7
Kit
Girls Like Her
The last thing I ever expected to walk in to find today was Bobby Kincaid. Thesecondlast thing was him holding Jack against a wall while he snarled in his face.
I don’t knowthatBobby – the snarler. I know sweet and funny Bobby who tries to joke to make me smile.
The third last thing I expected was to be sitting beside him now, while our knees touch, while his large thumb massages the palm of his other hand as though he needs to keep them busy.
Would he reach out and touch me if they weren’t?
He’s sweaty, the collar of his dark gray shirt wet with perspiration. That should be a little gross. But it’s not. Not even a little bit. His too-long hair curls at the ends and makes the collar of his shirt wetter.
I’ve dreamt of Bobby Kincaid for weeks, and lucky for me, I get to add this gym look to my portfolio for the lonely nights. His chest is larger than I remember, pumped full of blood from working out. His biceps strain the sleeves of his shirt, and sexy tattoos litter his thick forearms.
Mind. Blown!
Walking in on Bobby and Jack this morning set me on a path to destruction. I was ready for heads to roll; it didn’t matter that I wasn’t sure whose head – Bobby’s or Jack’s. I know firsthand that Jack is no angel, so he could have easily landed himself on the receiving end of fists with his bad attitude and smart mouth. I was fully prepared to hear the whole story, but when Bobby admitted to zero provocation, add my lingering sexual tension, work stress, and shitty lawyers, I saw red.
Bobby’s head it would be. Screw the consequences.
But no, the mind fuck doesn’t end there, because once Jack was organized, not only hadn’t Bobby forgotten me, but admits to have been actively looking for me. What the hell kind of warped universe is this? Am I on an episode ofYou’ve Been Punked?
For someone like him to be into someone like me, the poster child for unfit… I don’t get it. I’m a numbers geek, I sit all day, and I eat cheesecake more than I should. I’m an emotional eater, and with Jack and Dad, and hell, even Bobby, I’ve been eating far too much sugar lately.
In the last couple months, I’ve taken on a belligerent teenager, planned a funeral, dealt with lawyers, filed claims on an estate that’s in the negatives, the opposite to what most people hope for, and on top of the easy and filling high carb diet Jack brought with him, I haven’t stepped foot in a gym in forever.
Say hello to my flabby arms and a squishy tummy.
Sexy.
“So, what do you think?”
My eyes snap up at his voice. “Huh?”
He smiles. “I asked if you’d like a tour. I can show you Jack’s class; it goes for an hour and a half, so we have a little time before he finishes.” He stands and holds his hand out for me. I know he’s looking for a yes, so I place my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. I let go as soon as I’m steady. Walking around his gym hand in hand is just… no.
I turn back to organize my laptop, and as I pack it all away, Bobby grabs my bag and motions to his receptionist. “We can store this here if you like? It’ll be safe, I promise.”
I look to the young girl behind the desk. She can’t be a hell of a lot older than Jack, maybe eighteen or nineteen. She’s shorter than me, maybe five seven or so, and she’s really very beautiful. Long mahogany hair hangs in a ponytail and draws your eye down to her amazing body. She’s toned all over, her muscles long and lean, her olive skin making them look even nicer.
Damn her for being so beautiful.
I want to hate her, but her brown eyes are kind as she holds her hand out in expectation.
Bobby passes my bag over and turns back to me. “Don’t worry. Iz’s got your back. She’s a beast in the octagon, no one would dare cross her.”
“She’s a fighter? No way! She’s tiny.”
“She’s small, but she’s mean.” He takes my arm and leads me away from her. “But she’s a hard worker. She well and truly earned all credibility around here.”
“Isn’t she scared?” I watch over my shoulder. “To be training with men. In such a physical sport? I’d be crapping my pants.”
He frowns and looks down at me. “I didn’t take you for one of those people, Kit. Women can do anything a man can do. The right women, anyway. Girls can fight, too.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not saying shecan’tdo it. Hell, I idolize women like Trace, Tate, Jackson. They’re badass. I just meanIcouldn’t. I’d pass out from fear as soon as something hit me.”