Jack awkwardly shuffles his feet. “It’s just that, I heard you guys accept work in exchange for class time. I don’t have money to pay for classes.”
“That’s okay,” Aiden says. “First week’s free anyway, so we can sort the details later.”
He’s such a liar. We absolutely do not offer first week free.
Not that I bring that up. He’s smoothing feathers, that’s what he does, and if it means I get to keep Kit, if only long enough to dig myself out of the shit, I’ll spot them for the week.
Hell, I’ll pay for their classes for the next decade if she promised to meet me in the dark parking lot again.
Kit lets out a weary sigh. Flicking her eyes between me and Aiden in thought, finally, she turns back to Jack. “Okay fine, if you’re comfortable… you can stay.”
He looks at me with that dimply, shit eating grin, a complete contradiction to the white-faced kid from ten minutes ago, then he and his goons walk away to prepare for class.
He’s gutsy, I’ll give him that. And now that I know he belongs to her, I kind of like that about him. I have a million questions. Why do he and his friends listen to her? Why is she with them in the first place? Why were a bunch of fifteen-year-old kids out at 188 on a Saturday night?
I step away when Kit pointedly ignores me, but I watch from a distance as she moves around my gym.
The pride that rises in my chest at what the guys and I have built here is potent.
Let her look. Let her see the empire a bunch of poor kids imagined and created. It’s just a gym, I know that, but it’s ours, and it’s so much more than it looks on the surface.
It’s not the building or the equipment that makes me proud. It’s the athletes. The family. The brotherhood. The champions.
I watch her long creamy legs as she pokes around, as she watches people train, as guys come and go, and I crack my knuckles when a few too many guys pumped on the fight also watch her creamy legs as she pokes around.
Eventually, she works her way back to the reception area and takes a seat at the visitor’s bench. She pulls a laptop from her purse and gets comfortable working. I lean against the shed wall a good fifty feet away, and with one foot on the wall, my weight on the other, and my hands dangling casually, I cover my cock when she pulls on a pair of thick framed reading glasses. She looks like the sexy librarian that I had no clue I was hot for. Her long hair dangles over her shoulder as she slumps forward and works, and when I push off the wall and move toward her, her spine snaps straight, her eyes wide, and her hands up to tug the glasses back off.
Disappointment swells inside my gut as I close the final few feet between us. She twirls the glasses between her fingers, but I don’t miss the way her frame almost shakes.
Shy Kit is back.
“Hey.” I stop just a foot from her. Close enough that I can smell what I smelled twenty minutes ago when I was up in her space. Coconuts in her hair and strawberries on her lips. “You’re still here. I wasn’t sure if you were real.”
She watches me lean against the arm of the bench seat. Crossing my arms over my chest and looking down at her, she meets my gaze. It’s an odd mixture of shyness and bravado. She’s not sure what she’s doing; is she still Jack’s protector, or is she the girl that I kissed weeks ago? “Yeah, I’m here while Jack’s here. Can’t leave him, can’t trust him to stay put, can’t trust you not to beat him up.”
Okay. Never mind.“Look, I’m sorry I pinned your brother. I didn’t even realize youhada brother. I told you all about mine, but you didn’t mention yours. I remembered he was the guy who upset you at the club, so, I wanted answers.”
“What answers though?” She snaps her laptop closed. “Why do you care? I’m surprised you even remember me!”
Surprised I remember her? I haven’t stopped thinking about her. “I asked for your number, Kit, but you didn’t give it to me. I asked Tink, but she wouldn’t give it up. I went back to the club a million times looking for you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you in three weeks, not since I first saw you.” I step closer and crouch low. I know I’m showing my hand, but this girl doesn’t see her own appeal. I refuse to play games. “I can still taste you on my lips… I want more.”
Her eyes flare in surprise as she leans back to make space between us. It boggles my mind that she’d think I’d forgotten her. Jesus, she’s tattooed to the backs of my eyelids. She’s been my every single fantasy for weeks. If only she knew…
“So, you own this place?” She pretends neither of us were just thinking about our time together. “I thought you were just a personal trainer?”
I stand slowly and clear my throat. Rejection sucks ass. “Ah, yeah. I’m a PT,andI own this place with my brothers. We’re mostly a fight gym, we train athletes to go pro, but we run beginner classes for kids like Jack, too.
“That’s cool.” She tosses her glasses down onto her laptop and scoots a few inches away when I sit down beside her. “Pretty good accomplishment for guys your age.”
“Yeah well, the four of us have been fighting since forever. We spent most of our time in a gym anyway, so the logical thing to do was open our own.”
Silence. More silence. Then a simple, “Yeah…”
“Yeah…” I run a hand through my hair when awkwardness threatens to choke us. “We started in my mom’s garage.” I turn my head and smile when her lips turn up into a tiny grin. We’re back to my mommy issues. “We were training ourselves… Well, my dad trained us. Then other friends wanted to get into it, then their friends… and that’s how we grew. People didn’t pay to train, but we all threw a little cash down, like a kitty to buy mats, bags and gloves, that sort of stuff. Eventually we outgrew the garage, and it was around the time I came into a bit of cash, so all the stars aligned and we found this place.”
That cash is actually prize money from my own fights. I won the MMA heavyweight title three years ago, and I used those winnings to buy this place. I also won it again last year, so I’m training to defend my title in December. I’m not sure how she’ll react to this, so I don’t tell her. Not today, anyway. “Is it just me, or did the last three weeks drag by slower than a dead slug?” When her eyes come up to meet mine, I push on at the approval behind her small grin. “What’ve you been up to? How’ve you been?”
She considers my words for a moment, but eventually she sets her laptop aside and turns in my direction. Club Kit is making a return; wary, but shyly interested. “I’m… good.” She tucks loose hair behind her ear. “Busy at work. Busy at home.” She shrugs. “Too much to do, not enough hours in the day, you know?”