“Did it hurt getting that tattoo?” I ask, pointing to the eagle on Isaac’s forearm.
“Not as much as I thought it would,” he says, looking down at the ink on his skin.
“I was terrified when I got mine.”
I can sense Trenton shift against the cabinet, but I keep my eyes on Isaac.
“You have a tattoo?”
“A little blue butterfly,” I say.
“I’d like to see that some time.”
“It’s in a place that’s not appropriate to show.”
“Same goes,” he says with another wink.
Boomer grumbles something behind his book, but before I can ask what he said, Trenton pushes off from the counter, smacks his coffee cup down, and walks out of the room.
I know my mouth has to be hanging open when I look back at Isaac, knowing I just somehow forced Trenton over that jealousy/pissed-off line.
Isaac winks at me, angling his head to the kitchen door. “Better go calm him down.”
Chapter 29
Grinch
“They could’ve called you Horse or something,” I mutter with a mocking tone as I walk out of the clubhouse. “At least that nickname would fit. Are they fucking serious?”
I pull open the door to the gym with more force than necessary, barely moving out of the way in time before it can smack me in the face.
I need to get a handle on my damn emotions and working out to the point of complete muscle failure seems like the only damn choice I have. My first instinct, to grab Grace by the arm and bend her over the table, fucking her so everyone in the room knows she’s mine, wouldn’t work.
One, she’s not fucking mine, and I hate that I have to keep reminding myself of that fact. Two, she probably would fucking enjoy it too much after the way she’s acted each time I’ve brought up the threesome we’ve planned.
But this is good, right?
The goal was to prove that she’s not what I’m looking for in a woman.
I snap my fist out, hitting the heavy bag hanging in the corner, and immediately regret my decision as pain shoots up to my shoulder.
“I’m not looking for a woman,” I say out loud, the correction too important to keep in my head.
Instead of backing away from the heavy bag, I hit it again with my other fist. The pain in my muscles I can handle. It’s the pain in my chest, that emotional side of me that I want gone. Watching Ugly flirt with her, tossing innuendos in her direction after I told him to not act like a dick, and the fact that she managed to flirt back with him without actually flirting, made me impossibly angry. She did that with me the first time we met, and it was much too familiar to keep witnessing.
“You should wrap your hands.”
I point my face to the ceiling, wishing I would’ve taken off out the front door instead of staying on the property where she could find me.
“The gym is off-limits to women.”
“So Slick and Rivet have their own gyms?” she asks, knowing I’m full of shit.
A puff of frustrated air leaves my lungs, the sound of it escaping my lips a clue to just how agitated I am.
I want to hold on to that emotion rather than the one that’s sort of elated that she followed me out here instead of staying inside with Ugly.
“Do you want me to wrap them for you?” she asks, heading to the cart that houses the tape and first aid kit.
“I’m fine,” I grunt, stepping away from the heavy bag.
There’s a good chance I’ll take the damn tape and tie her to the damn thing if she gets close enough to touch.
“If you’re agitated that I was talking to Ugly, you can back out of our plans.”
“I’m not,” I lie. “I think it’s good that you get to know him a little better before he sees you naked. It’ll help with your comfort level.”
I grab weights in each hand and slam them onto the barbell.
“You seem upset.”
“Just trying to get my workout in.”
“And me being here is annoying you?”
“You’re fine,” I tell, realizing just how true that is.
So long as she’s in here with me, she’s not flirting with one of the other guys, and I don’t have to worry about what she’s doing and who she might be doing it with.
The possession I feel doesn’t wane as I lie back on the bench and lower the bar to my chest.
“The guys were looking at me funny when I came into the kitchen.”
“The guys always look weird.” I huff with exertion because I overestimated my ability in lifting such heavy weights, but I’ll just push through it. I don’t want her to watch me take weights off.
“It seemed like more than that.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, taking the opportunity she’s providing to rerack the bar and look over at her.