Jack steps in front of Kit before either of us reach them – which fractionally redeems him on my shit list – and blocks her from Timms’ view. Folding thick arms across his chest, he scowls as Timms approaches.
“Hey there, you’re Cat, yeah?” Timms peeks around Jack’s broad shoulders. “I’ve heard about the pretty new thing working out around here.”
“Back up,” my fifteen-year-old newbie student stares the twenty-something year old man down dangerously. “Go back to your bag, man.”
“Fuck off, kid–”
“Timms.” I step between him and Jack, and look down my nose, despite the fact he’s not much shorter than me. “Get back to work. Now.”
“Just saying hiya to my friends, Coach.”
“Nope, you’re being a pain in the ass. Bags now. Or thirty on the treadmill. Or you can just pack up for the day. I don’t care which door you choose, but they all end with you not standing here with them.”
His eyes turn to dangerous slits, and looking around me, he gives Jack the same treatment. Turning on his heel with an angry huff, he collects his bag and gloves, and slams his shoulder against mine on his way out of the gym.
“Dick.” Jack and I murmur in sync, and surprised by the other, we meet each other’s gaze. He and I could probably be friends one day – once he stops being a prick to his sister.
Silence descends on the gym in Timms’ wake, and turning around, I come face to face with Kit as she steps out from behind Jack.
She’s so beautiful, it hurts my chest.
I’ve seen her glammed up for the club, and I’ve seen her sweaty and rumpled in the gym, but today I meet Office-Attire Kit. Silver-gray skirt suit, silky white flowing blouse, long hair tied into a low bun, and those glasses that I fantasize about, magnifying her already large eyes. Her skirt sits inches above her knees, and her heels make her long legs stretch on forever. Fire engine red lipstick makes her lips look positively edible, and mascara frames her big blue eyes.
For the love of all that’s good in this world, let me keep her. Let me call her mine. “Hey, Bobby.” She nervously tucks away invisible strands of hair behind her ear. “I wanted to say sorry about my shitty mood yesterday. I won’t come to training like that again.”
“It’s cool. I prefer you come in here and work it out, rather than stew on it at home alone.”
“Okay, well…” She shrugs nervously and breaks eye contact. “Thanks. Jack has something to say to you guys, then I’ll be going to work.” She looks to him with a lifted brow. “Jack?”
“Yeah, okay…” He takes a deep breath. He was badass stepping up to Timms, but Kit has that ‘I’m disappointed’ glare perfected, too. “I’m sorry for fighting at school. I know the gym rules, and I’m sorry for breaking them.”
He’s clearly being forced to apologize, and I work hard not to smile at the bulldog being led around by the chihuahua.
“And…” Kit prompts with a raised brow.
“And thank you for letting me work my punishment off here, rather than kicking me out.”
“Good.” Satisfied, Kit’s eyes come back to mine. “I have to go to work. I’ll be back about five-thirty, maybe six to pick him up. Thanks for letting him work here. I appreciate it.” She turns back to him with a glare. “We’ll grab something for dinner on the way home. Don’t screw around, Jack. I’m not playing. Do as you’re told. Be good.” And with that, she spins on her sexy heels and walks out.
Without saying goodbye.
“Don’t move, Jack.” I look to Jon. “I’ll be back in a sec.” Taking off across the gym at a jog, I catch up to her in the parking lot. “Hey, wait up.”
She spins at my shout and presses a hand to her heart. “Shit! Jesus, Bobby. You scared the crap out of me.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.” I stop in front of her with an embarrassed smile. “You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” She lets out a deep breath. “Sorry, I was daydreaming. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to say hi. Walk you to your car?”
“Oh… sure, it’s over here.” She turns and walks slower this time, and I turn to fall into step beside her, moving as close as I can without actually touching her. I don’t want to be a creep; I just want to be near her. A lot of the time. And maybe touch her some, or just watch her sleep…
Whoops, there’s that creeper line.
I struggle to think of what to say. I’m unsure of where we’re at in our ‘thing,’ and she’s already on edge with Jack, so I try for easy chit chat. “How do you feel after training? Sore?”
“Ha, yeah, I’m dying, actually.” She looks up at me from the corner of her eye. “My thighs are so sore, it hurts to sit and get up – and I do that a hundred times a day at work. I’ve never wanted to move the printer to my desk before, but I’m tempted. And my arms are too weak to lift my morning coffee, and that’s end of the world type stuff, right there. I don’t remember what you said to convince me to train, but the charm is wearing off real quick.”