"Is that him?" he asked, his voice low. "Ken?"
"Yes," she said, and she watched as his expression suddenly went hard. He didn't separate from her, but his attention zeroed in on Ken. Though he didn't squeeze her hand, she could feel the tension in it, a coiled, deep-seated violence held in check by a thread. She wasn't afraid, but she had the sudden certainty that up close, Ken definitely would be.
Ken continued to watch them. It was a standoff of sorts, and still Colin continued to stare, turning to face her again only after Ken turned away. He kissed her again, this time with a trace of possessiveness, before pulling back.
"Don't let him bother you. He's not worth it," she said.
"He's bothering you."
"I'll be fine."
"I still don't like him."
"Is that why you kissed me again?"
"No."
"Then why did you do it?"
"I like you," he answered.
His comment--so direct, so obviously truthful--made her stomach do that ridiculous flip-flop again, and it was all she could do not to grin like a fool.
"What are you doing tonight and Friday?"
"I have plans with Evan and Lily."
"Both nights?"
"Yes."
"What are you doing?"
"I don't want to tell you."
"Why?"
"I don't want to tell you that, either."
She squeezed his hand before letting go. "I know you're telling the truth, but you're not really saying anything. Should I be worried? Are you going out with someone else?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "There's nothing to worry about. I had a great time at lunch today. I enjoyed meeting your parents."
She peered up at him. "I'm glad."
He smiled then before finally taking a step backward. "It's probably time for you to go back to work."
"I know."
"Is he still watching us?"
She peeked past him and shook her head. "I think he went around to the back entrance."
"Will he be bothered by what he saw?"
She thought about it. "Probably. But now he knows you actually exist, and that's a good thing. If he bothers me again, I'll just hint that you're the jealous type."
"I'm not," he said. His blue-gray eyes were intense, yet gentle. "But I still don't like him."
CHAPTER 11
Colin
On Saturday morning, Colin rose early and went for a bike ride just as the sun was coming up. His bike--a rusting beater that he'd picked up at a pawn shop for almost nothing--was at least a decade old, but it did the job, and he was able to work up a serious sweat before he even reached the gym. There, he spent an hour in a cross-training class slamming heavy ropes, pushing weighted sleds, throwing medicine balls, and doing a variety of other exercises, then staggered back to his bike for the ride home. He mowed the lawn and trimmed the bushes, reflecting that though he'd been preoccupied by thoughts of Maria since they'd first met, those thoughts didn't compare to the almost obsessive way he dwelled on her now. Even Evan had noticed; earlier, when he'd stepped out onto the porch, he'd been wearing a smirk that let Colin know he was fully aware of the effect that Maria was having on him. Evan himself had been ebullient on both Thursday and Friday nights, and Colin suspected that it might have had something to do with the whole salsa dancing is sensual thing, but it wasn't his place to ask.
Lily, too, had noticed that Colin had developed feelings for Maria, but remained focused on his dancing lessons. However, she'd recommended a restaurant downtown, reminding him twice to make reservations. She'd taught him more about dancing than he thought possible, but he still wasn't entirely confident in his abilities. He didn't want to imagine how unprepared he would have been had she not intervened.
After completing his chores, Colin sipped on his second protein drink of the day while he straightened up the apartment, then began working on a paper for his classroom-management class. It was only five pages, but he was too distracted to do much more than put together an outline before he finally called it quits.
Changing back into his workout clothes, he grabbed his gym bag and headed out the door. Though it had been performing like a champ recently, today the engine coughed and coughed, finally sputtering reluctantly to life, meaning that the problem was neither the ignition switch nor the alternator. He should have been preoccupied with finding a solution, but instead he found himself conjuring up Maria's image, strangely anxious that their date go smoothly. He'd called her after work on Thursday and Friday and they'd talked for more than an hour each night, which was a new experience for him. He couldn't remember talking to anyone on the phone that long--ever. Until Maria, he couldn't imagine how anyone sustained such a lengthy conversation. But Maria made it easy, and more than once, he found himself smiling at whatever it was she was saying. She mentioned that Ken had been keeping his distance, and when she recounted the blind date she'd been on the night he'd changed her tire, he'd laughed aloud. After he hung up the phone, he'd found it difficult to fall asleep. Ordinarily, he collapsed in bed at the end of the day, unable to keep his eyes open.
For the first time in a long while, he considered calling his parents. He wasn't sure why the urge struck him, but he assumed it had something to do with the way Maria talked about her parents and how well they got along. He wondered how different his life might have been had he been brought up in a family like hers. It might not have been any different, of course--he'd been a handful even before he could walk--but if family dynamics played even a small role, then his life had taken a direction that wasn't entirely of his making. And though he was satisfied with his current path, the road had until recently been littered with potholes and boulders. That Maria was able to look past those things, considering her own respectable history, was still something of a surprise, though a surprise of the very best kind.
Pulling up at the gym, he spotted Maria standing out front. She was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, and he thought again that she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met.
"Hey there," she said as he approached. "You ready to beat some people up?"
"It's only practice."
"You're sure I can go inside to watch?"
He reached for the door, nodding. "I talked to the owner this morning and he was fine with it. And unless you decide to go in the cage, he promised he wouldn't even make you sign a waiver."
"You're quite the negotiator."
"I try," he said. He held the door open, eyeing her figure as she slid past him. He watched as she surveyed her surroundings. Unlike many commercial gyms, this place had more of a warehouse feel. They walked past assorted racks of weights and other cross-training equipment, toward the training room at the far end of the building. Passing through another door, he led the way into a roomy space with padded walls and large mats, equipment piled in every corner; over to the left was the cage. A few of Colin's training partners were stretching or otherwise warming up, and he nodded toward them as he set down his bag. Maria wrinkled her nose.
"It smells back here."
"It's only going to get worse," he promised.
"Where should I sit?"
Colin gestured at a bunch of equipment in the corner: crates of boxing gloves, assorted pads, various elastics, jump ropes, and plyometric boxes.
"You can sit over there on the boxes if you'd like," he said. "We don't normally use that part of the room."
"Where will you be?"
"All over, most likely," he said.
"How many guys will be here?"
"Eight or nine, maybe? Saturdays are always a little slow. During the week, there are fifteen or sixteen of us."
"In other words, only the supremely dedicated are here?"
"It's more like the workout nuts, or guys who are just starting out and trying to hit every workout they can. On Saturdays, a lot of the serious ones are out of town at events."
"That's good. Since we're going out, I mean. I'd hate for you to end up al
l cut and bruised like you were the first night I saw you."
"Are you ever going to let that go?"
"I don't think I can," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "The image is burned into my brain forever."
Colin did a quick warm-up; arm rolls and leg swings, a few minutes of jumping rope. By then, Todd Daly, the main instructor and a retired UFC fighter, and Jared Moore, who was fighting professionally but not quite at UFC level, had arrived, and Daly led the entire group through more warm-ups.
While awaiting his turn in the cage, Colin worked on his ground skills: arm bars and leg locks, various submission holds. Most of the skills had their roots in the martial arts and wrestling, with speed, instinct, and balance being far more important than brute strength. As was usual during Saturday classes, Daly demonstrated the moves first--occasionally using Colin as a partner--before the group split in two. Each group was given a chance to practice the move, repeating it ten or twelve times before switching positions with their partners. They would then move on to a different set of skills. Within ten minutes, Colin was breathing hard; by the half-hour mark, his shirt was drenched. Through it all, Daly critiqued them--telling them where to place a foot for additional leverage, or how to wrap more effectively with the legs, the subtle variations endless.
One by one, people rotated through the cage, and after an hour, it was Colin's turn. He put on headgear and heavier gloves and worked with a partner while Moore--a former Golden Gloves champ from Orlando--shouted coaching tips. Colin went through seven two-minute rounds, bouncing and circling, taking advantage of openings to strike or kick while trying to avoid leaving any open shots. He dominated, but less because of his own skill than his opponent's lack therof: The guy he faced was out of shape and relatively new, with only a single fight behind him, which he'd lost.
From there, it was back to the mats again, where they worked on takedowns while their partner's back was against the wall; then, switching positions, they tried to prevent takedowns. By the end of class, Colin's muscles were twitching with exhaustion.
Throughout the afternoon, he found his eyes drifting toward Maria. He'd expected her to be bored, but her gaze followed him the entire time, making the session harder than usual. Ordinarily, focusing exclusively on his opponent was easy, but her presence made him self-conscious in a way he'd never experienced. In a match, this lack of focus would land him in trouble. By the end of class he felt like he'd taken two steps back mentally, and he knew he'd have to work hard to regain ground. It was, after all, a sport that was equal parts mental and physical, even if most people didn't realize it.
Afterward, he went straight to his bag and tossed in his gear before looping it over his shoulder. By then, Maria had walked up.
"What did you think?" he asked, adjusting the strap.
"It looked hard. And tiring. And sweaty."
"That's about it, when you get right down to it."
"How do you think it went?"
"Okay," he said. "I got distracted."
"By me?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He smiled before tugging at his shirt. "Could you give me a few minutes to rinse off and change? I need to get out of these things or my car seat will be soaked by the time I get home."
Maria wrinkled her nose. "That's... kind of gross to think about."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"By all means," she said. "I'll wait out front for you."
When Colin finally exited the locker room, he spotted Maria just outside the doors, talking on the phone. In her sunglasses, she resembled a glamorous fifties-era movie star. She hung up just as he approached.
"That was Serena."
"Is she all right?"
"She's having dinner at the house tonight with the director of some scholarship thing, so she's a bit nervous, but other than that, she's okay." She shrugged. "Do you feel better?"
"I feel cleaner. Temporarily, anyway. I'm still sweating."
She touched his arm. "I'm glad I came. It was a lot more interesting than I thought it would be."
"Are we still on for seven thirty?"
"I hope so," she said. "And just to warn you, when we go dancing, I might be a little rusty."
"I wouldn't worry. It'll be my first time ever. And Maria?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks for coming today. It meant a lot to me."
As soon as Colin got out of his car, Evan stepped onto the porch holding a plastic shopping bag.
"Here," he said, holding the bag out. "This is for you. And you owe me some money."
Colin stopped in front of the porch. "For what?"
"Lily thought you might need something to wear tonight."
"I have clothes."
"Don't blame me. I said exactly the same thing to her. But she's Lily, and she dragged me through the stores anyway, and like I said, you owe me some money. The receipt is in the bag."
"What did she buy?"
"It's actually not as bad as it could have been. I had visions of her selecting something with tassels or bells or whatever, but she didn't. It's black slacks, a red button-down shirt, and black shoes."
"How did she know my size?"
"Because she bought you clothes last Christmas."
"And she remembered?"
"She's Lily. She remembers things like that. And would you take the bag, please? My arm is getting tired."
Colin reached up to take it. "What's going to happen if I don't wear them?"
"For starters, you still have to pay me. Then, you'll also hurt her feelings, which is the last thing you should do after all the dance lessons. And, of course, you'll have to explain to Lily why you're not wearing them."
"How will she know whether I wear them or not?"
"Because she's here. And she insists that you drop by before you go out. She wants to talk to you."
At a bit of a loss, Colin said nothing.
"Just wear the damn clothes, all right?"
When Colin still didn't respond, Evan squinted slightly. "You owe me."
Colin stood in front of the bathroom mirror, acknowledging that it could have been a lot worse. The shirt was actually more burgundy than red, and though it wasn't something he would have picked out for himself, it wasn't half bad, especially with the sleeves rolled up. He'd been planning all along to wear black slacks--more leftovers from his courtroom days--and the shoes were a lot like the ones he already owned, without the scuffs, which meant he'd probably needed a new pair anyway. How Lily had known was beyond him, but he'd long since given up being surprised by anything she did.
In the kitchen, he scribbled out a check to Evan, grabbed his keys, and turned off his lights on the way out the door. Rounding the house, he went up the steps, noting that the door had been left ajar. Pushing it open, he saw Lily and Evan in the kitchen, each holding a glass of wine. Lily set her glass on the counter with a smile.
"Well, aren't you handsome?" she declared as she approached. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "The color is perfect on you, and I'm certain that Maria will find you quite dashing."
"Thank you," Colin said.
"It was my pleasure. And I'm hopeful that you remember everything we practiced. I assume you went through the steps today?"
"Not today."
"What on earth did you do?"
"I went to the gym."
"Of course you did," she said, not hiding her disappointment. "You really need to learn to prioritize, and I simply can't let you go until I know for certain that you retained everything you need to know."
"I'm sure I'll be fine. And I'm supposed to pick her up in a few minutes."
"Then we'll have to make it quick. Evan?" she called out. "Will you please put on some music?"
"Sure," he said. Grabbing his phone, he tapped a few buttons as he walked over. "I just happen to have a song right here."
Obviously, Lily had been planning this all along. She reached for Colin's hand. "Just run me throu
gh a bit of everything, okay? At full speed."
Colin complied before finally separating from Lily. "Good enough?"
"You're going to dazzle her." Lily winked. "Just like you did with the flowers."
"And you know what else will dazzle her?" Evan asked. When Colin turned toward him, he knew that Evan's thoughts had taken a serious turn. "First your car starts, and then you don't end up getting arrested."
Colin had barely finished knocking when Maria pulled the door open. For a long moment, all he could do was stare. Her blouse hugged her curves and her skirt reached only to midthigh; her strappy high heels made her nearly as tall as he was. With a touch of mascara and lipstick, she looked nothing like the professional he'd gone to lunch with only a couple of days earlier, nor did she resemble the sun-kissed woman on the paddleboard. As he stood before her, he wasn't sure which version of her he most preferred, though this one, he had to admit, was pretty stunning.
"You're right on time," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm impressed."
His hands automatically went to her hips. "You look beautiful," he murmured. Up close, he caught a whiff of perfume, something floral and understated. Perfect.
"Thank you," she said. She patted his chest. "I like the shirt."
"It's new."
"Yeah? For tonight?"
"You could say that."
"I feel special," she said. "And, I have to say, you clean up pretty well."
"Sometimes," he admitted. "Are you ready to go?"
"Just let me grab my purse, and then I'm ready. Where are we going?"
"The Pilot House."
"Wow... I love that place. The food is fabulous."
"So I've heard. Lily recommended it."
"Then she obviously has good taste."
The restaurant wasn't far, but Colin drove at a leisurely speed with the windows rolled down, both of them enjoying the flickering stars that spread to the horizon and a breeze just strong enough to erase the lingering heat of the day.
Near the river, Colin left Market Street, eventually pulling into the restaurant's lot. Walking around the car to open Maria's door, he reached for her hand and escorted her to the entrance. Once inside, he was surprised to note that it was less formal than he'd expected--a clean, unpretentious place with white tables and a million-dollar view. The restaurant was crowded, people clustering near the bar while they waited for indoor and outdoor tables. After checking in with the hostess, he followed her and Maria to a corner table with a breathtaking view of the Cape Fear River. Moonlight spilled over the slow-moving surface, forming a liquid vein of light between coal-dark banks. As Maria stared toward the water, Colin mentally traced the graceful outlines of her profile, watching her hair catch in the breeze. How had she come to mean so much to him so quickly?
See Me Page 18