by H. Maloney
He hooks his thumbs in his pockets and gives me a small smirk. “Thanks, I owe you one. I’ve only had the bad luck of waking him up once before.” He shakes his head. “That asshole took a swing at me. After that, I swore I’d let him be woken up by the grenade that was about to land next to him before I tried to do it again.”
I laughed. “Luckily, he’s never taken a swing at me. I’d have shoved my boot so far up his ass I’d carve him a new digestive tract, but really it’s easier to do it from the doorway with about ten feet of safe distance from his spastic self.”
The guy is kind of a mess when he’s startled. I have no idea how Allie does it. Probably chucks shit at him from across the room to remain out of the line of fire.
“Well, thanks for the bravery on my account.”
“You’re welcome. I’d never turn down a damsel in distress,” I tease. Pulling two bottles of Shiner from the cooler, I hold them out to him. “Here. A gift for the dragon, and one for the damsel.” My smile widens. He chuckles, and the sound warms my insides. He reaches for them and our hands brush mid-exchange. My nostrils flare and I can feel the blood rush to fill my face. My eyes snap to his to see if he feels it too, and the corner of his mouth is tipped in a small, but secret smile. He’s either laughing at my face now matching the color of my hair or maybe, just maybe, he’s getting the same thrill out of this that I do.
With a wink, he walks off towards the office, beers in hand.
I lean my elbows on the bar and rest my head in my palms, staring at his disappearing backside. It’s such a nice back. So wide and well defined, accompanied gloriously by his toned ass and thighs. Man, I do not know what it is about a man’s thighs, but muscular ones always get my panties wet. I guess it could be worse—I could have a foot fetish. But then again, maybe I do. I definitely wouldn’t turn away the opportunity to stare at his feet. I know for a fact they’re wide and—
“Ouch!” I gingerly rub the back of my head where Allie just slammed her open palm against it.
“Quit drooling, you nut. It’s downright creepy.”
“But his feet—” I whine.
“Nope. No completing that thought. I love you, but it’s too weird. Even for me.”
I stick my tongue out at her, but her expression turns serious. “When are you going to make a move on that boy? It’s been a year and a half, already.”
“Actually, it’s been one year, four mo—” I break off laughing as I try to duck her next attack. I’m just making that up to mess with her. It has been a year and a half, give or take, since he started coming here. Or, more to the point, since I’ve had a thing for him.
“Exactly, you creep-tastic perv! It’s time to do something,” Allie demands, squaring her shoulders. Shoot, maybe I was rash in calling Wiley the dragon earlier. Allie looks like she’s ready for battle herself.
Sobering up from my previous playful attitude, I look around to make sure everyone has left before I have this conversation. Allie already knows about my crush on him, since I’m not exactly the type to suffer in silence, but I still don’t want the rest of the world to know.
Seeing the coast is clear, I turn back to her. “I don’t know, Allie. I’m not sure I’m ready to put myself out there like that. I’m kind of thriving off the brief encounters for right now. And, personally, I’m hoping these feelings may go away just as quickly as they came on.” Booyah. My middle name should be ‘Practical.’ I can live off the touches for now until they stop sending shocks through my system. No harm, no foul.
Allie doesn’t know why I’m holding back, but I’m sure she’s figured out something significant has happened to make me hesitate. After all, Declan does present the perfect picture of boyfriend material. He’s gorgeous, charming, and funny. More importantly, Declan doesn’t use everything God gave him to help him nail anything that crosses his path with more estrogen than testosterone. Which says a lot about his character.
However, these things that make him so great also make him incredibly threatening to me. From hard-earned experience, I’ve learned the person someone presents in public isn’t necessarily the same person when the audience is gone. What if I fall for him and history repeats itself? Or worse yet, what if I fall for him and he is everything he seems to be… and doesn’t fall for me?
I’ve only been on one date in the three years Allie’s known me, and that was her brother. I didn’t even want to go but I knew he wouldn’t present a threat in the long run, so it was really just about appeasing Allie.
She shakes her head at me, sharing my tortured expression. “That’s ridiculous. You started crushing even when you’d had zero significant interaction with him, so it would stand to reason that your feelings will continue with zero significant interaction with him. To break the cycle, for better or worse, you have to approach him. Spend time with him and learn to slay him, or learn to drop him.”
Wow. I just got out-logic-ed. I don’t think I like it.
I purse my lips in distaste. “I’m not sure I could take it if he didn’t feel the same way about me.” It would be a huge leap to put myself out there and be that vulnerable. My self-confidence has come a long way, but even a three-hundred-pound linebacker could still be hurt if you hit him the right way.
She starts massaging her temples, exasperated. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you? Like you legitimately do not know?”
I start turning up chairs on the tables, hoping she gets the hint that I don’t want to talk about this anymore. “What am I supposed to know?” I ask, preoccupied.
Allie studies my face a moment and eventually waves my question away. “Whatever. You’ll find out eventually. But anyway, it’s exactly how you’re living now. You’re living your life without him actively returning your feelings.”
I finish upending the chair in my hand and turn to Allie. She’s not getting the difference. “Yes, but he doesn’t know me now, not really.” I say it slowly and clearly, trying to spell it out for her. “And I don’t technically know how he feels about me. He could have secret shrines in his closet dedicated to me, or he couldn’t care less if I fall off the face of the Earth. But to get up close and personal and bare my soul, only to have him reject me for it? I don’t know that I can handle that.”
“I think you’re underestimating him,” she says slowly. “Think about what made you lose your head for him in the first place. You didn’t have to read his preteen diary and current tax statements to decide that he’s earned his very own beehive in your belly, did you?”
I close my eyes. Shit, she’s right. Again. Damn, I hate when that happens. I didn’t have to get close to him to know he was going to affect me like no one ever had. I think back to the time I first took notice of him and sigh just remembering what it did to me. While he had been to the bar a few times, my fate was sealed the first time I ever saw him smile. Really smile, I mean, not just a smirk or a polite response. I don’t even know what or who had caused it, but it was huge and warm and showed pure, unfettered happiness. His warm green eyes crinkled at the corners as a loud, surprised laugh tumbled out, a laugh that still makes me tingle just thinking about it. I remember thinking it sounded rusty, definitely underused, and I wanted to be the one to fix that. The happiness painted on his face in that moment was the essence of pure joy, and I wanted as much of it as I could get. I wanted to be the reason that sound filled my ears.
That same compelling feeling compounded with every exchange, his touch bringing every cell in my body back to life. Every smile, every brush of his fingers, and every breath I feel on my shoulder as I purposely reach across him makes my heart leap to my throat and my lungs cease to function. His pull is downright magnetic.
I open my eyes again to see Allie giving me a knowing smile at the adoring, dreamy look that’s taken over. She grabs my face between both hands, searching my eyes. “You’re cheating both of you if you don’t at least try to see if this attraction means anything.” She pulls her hands from me now that she’s driven her point home.
Taking her words into consideration, my heart starts to pound. Now that she’s got me considering leaping off the high dive, my adrenaline is waking up. I wipe my suddenly sweaty palms against my jeans, “Maybe. But… I’m not even sure where to start. Or how to start, for that matter.”
“You’ll figure it out. Of course, it won’t be easy, but don’t you think it’ll be worth it? If he falls for you, you’ll have an amazing story to tell your grandchildren. Really play up your bravery. Otherwise, at least you won’t be on your deathbed plagued with the ‘what-ifs.’”
“Thanks, Ms. Miyagi.” Aw, snap. She pulled out the hardcore philosophical wisdom.
“You’re welcome, grasshopper.” She shrugs and finally lets the subject drop so we can finish up and go home. She knows she’s gotten me thinking, but the rest is up to me. Can I do it? Sacrifice the small pleasure I get now and risk not having it at all if it doesn’t turn out the way I would hope?
CHAPTER 3
MEG
My phone goes off at ten in the morning. With a groan, I reach over to swipe my screen and turn off the alarm before promptly burying my head in the pillow again. Stupid alarm. Wait… Why did I set an alarm? This is about the time I realize there’s yelling going on in the distance. Dammit. I had answered a call. Whoever it is better be dying. Without looking at the screen, I put it against my face and say as much.
“Well, that’s one way to greet the one person in the world who has the best news ever.”
“Do you have my Publishers Clearing House check?”
I hear Allie sigh loudly in annoyance. “You know I don’t.”
“Then thanks for playing, but I’m hanging up now.” I am not a morning person. But before I can hang up, I hear her scream, “You hang up this phone right now and I will punch you in the throat, woman!”
Ouch. She’ll do it too.
I sit up against my headboard and get comfortable. This is obviously not going to be over quickly. “Fiiiine. What’s going on that you have to wake me up so early?”
“It’s not that early. Besides, it’s a beautiful day. Throw back the curtains and enjoy this gorgeous weather while it lasts.”
I can’t keep from rolling my eyes, even if she can’t see me. If she woke me up just to tell me to enjoy the sunshine I’m hanging up on her. Threat or not, she knows I’m not my best before caffeine. “Allie, get to the point! I need coffee, or better yet, to be comatose again.”
“Geez. All the bitch.” I ignore that comment mostly because she’s right. “Well, remember that conversation we had? About Declan?”
“Yeah.” Of course I did. I’ve had trouble sleeping with the decision weighing on me, which is why I was a mite extra cranky today. Of course, seeing Declan last night got me all hot and bothered, which isn’t helping either. Now I’m horny, confused, and afraid. Perfect.
“Well, I found a way to start your hostile takeover.” She pauses for dramatic effect, and I let her, hoping she’ll land her plane soon. “Declan. I know of a way that will let you spend more time with him. Close. Physical. Contact. No way will he be able to resist you when you’re all up in his grill!”
Oh, hell no. I run frustrated fingers through my hair and grip my scalp. She better not be implying what I think she is. She’s been threating this since day one. “I don’t care that you’ve finally figured out his favorite strip joint. I’m still not stripping, Allie.” Her theory is that men can’t resist half-naked women, and being a stripper is the most logical way to get there. I always thought she was kidding, but now I’m not so sure.
Allie merely laughs in response. Oh, good. I’m glad we’re past that. “No, unfortunately, I still don’t know that. Yet. But you know how he owns that gym downtown? Corps Strength, I think.” I grunt in acknowledgement for her to continue. “Well, last night, he gave Wiley a stack of flyers to pin to the bulletin board at the bar. He left a few on the table when he got home last night. And do you know what those flyers said?”
I’d been able to casually glean some information on Declan from Wiley in the past, so I knew he owned the gym. I also knew he served in the Marine Corps for eight years, through four tours. Turns out, he served with some of the guys from the club, including Wiley, which is where their friendship originated.
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus and play along. Really only because I know it’ll be required of me before she gives up. “I don’t know. He’s looking for a bartender for his juice bar?” Does his place even have a juice bar? Is a server of juice even considered a bartender? I didn’t think so, in either case.
Regardless, she’s satisfied with my guess and moves on. “Nope!” she says, popping the p. “He’s decided to offer classes! Classes like Krav Maga…” she draws out slowly.
I immediately catch on, almost leaping from the bed. I’m definitely awake now, and definitely excited. “Oh, my God!” I yell. I start squealing and Allie, bless her heart, squeals with me.
I almost can’t believe it. This could be it! This is fate handing me a freaking bone and telling me what the result of my coin toss was. I can stop agonizing over deciding my potential future torture—rejection, or lack of action.
Call me a sucker, but I call that a sign.
CHAPTER 4
MEG
I’m sitting in my car outside the gym, giving myself a pep talk that would make the Gipper proud. I signed up for the classes at noon during the week. I’m sure the time is meant to draw in the lunch crowd, people looking to make their lunch hour productive, but I’m hoping it won’t be too crowded. Increased exposure will make for increased efficiency. Taking one final deep breath, I climb out of my car and head for the entrance.
The young guy at the front desk greets me and points me to the locker room where I can store my stuff. Along the way, I gawk at the goings-on around me. There are several mats in the center on which half-naked men in pads are sparring. Fitness machines line one wall, and free weights line another. The back wall is made up of mostly glass, and you can see inside the exercise rooms. The whole place looks so sleek and modern. I should have started working out here way before now. This place is really nice. No juice bar though. I was right.
In the back of one corner is a hallway with various other doors—offices, I imagine—and finally the locker rooms; women on one side of the hall, men on the other. Quickly storing my stuff, I walk back to the aerobic room assigned to the class and jump right into the crowd as Declan starts to address his students.
I follow along, attempting to keep my attention on the instruction more so than the instructor. We do some warm-ups that have me breathing heavy by the time we finish, and I know it’s not from my lack of endurance. When I first moved to Houston, I enrolled myself in several self-defense classes for peace of mind. I don’t take them as religiously as I used to though; I must be becoming complacent. But I do keep up with my cardio. Which leads me to believe it’s Declan’s basketball shorts lifting each time he changes stances, showing me his bulging quads, that has me incapable of even breaths. Every time. Focus.
About halfway through the class we’ve been paired off to practice exercises, each taking turns to hold the pad the other wails against. Well, I use the term ‘wail’ loosely, as I’m paired with a middle-aged man, Robert, who would probably be more at home in a pottery class.
Declan walks around the room, analyzing and correcting our forms. When he gets to Rob and me, my anxiety ramps up. Robert has the pad and I’m practicing hammer fists. Correction—attempting to practice hammer fists. It’s not pretty. I swear I know what I’m doing, but Declan being so close is throwing me off. He repositions my arm and I try to control my breathing, which suddenly wants to stop. He holds my arm up parallel against his, to correct my form, his warm, hair-roughened skin causing goose bumps to break out across my body.
“You don’t want to go out of this range; this is where you’ll be the most stable. You’ll be able to build up enough energy to hurt your attacker without inflicting damage on yours
elf.” He’s looking at me as he talks, and I put my game face on long enough to absorb. When I try again, he lays his hand on my shoulder briefly and says, “Good. Keep working. And harder, don’t be afraid to hurt the pad.” With that, he moves on, but I still feel the warmth.
Declan aside, I really am enjoying myself during the class. He’s a great teacher and motivator. There’s nothing worse than being taught by someone who doesn’t want to be there.
When Declan dismisses the class, I plop down on the floor to cool down and attempt to stretch my sorely abused muscles before they tighten up on me.
“My hero. Glad you could make it today,” I hear Declan tease, referring to our banter a few nights ago.
I look up from my toe touch and grin at him. “We can’t all be Clark Kent; most of us heroes have to keep practicing. Got to stay in shape for the next time you faint.”
He barks out a surprised laugh and crosses his arms across his chest, clearly getting comfortable. “Oh, I fainted, huh?” I move to stand and he holds his hand out to help me. I don’t hesitate to take it. His hand is huge and warm and engulfs mine. When I’m on my feet, I try to release his hand, but he doesn’t let go.
I gulp, eyes glued to our connection. Trying not to focus on our rather distracting physical contact, I say, “Hell yeah. That’s the story, and you won’t convince me otherwise. And don’t forget, I serve people a heaping helping of my bullshit with a side of alcohol, so watch out.” I shake my head sadly. “Your reputation is as good as destroyed.”
Slowly, he releases my hand, nodding, “Well then, at least I still have you to fight my battles for me. You going to fight Troyer for me next month?” Oh, hell no. I’m going to have to pass on that. Jonathan Troyer bears a startling resemblance to Dwayne Johnson. Seeing my eyes widen, he continues, his turn to really warm up to the teasing. “Oh, yeah. You know, this could work. You’re tiny, but that’ll be to your benefit. You’ll be so quick you could have him unconscious before he even knows the bell rang. They’ll call you Meg ‘The Viper’ James.” He brings one hand up to rub his jaw thoughtfully. “I think we could make this happen.” He shadowboxes to punctuate his statement, stopping after a couple quick jabs.