business."
"Come on," Rex exclaimed. "If you like her, just go see her again."
"I am not having this conversation with you, Rex," Heath said impatiently. "Now, get these people the fuck out of my gym so I can lock up and do something productive."
"Cool," Rex said, disappointed. "Guess I'll do that and then I'll go do something productive. Maybe a couple somethings." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Heath shook his head again.
"Whatever," he said. "Just make sure you wear a rubber and don't bring crabs into this gym."
When the gym was finally empty, Heath locked up and turned his attention to a punching bag. He'd give himself an hour then head home for the night. As he slugged it out on the bag, he thought about Drew. He'd never considered contacting her again after she'd made it clear she was done with the gym, but he had to admit that maybe Rex wasn't so off-base with his comment. Drew was a beautiful girl, and there was something about her that made her seem totally different from the girls that came to the gym.
Never see her again, Heath told himself, slamming his fist into the bag with more force than necessary.
Chapter Five
A couple nights later, Heath was sparring in the ring. It was a blessedly quiet night, for once, and the gym was relatively empty. He didn't know if there was some sort of special event going on that night that made Carter's so empty, and he didn't care. All he knew was that he finally had some peace and quiet.
He was sparring with Rex, and Jameson was there, along with three or four other guys. It was one of the rare nights that came along lately that Heath cherished, and he wasted no time hopping in the ring. He couldn't afford to let opportunities such as these pass him by, not with the tournament looming nearer and nearer.
Rex had started off by running him through some training drills, making him work up a sweat and work on his strength training. Heath was satisfied with how his training had been coming along over the last month and a half. With just four weeks left until the tournament, it was crunch time, but he was confident. Not over-confident—that wasn't his style. But he knew he was in better shape and form than he'd been at Ultimate Warrior with just under a month until the actual competition.
Now, he circled Rex in the ring. Rex was definitely a top sparring partner in the gym; in fact, he could compete himself if he wanted to. But for some reason, fighting wasn't really his thing; he preferred training, helping to develop other fighters. He'd used to fight for purses a couple years ago, but eventually the desire and luster for competitive fighting had diminished and he was now happy to simply train other fighters. But the man's experience certainly made him a worthy adversary in the ring, and Heath was concentrating harder than he normally needed to as he went up against Rex.
Rex lashed out with a lightning-fast jab which Heath deflected, only to take a sharp kick in the ribs. He stumbled backward but quickly caught his feet, then rushed Rex with a slicing elbow followed by a left hook, then dropped down and swept Rex's feet out from under him. He rolled backward and hopped up quickly before Rex could drop him from his prone position in the ring.
"Fucking quick bastard!" Rex called as he rose to his feet. Heath laughed at him behind his mouth guard, hopping lightly from foot to foot as he focused in on Rex's shoulder line. From the way Rex tensed slightly and leaned, Heath knew instantly it would likely be a jab coming off the left shoulder. He sent up a blocking forearm just as Rex's fist flew at him and then sent a hard push-kick with his left foot into Rex's gut. The air audibly rushed out of his lungs as he stumbled back, bouncing off the ropes. He held up a hand.
"All right, you Irish fuck," he panted. "Give me a minute."
Heath pulled his mouth guard out and smirked. "Sure, buddy," he said sarcastically. "Take all the time you need."
Breathlessly, Rex held up an extended middle finger before replacing his hand to his knee and sucking in a deep breath.
A sudden rush of cold air filled the gym, signifying the front door had just opened, and Heath glanced over his shoulder to see who it was coming to the gym at nine-thirty on a Thursday night. He did a double take as he caught a glimpse of shiny dark hair in a high, messy ponytail. A pair of warm brown eyes met his briefly, and he clenched his jaw to keep it from falling open in surprise; the last person on earth he'd expected to see was sauntering casually past the ring, toward the bags at the back.
As his eyes went over her form, he was pleased to see she was dressed in gym attire, but it was feminine. She'd apparently thrown caution to the wind now that her cover was blown, and wore a pair of form-fitting black yoga pants under a gray T-shirt that looked like its sleeves had been ripped off. He caught a flash of a bright pink sports bra through the large holes where the sleeves had once been as she shook out of her athletic jacket. Her hands were already wrapped, he noticed as she stretched her slimly muscled arms out behind her, rolling her head around on her neck. She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he gave her a half-smile and a nod of acknowledgment before turning away to face Rex again.
"Ah, shit," Rex crowed quietly. "Looks like your girlfriend came back after all. Damn, who knew she had all of that under those baggy-ass clothes?"
"Shut up," Heath said, pointing a finger at him warningly. He glanced around at the other guys, who were still crowded around the ring, but all of their heads were swiveled in Drew's direction as she pounded away at her bag, her ear buds in place. They were laughing and making low comments about her shape, her
attire. He snapped his fingers to draw their attention and scowled when they finally looked at him.
"Don't look at her," he said, a sharp edge to his voice. "Don't talk to her, don't breathe in her direction, don't think about her. Leave her the fuck alone. I see any of you fuckin' wit' her, your ass is mine. Copy that?"
There was a round of terse, disappointed nods and Heath turned back toward Rex once more, popping his mouth guard back in place. His sparring partner was openly smirking at him, cocking his head.
"Was that you having her back?" Rex asked, shaking his arms out at his side before adopting a fighting stance. "Or…you marking your territory?"
Heath glowered at him, lifting his fists and making a "come on" gesture.
"'Cause you may as well have gone over there, lifted your leg, and pissed all over her if that's what you wanted to do," Rex went on, that stupid smirk never leaving his face.
He was still speaking when Heath rushed him; he knew it wasn't particularly sportsmanlike of him to do so, but he wanted to shut Rex's dumb ass up before Drew might actually hear what he was saying. Rex took the hint as well as a hard, sharp elbow to his solar plexus and shut up, and they continued with their sparring session. Gradually, the novelty of the "new girl" in the gym wore off, and people continued to go about their normal business until Heath realized it was closing time.
The guys trickled out after trips to the locker room and gathering all their things. Rex checked if Heath needed him to do anything, but Heath waved him off and Rex left. Heath retreated to his office and toweled himself off, changing into the clean shirt he kept in the bag under his desk before turning off the light and locking the door after him. The lone sound of fists against punching bag met his ears, and he followed it around the ring to where she was still going at it.
She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and had shucked her ripped up gray T-shirt as she pummeled the bag. Her ear buds were still firmly in place, and she had tucked her ponytail into a roll on top of her head, loose strands sticking wetly to the back of her neck. He heard her sharp exhales with every punch thrown, seeing her ribs contract tightly with the pushing out of breath. His eyes traveled the length of her back, noting the indentation her spine made all the way down, the well-developed muscles there flexing and moving with every powerful thrust of her arm.
It was obvious she had completely lost track of time, and hadn't noticed Heath standing at a respectful distance behind her. He reached out and tapped the back of her shoulder lightly, quickly. He was surprised when she jumped a mile, flinched, and recoiled away from him, the shoulder he'd touched dipping low under his hand as she whirled away. Her shocked, fearful, wide brown eyes met his as she continued to back up, feet moving fast.
He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, raising his hands slowly in the air to show he was no threat. "Hey," he said, as she scrambled to pull an ear bud out. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just came to let you know I'm getting ready to close up."
She'd been breathing hard through her nose, and at his words, she visibly started to relax, her fists unclenching. He frowned slightly, knowing that her reaction went way beyond merely being startled. She'd actually been scared for a second.
"Yeah, sorry," she breathed, stepping past him and snatching up a towel. "Let me get my stuff together and then I'll get out of your hair."
He averted his eyes as she quickly mopped the sweat off her arms and torso, suddenly aware that she was dressed only in her sports bra and yoga pants, and that she looked amazing. She suddenly seemed self-conscious as though she realized the same, and quickly dropped her T-shirt on over her head. He cleared his throat and took another step back, giving her plenty of space.
"So you decided to come back," he said lightly. She nodded her head once as she zipped herself into her jacket and grabbed her bag.
"I did," she said finally. "I figured that if the owner himself would come all the way out to Bloomfield to apologize, I could at least give this place another chance." She offered him a half-smile and followed him toward the door.
"Well, I'm glad you came back," he replied. "You've got too much talent to waste, anyway. You ever thought about sparring? Competing?"
She looked shocked. "Me?" she said, gesturing to herself. "Ah, no. Not really my thing."
"No?" Heath said. "That's a shame. You could really do some damage in the women's MMA leagues."
She smirked and shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm just in it for the fitness."
"I can tell you've had some training before," Heath said, leaning against the door and folding his arms. "You ever take lessons or something?"
"I had a trainer," she said, her voice coming out softer. She glanced away. "In New York. Where I'm from. But I moved here with my family last year. So since I've been here, I haven't had any training."
"I'll spar with you," Heath offered with a shrug. "If you want. I'm thinking about putting on a women's self-defense course. You could be my guinea pig. Maybe even my assistant."
"That's nice of you to want to do that for women," she said. "But, um…no, thanks."
He didn't press the issue, but he noticed the way she couldn't look him in the eye and how she was almost mumbling. Something was definitely up with her, but now was certainly not the time or place to try to figure it out.
He pushed open the door for her, following her out into the cold night, and pulled the door shut behind him, locking it firmly before sliding the gate across to further discourage any break-ins. He glanced over his shoulder at her, noting with curiosity that she seemed to be waiting for him. He finished locking the gate and turned to face her.
"How you gettin' home?" he asked. He was planning to take the subway himself, and was about to offer to see her home. Mom would have turned in her grave if she knew he'd let a young lady walk home all by herself late at night.
She pointed over her shoulder to a car across the street with the headlights on. "That's Bunz," she replied. "She'll take me home."
Heath lifted a hand vaguely in the direction of the car. It was too dark to really see anything, but a moment later he saw the window roll down and a hand stick out, waving a greeting back to him. He nodded at Drew, preparing to turn but something in her face stopped him.
"I want to say thank you," she said in a rush. "For—for sticking up for me when those guys ran up on me. For trying to help me out. I'm sorry I brushed you off like that. And…and going out of your way to come to the café. All that was…was really nice of you. And I just want to say thanks."
He was surprised and a little embarrassed. It made him uncomfortable to hear his actions verbally laid out like that when he hadn't done anything for any reason other than to try and be a good person.
"No trouble," he said, taking his turn to avert his eyes and lower his voice. "I just don't like shit like that, is all."
He glanced at her, and for the first time, her lips pulled into a full, if close-lipped, smile. "Well…it was really nice of you," she repeated.
He nodded. "Get home safe," he said lightly. "Your girl is waitin' on you. I'll see you around."
"Good night," she replied, and as he headed off, he glanced back to see she'd made it across the street all right and was safely in her friend's car.
His mind was spinning as he hopped on the train. He couldn't figure her out. Most women he could peg pretty easily within the first few minutes of conversation, but Drew was a complete enigma to him. He was genuinely surprised at her thanking him when he'd assumed all he'd managed to do was annoy her. He was also still puzzled by her reaction to him tapping her, her unwillingness to spar with him…
He shook his head. He was probably being uncharacteristically analytical. Maybe she was just jumpy, and maybe she was intimidated at the thought of sparring with a guy.
Either way, he hoped for the opportunity to find out.
***
Drew came to the gym earlier the following night, about seven-thirty. He was checking over the dumbbells and kettle-bells by
the punching bags and glanced up at her as she walked over. She gave him a half-smile as she dropped her bag on the ground and stretched her arms. He nodded in reply and turned back to his inventory list as she set to work on the bag.
After a few moments, he glanced over at her, studying her form for a moment. Now that she wasn't drowning in oversized clothing, he could study her better and critique her form. Her previous training was evident, but it was also evident that she'd been away from it for a while. She wasn't quite as sharp as she should be, but her punches were as hard as ever.
Finally, he set his clipboard down and stepped over to her carefully. He made sure to stay within her peripheral vision, not wanting to frighten her like he had the night before. Her eyes shifted toward him automatically and he motioned for her to take her ear buds out. She complied, lifting a quizzical eyebrow at him.
"Hey," he said. "Not to interrupt. Just noticed something. When you throw an uppercut, make sure you lower your shoulder a little and throw from the hip. Twist a little." He stepped up beside her, slightly moving around toward the back, instincts telling him to keep his hands where she could see. "Can I show you?"
She visibly tensed, but nodded hesitantly. He stepped behind her, angling slightly so he was nearer to her right side.
"When you throw the right," he began, gently pressing on her right shoulder, "lower this side a little more." He moved her shoulder for her the way he wanted it to go. "Turn your hips with it and lift your heel off the ground." He knew he might be pushing it, but he let his hands settle just above her hips, lightly, and manipulated the action he wanted them to take. He nudged the toe of his shoe against the heel of hers, prodding her to lift her heel as she rotated her hips. "All the power should come from here." He patted her right hip lightly, then stepped back.
She was flushing. She nodded without meeting his gaze. "Thanks, I'll remember that."