“Yes. If the bus needs an oil change or tires rotated, it can take up to a couple of hours. If that’s the case, I hit the fitness facility and run on the treadmill.”
“Since when do truck stops have fitness facilities?”
“Years, I guess.” Devin reached up and pressed a button on the intercom system. “Reg?”
Half a minute passed before Reg’s voice boomed through the speaker. “What can I help you with, Mr. McClain?”
“How long is this stop?”
“Probably take an hour before it’s all said and done.”
“Cool. Thanks.” Devin set his guitar aside and scooted to the edge of the bed. From a bottom drawer, he pulled out a pair of running shoes. His gaze met hers after giving her a thorough toe-to-head inspection. “You workin’ out with me?”
“Depends on the security of the facility.” She retreated. “I’ll get ready in case. Don’t leave the bus.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Five minutes later, Liberty was trying to figure out where to put her stun gun—damn yoga workout pants were skintight—when she felt Devin’s breath on the back of her neck. A tingle traveled down her spine.
“You’re seriously takin’ a stun gun into a workout room at a truck stop in the middle of bumfuck Arizona?”
She snagged a nylon jacket and slipped a stun gun in the pocket before she spun around. “That’s my job. I’ll sit outside while you’re working out.”
“I see how it is. You just don’t want to hop your cute buns on a treadmill.”
Liberty snorted, ignoring the cute buns comment. “You wish. On the treadmill or on the track, I’d wipe the floor with you, guitar slinger.”
“Bring it.”
“As much as it pains me to decline . . . I’ll have to.” She punched in the code to unlock the door and exited the bus first. As she waited for Devin to alight, she noticed a small crowd had gathered.
Devin had slipped on a brown and gold University of Wyoming ball cap and a pair of sunglasses. A white wire for his earbuds was draped around his neck and he held an iPod. He stopped in front of Liberty and spoke loudly. “I don’t think he’s getting off the bus. Said something about takin’ a nap.”
Clever man. Making the people think the real “star” wasn’t showing his face. Liberty closed the door and armed the alarm. Then she put herself between him and the crowd as they walked to the closest door.
Crash waited inside for them. “Fitness room is yours for one hour,” he said to Devin. Then he looked at Liberty. “No offense, but it’ll look weird—not only to bystanders, but to the band—if you’re manning the outside door. Better for me to hang out here and you to stay with him inside.”
Devin grinned again. “Appears we can have us a treadmill race after all.”
They turned the corner, and Crash led them to a wide, heavy door with a square glass window inset. Liberty peeked inside. The room had two treadmills, an elliptical machine, a rowing machine and a weight station. Unlike other fitness rooms, this one had no windows. No mirrors either.
Devin ditched his shades, but kept on his cap. She hung her jacket over the back of a chair after she removed the stun gun. She shoved it into the cup holder and climbed on the machine.
He whipped off his shirt.
The man definitely kept in shape. The thick slab of his chest was sculpted from his pectorals down to his rippled abs. His broad shoulders, biceps, triceps and forearms were well defined.
She managed to tear her gaze away and focused on poking buttons to warm up the ancient machine. But she felt him staring and glanced over at him again. “What?”
“Ain’t you gonna take off your T-shirt?”
“No.”
“It’s hot in here.”
“So?”
“So, I’ll bet you’re wearin’ a sports bra under that shirt.”
No, she was wearing a compression bra. Her large br**sts were the bane of her existence. She downplayed them with the help of athletic clothing. “I’ll pass.”
“Well, sweetheart, when you’re feelin’ like passing out from heat exhaustion in this tiny airless room, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to level the playing field.”
“You’re such a gentleman. But I’ll remind you I spent years in the desert. I ran in full combat gear when it was one hundred and ten degrees out. So, sweetheart, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” She laughed again at Devin’s look of alarm. “What?”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Only one way to prove it.”
“Fine. I’m in. How about . . . whoever gets the most miles in thirty minutes wins?”
“What’s the prize?”
“Loser has to cook supper for the winner after the show tonight.”
“Deal.”
Devin slipped in his earbuds. “Ready, set, go.”
Liberty watched the display as she started to run. Keeping her mind on her progress and not letting her gaze wander to Devin proved harder than she’d imagined. She adjusted her breathing at the five-minute mark and again at ten minutes. By the time she’d hit the halfway point, she’d found her rhythm.
She wished she would’ve grabbed a towel; sweat ran down her face. She swiped it away with the back of her arm and saw five minutes left. Time to sprint. Liberty bit back a laugh when Devin’s footsteps hit the rubber harder and faster.