“I have my reasons. Anyway, you live around here?” Time to change the subject from my love life.
“Not far. My brother and I own the gym around the corner,” he said, gesturing toward his brother.
“No way! I know that place. So it’s yours? Yours and Jack’s? It’s sort of new, right?”
He smiled with satisfaction. “Yeah, coming up on a year. And what a year it’s been.”
“Really?” I asked.
He ordered us another couple beers, which my coworker Tom set in front of us. “It’s been pretty up and down. We’ll be busy, signing up members, and then things will slow down. You know, every business has its ups and downs. Hey, you should join my bootcamp exercise class. Not that you need it. It’s just a lot of fun.”
“Oh, really? Well, I wouldn’t mind some more exercise. Not sure I have time, though.” Though I should probably find a way to make time, if for no other reason than to watch him flex what looked like some very nice muscles under the jeans and pullover he was wearing.
“Seriously. I’ll give you a discount.”
I’d have to be an idiot to say no to that.
“Thank you. I’ll let you know. That’s so cool you have a business with your brother.”
Jack was still engrossed with his new friend. That’s probably how it always was with guys like them.
“It is nice. We’re tight. Really stick together.”
Jack appeared, tapping Linc on the shoulder.
“We got an early morning, bro,” Jack said.
Linc glanced at his watch. “Ugh. No rest for the weary. The gym opens at six a.m. So guess who gets to open it?”
That was rough. I was not a fan of early mornings. “Well, it was nice meeting you both,” I said. “And thank you again for your help.” On impulse, I threw my arms around him to emphasize my appreciation. I had to force myself to let go. He was so huge and strong, he could have crushed me. And he smelled damn good.
“Yeah, Garnet. Good meeting you, too. Please come by the gym. Here’s my business card.”
After they left, I sat at the bar a bit longer. No sense in rushing home to my crummy apartment when I could hang out in a crummy bar.
* * *
When I did get home, I called my best friend, Matty.
“Bitch!” he screamed into the phone. “Why’d you take so long to call me? Was tonight’s date the one? ‘Cause I know you’re gonna get that five million so you can take me on a big-ass vacation. Preferably someplace with men wearing little Speedos…a cruise would be quite nice…”
“God, Matty. Put your dick back in your pants, would you?” I plopped down on the overstuffed chair I’d picked up at a garage sale. It was coming apart at a couple seams, but I was so attached to the sorry little thing.
“The guy was a psycho.” Saying those words out loud was sad. Just freaking sad. “I’m kind of disappointed. He seemed so nice over email.”
“Look, I told you not to use Craigslist. And take it from me, ‘cause us homos meet our booty calls online all the time—the internet is not where you find a husband.”
“I know that now, Matty. You were right. But I did meet someone else. Sort of.”
“Get out. You’re putting it out there, girl. I know you’ll find someone. You’ll get that money, and you’ll finally get laid.”
Ouch. It had been awhile. Only I didn’t need the biggest slut in town to remind me of it.
“So there was this big guy who saw my date harassing me. He grabbed him by the collar and threw him out the door.”
He shrieked. He loved tough guys and drama. Two in one were almost too much for him to bear.
“What did he look like? What was his name? And did he have a job?” Because Matty was not too particular, he ended up with a lot of dates with questionable backgrounds and unstable employment. If they had any employment at all. The last guy he’d dated had been in prison for selling drugs.