Her polite greeting startles me. In all the upscale boutiques I’ve shopped at, no one has ever welcomed me to their store. Most of the time, the workers just seem annoyed by your existence.
“Can I help you find something?”
“I need some cute jeans and some tee shirts. Do you sell shoes?”
She rounds the counter, flapping both hands in front of her. “Oh, honey, we’ve got everything you need. C’mon. I’ll show ya.”
I whirl around the store, piecing together items I never thought I’d put on my body—far too much denim, plain cotton tees, flannel shirts, etc—and a pair of Ariat snakeskin boots I just couldn’t resist. Now, standing at the register, I hold mybreath as the clerk swipes my mother’s credit card. The wordauthenticatingflashes across the screen. I bite my lip and wait …
Approved!
With my new purchases bagged and ready, I stumble into the oncoming night and head back toward The Great Notch Inn. Cindy said the gym is just a few blocks past in the opposite direction. I find the bar and continue until I come across a lonely brick building. A rabid dog appears to leap off the gigantic sign that hangs above the door, the wordsMad Dog’s Mixed Martial Artsstamped above in menacing print.
I lift a questioning brow. In a city that looks like time forgot, this impeccable gym stands out like a sore thumb. The musty smell of sweat greets me inside. A series of punching bags hangs along the back wall, but the colossal ring takes up most of the space. Two men spar inside it while another kicks an armless mannequin with a grunt.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?”
I whip toward the sound of Jace’s growl, stumbling from the shock. My heart beats so fast, I can hear it thumping against my chest. A pair of jersey shorts sits low on his hips, the sweat dripping off his bare chest, but what shocks me most is the look of hatred that crosses his glare.
"God, you're impossible to get away from, aren't you? You’re like a fly. Everywhere I look, there's fucking Ellie!" he spits out with such venom that every atom in my body trembles.
“Your mom said you’d give me a ride home.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ellie, I'm not your goddamn chauffeur. I don't know what it was like where you come from, but I have a life and shit to do that doesn't involve carting your ass around." His heated gaze falls to the shopping bags hanging at my side. “Maybe instead of blowing all your money on clothes, you should buy yourself a bicycle or something.”
“Jace!” a deep baritone calls from across the room. Without so much as anexcuse me, he shoulders past and stomps toward the voice. An older man with a shining bald head starts giving him orders. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but his body language is enough to tell me he’s the guy in charge.
Jace disappears through a door. At first, I worry that he’s sneaking out, but I'm taken aback when he returns with a mop. He begins sopping up a pool of spilled water near the wall, then wrings it out in a bucket. Slowly, he moves across the gym until the entire floor has been mopped clean, then he starts on the equipment next.
It hits me like a bolt of lightning. Jace isn’t a member of this gym. He works here. I’ve walked into his place of business and demanded a ride. No wonder he’s pissed.
I hide in the corner, silently watching as he meticulously wipes down every bench and mat, taking great care to make sure it’s perfect before going on to the next. When he’s done, he returns his supplies and steps toward the octagon, fitting a helmet onto his head. The bald man—who I now assume is the coach—opens the door and lets him inside.
The other guy in the ring hops like a pigeon while the coach wraps Jace’s hands. My mouth goes dry. I move in as if being pulled by an imaginary string. Jace swings his fist. His partner swerves, missing the attack, but Jace comes in from the bottom, sweeping the guy off his feet with a sudden kick.
He hits the floor hard with a grunt. Jace tramples like an angry bear. He hurls his body onto him, then rolls to his back, his legs wrapped around his torso and the crook of his elbow tight across his neck. When his partner smacks the mat, Jace lets go.
My heart lodges in my throat. He moves like a panther, strong and graceful, his corded muscles glistening in the overhead light. He pins his opponent a second time, then a third. By the time it’sover, I’m teetering on the edge of the mat, my body dangerously close to the ring itself.
Jace pulls off his helmet and spits out his mouth guard. “How’s that?”
“Nice work, Wilder,” the coach replies. “You’re gonna kill it on Friday.”
He shakes the sweat from his raven hair. “Thanks, Mike.” He bumps fists with his opponent before stepping out.
“That was intense,” I say.
He shrugs, wiping himself down with a towel. “Glad you liked it. Because you’re gonna be holdin’ up rounds on Friday when you lose our bet.”
It takes a full thirty seconds for my brain to come back down from the clouds. “Rounds?”
“Hope you have a bikini in that bag.” He chuckles, then hurls the towel into a nearby hamper. “I’ll meet you at the truck.” That’s all the explanation I get before he vanishes into the locker room.
Chapter four
Fashion has been my life for as far back as I can remember. The colors, the fabrics, the bold uniqueness of a designer’s eye … it’s a passion that runs through me like blood. Clothes aren’t just meant to hide your body; they’re an expression of who we are. The perfect outfit can change your life.
That being said, my “perfect” outfit today consists of a denim skirt and a black flannel shirt tied at the waist with a white tank underneath. I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in this Southern belle getup, but if I have to be this version of me for the interim, I can adapt. It may not change my life, but hopefully, it can alter how I’m perceived.