With a Hitch

by RC Boldt

  Darcy: Which gym? I go to FitWorld. Also, finishing at 7 a.m.? That’s just inhumane. I’m lucky if I drag myself out of bed on a Saturday by that time.

  I stare at the screen with surprise. Although it makes sense, I haven’t seen her there. I normally sneak in and out of that class when I need a little reprieve from the hardcore training mode and traveling during the season.

  Me: I go to that same gym.

  Darcy: Really? I didn’t realize they had a class that early, aside from the CrossFit classes.

  I hesitate, my thumbs hovering over the keys, before I silently utter a, “Fuck it,” and shoot off the rest.

  Me: Why don’t you meet me at 6:15 a.m. Saturday? Live life on the edge. Also, I hate typing on my phone. I’m literally all thumbs. Do you think we could chat on the phone? I mean, I understand if you’d rather keep things formal and businesslike with email.

  I don’t want to think about why the idea of hearing her voice is so damn appealing.

  Darcy: That’s fine. If you see a local number ending in 5309, it’s me.

  A moment later, the screen of my phone lights up with an incoming call as it vibrates. I immediately answer with a smile.

  “Well, hello there, 5309. Please tell me you begged them for 867 at the beginning.”

  Her laugh is husky. “Sadly, I must disappoint you.”

  “But that song’s a classic, Miss Cole.” That sounded like I was flirting with her, didn’t it? Fuck. I really hope she doesn’t interpret it like that.

  “So, you’re in Gainesville?” she asks without missing a beat. I breathe a silent sigh of relief when she doesn’t seem to think anything of my comment.

  “Yes, ma’am. With the youths.” I let out a long sigh. “Some of these kids are such…” I trail off with a wince.

  “They’re such…?” she prompts, amusement lacing her tone.

  My laughter is tinged with nervousness as I hesitate, and she continues. “You don’t have to monitor your language. You forget who my brother-in-law is. I’ve overheard him in the work shed out back carving a rocking chair. His language was off the charts when that wood splintered or whatever the hell happened.” She laughs, and the sound of it is light and oddly soothing.

  With a sigh, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. “It’s just different each year. This year seems worse with their sense of entitlement. As though they expect to just be handed a starting position without putting in any work. As if they shouldn’t have to work their asses off for it.” I exhale slowly. “Hell, I still have to bust my ass, and granted, I’m getting older…” I run my free hand over my head before muttering beneath my breath, “I just never knew eight-year-olds could be such assholes.”

  Her easy laughter washes over me, and I find myself smiling at the sound of it. We fall silent for a moment before she clears her throat.

  “So. For Saturday… I’m not entirely sold on the idea of waking up that early and for the sake of exercise when my usual class is at a completely acceptable time of nine a.m.”

  “Ahh, but you’re missing out.”

  She groans. “Fine. But I’m warning you. I won’t be very sociable that early. Especially without coffee.”

  “Leave that to me. I’ve got you covered. Let’s meet at six, so I can get you acquainted with the others.”

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret this? It sounds so covert.” There’s suspicion in her tone.

  “Trust me. I promise I’m on the up-and-up, but this class is top secret.”

  “It’s official. I’m freaked out.”

  I tip my head back on a laugh. “Don’t be. I promise, you’re in good hands.”

  “O-kay,” she says slowly with obvious hesitance. “I’ll see you on Saturday morning.”

  “Have a good night. And don’t work too hard.”

  “Can’t promise that.” There’s a hint of a smile in her words. “Good night, Dax.”

  8

  Darcy

  I should’ve never agreed to this. Nope. Not a smart move. Especially this early and without being properly caffeinated.

  Why did I agree to it? Plain and simple, I gave in because when the nation’s highest-paid and beloved wide receiver lightly coerces you in a voice that’s a shade husky and practically oozes sexiness, you can’t say no.

  Or at least I couldn’t say no. Because I’m weak.

  I enter the gym carrying a change of clothes and travel toiletries in a small bag slung over my shoulder. Quickly swiping my fob to check myself in at the front desk, I turn and squint over at the tall, muscular man leaning against the wall of the hallway leading to the rooms.

  He looks even more imposing in a sleeveless shirt that accentuates his biceps and stretches across that broad chest. Those nylon workout shorts do nothing to disguise his powerful thighs, further displaying his muscular calves. The fact he appears cheerful and far more awake than me elicits a low grunt of frustration as I approach. I draw to a stop a foot away and peer up at him. I realize he not only towers over my five-foot-nine height in three-inch heels, but his six-foot-five frame also seems more imposing now with me in my sneakers.

  He grins down at me and offers an insulated mug with a straw sticking out of the top. I regard it suspiciously, reluctant to accept it. “What’s this?” I start to pry the lid off when his hand covers mine to stop me.

  “Ah-ah. Just trust me. It’ll give you energy.” His grin widens. “Pep in your step.”

  I scowl at him and mutter, “Pep in my step, my ass,” and take a tiny sip of the mysterious drink.

  Only to rear back and stare at him in horror. Even that adorable dimple can’t deter me from gaping at him.

  “Kale.” I barely resist the urge to rush to the water fountain, rinse my mouth out, and scrub my tongue with the rough brown paper towels they have here. “You gave me. A. Kale. Smoothie,” I say accusingly.

  My glare evidently amuses him. That boyish smile and his damn endearing dimple flash at me. “It’s good for you.”

  “So’s seaweed, but you don’t see me eating that crap every day,” I mutter.

  “Take another sip,” he says patiently. “There’s other good stuff in there, too.”

  “Like what?” I challenge. “Chia seeds or some crap?”

  One dark brow lifts in amusement. “I’m impressed you know about those, but no. Fresh strawberries and blueberries and protein powder. All organic.”

  “Right,” I mutter sarcastically. “Because that’s my first concern at six in the morning. Whether the kale smoothie was legitimately organic or not.”

  His lips press thin, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he’s attempting to smother a laugh. His eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’re grouchy in the morning, huh?”

  I heave out a long breath. “Can we just get this over with, so I can get the coffee you promised me?”

  He taps the bottom of the mug I hold. “Drink a little more first. Trust me. You’ll feel better.”

  “Doubtful.” But I do, and the next sip isn’t nearly as traumatizing as the first.

  He places a hand on my lower back and steers me down the hallway to the last door on the left. Normally, I don’t like any traces of manhandling or men taking charge of me, but I’m too tired to put up a fuss. Also, the way Dax guides me is nice… and different. Almost protective in nature. Caring.

  He stops outside a door at the end of the hallway. It’s closed, which seems odd when he said the class doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes, but whatever. His expression makes me falter, suddenly serious.

  “These ladies are pretty protective about who comes to this class, which is why it’s not posted on the gym’s schedule. I just want to give you a heads-up.”

  “O-kay,” I say slowly. I’m starting to freak out about this…

  “Let me introduce you and—”

  The door opens, and a woman with perfectly coiffed hair who can’t be much younger than eighty years old peers over at us. She eyes me suspiciously befo
re beaming up at Dax.

  “I was worried you weren’t going to make it.” She flutters her eyelashes.

  She actually flutters. Her. Eyelashes.

  A faint blush spreads across his cheeks, and he smiles at her. “I promised I’d make it as long as I wasn’t out of town for work.”

  Her whimsical sigh would be hilarious if it weren’t so apparent she’s serious. “I know, but I worry about you.” Suddenly focusing on me, her eyes narrow. “Especially about you being accosted by wily females.”

  I snap my head around to Dax and raise my eyebrows. “Wily females, huh? You have issues with them that I’m not aware of?”

  He drags a hand down his face as if embarrassed. “Uh, not really.” Then he says to her, “Beatrice, this is Darcy.” He quickly adds, “She’s a friend.”

  Beatrice raises her nose in the air. “Friend, huh? Not so sure Mabel will like this news.”

  My eyes volley back and forth between these two as I continue sipping my smoothie. I feel like I may witness some sort of geriatric showdown in their quest to win the young bachelor.

  “Well.” Dax lowers his chin, his expression sobering. “She’s my friend, and she should feel welcome just like any of my other friends.”

  Beatrice holds his gaze for a beat before offering a curt nod. “Let’s get started.” She spins around and enters the room.

  Dax’s eyes lock with mine, a hint of an apology in the depths. “Sorry about that.”

  I press the now empty mug to his chest. “You should be. It seems like you’re throwing me to the wolves, Kendrick.”

  “Nah.” He smiles. “We’re just going to enjoy a Zumba Fitness class.”

  I gape. “I’m sorry. What?”

  That smile widens. “Zumba.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “Nope. Prepare to be amazed and mystified by my rhythm.” He waves a hand toward the open doorway. “After you.” When I hesitate, he leans in so close his clean, masculine scent surrounds me, and he whispers, “See if you think it’s worthy of adding to my profile afterward.” With a wink, he ushers me inside the room.

  “Dax!”

  “Oh, Dax is here!”

  “Hey, handsome!”

  Collective welcomings greet us—or Dax rather—from what must be fifteen women with either gray, white, or blue-tinged hair, all over the age of sixty.

  Evidently, Dax Kendrick has quite the fan club with the AARP crowd.

  I stand back while he’s swarmed by the women, their perfect hairdos a bit out of place for a class at the gym.

  “Oooh, your biceps have gotten even bigger than last time.” One woman exclaims this while gripping his left arm before her expression turns worried. “You’re not juicing, are you? Because we all know that’s not good for the…” Her words trail off as her attention travels down to his groin. He shifts uncomfortably and moves the mug in his grip in front of him to block her view.

  “Pffft.” Another waves a dismissive hand. “As if Dax needs to do any of that.” This one beams up at him as if he’s just invented a better-tasting Metamucil.

  A faint blush rises over his light brown skin, and our eyes catch. He offers one of those boyish aw, shucks grins, and that damn dimple peeks out at me.

  Suddenly warm, I glance around the room. Is this hot Zumba, maybe? I pinch the fabric of my shirt and fan it against me, trying to get some air.

  Once he successfully tears himself away from his swarm of admirers, he sidles up to me. I raise an eyebrow. “So.”

  He glances away, running a hand over his close-cropped dark hair, but doesn’t answer.

  “I sense a story here. How you got into this.” I tip my head to the side.

  His gaze lands on me, and his lips part. His bottom lip is so full and lush, it’s practically begging to be nibbled on.

  Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?

  “Take your places, everyone!” the instructor announces.

  Dax’s hand returns to my lower back, sending prickles of awareness shimmering through me as he guides me near where I assume is his usual spot. He dips his head to whisper in my ear. “Try to keep up.”

  I shoot him a sharp look, silently saying, Whatever, dude. I shake out my limbs, trying to warm up.

  I do hot yoga. How challenging can a geriatric Zumba class actually be?

  “What in the fresh hell just happened?” With a groan, I collapse on the floor of the workout room.

  “You got schooled by a bunch of old fogies.”

  I stare up at a grinning Dax. “Hey,” I warn. Of course, it comes out sounding more strangled than anything close to intimidating.

  “It’s true.” He crouches beside me and gives my knee a quick pat. “But I enjoyed witnessing your competitive streak.”

  I merely respond with a huff and sling a sweaty arm over my eyes.

  “Come on, Cole. Let’s go hit the showers.”

  Let’s go hit the showers. A surge of arousal hits me like a ton of bricks.

  Wait, what? I instantly stiffen at the realization that Dax’s words somehow sounded sexual, and I… Oh, holy shit, just no. Noooo. I force myself to shake off the weird effect. It must be the Zumba.

  Yes, that’s it. I mentally nod, already feeling better.

  Withdrawing my arm, I heave out a sigh and open my eyes to find a large palm outstretched. I place mine in his and allow him to haul me to my feet.

  We walk over to where we stowed our bags in small cubbies at the back of the room and withdraw them. We head through the gym toward the locker rooms and he pauses outside the entrance, appearing to wrestle with whether to say something.

  “What is it?” I ask warily.

  Dark brows slant together, and he glances around before lowering his voice. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this. It’s kind of an agreement with the management of the gym and the ladies in the class to keep it hush-hush…”

  “Of course.” I’m slightly offended he’d even consider I might run my mouth about this.

  “I just”—he averts his gaze and bites the edge of his lower lip before continuing—“work hard to keep certain parts of my life untouched from…”

  “The rest of the world,” I finish softly. “I get it.”

  That dimple reappears when he grins. “Let me wash the Zumba stink off me, and I’ll meet you out here in a few?”

  “Sounds good.” We both turn and head to our respective locker rooms. Just as I step through the entrance, something makes me turn around and look at Dax once more. It catches me by surprise when our eyes lock, and he gives a quick wink before disappearing through the doorway.

  The entire time I shower and dress, I can’t shake the feeling that Dax Kendrick is a force to be reckoned with.

  “Oh my God, that’s so good.” I don’t even attempt to stifle my part groan, part moan while I relish in the flavor of the hazelnut latte pleasuring my taste buds. I lean back in my seat and let my eyes fall closed. “The caffeine. I can already feel it working.”

  Silence is all that greets me. Then it hits me.

  Shit. I’m with a client. I mean, sure, he’s not the average client, but still. I’m acting like a weirdo who’s experiencing her first caffeine high.

  Mentally shaking off the moment, I straighten and open my eyes, forcing myself to scour up professionalism.

  I falter when I discover Dax’s gaze is centered on me. Those tiny lines that fan out from the corners of his eyes, serving as a testament to the fact that he laughs and smiles often, draw me in like human catnip.

  The corners of his mouth uptick in amusement. “Should I give you two a moment?”

  I sigh in response and take another grateful sip of the warm, sweet brew.

  “You have a thing for coffee, I take it?”

  It doesn’t escape my notice that he ordered a protein smoothie from the shop.

  I pin him with a challenging look. “And you’re against it?”

  He shakes his head. “Not at all. I just need to
be careful what I put in my body. Especially now that I’m not exactly in my prime anymore.” Something indecipherable flashes across his face before I can make anything of it.

  With a dubious expression, I squint at him. “You have zero body fat and muscles everywhere. I’m pretty sure you’re still riding your prime.”

  His eyes flicker, darkening with what I’d gauge as interest in anyone else, but it’s Dax, so… “You noticed my muscles?”

  I force a nonchalant shrug. “Me and everyone else who’s seen any of your body wash and underwear ads.”

  My eyes widen with dismay because no way in hell had I meant to say that. Shit. Not good. I wave a hand dismissively. “I mean, you’re on billboards and in TV ads.”

  His lips twitch as if he’s trying to refrain from grinning. “Uh-huh.”

  I clear my throat and slide my coffee to the side. Reaching into my bag, I retrieve my pen and legal pad with some notes I jotted down beforehand. “I need to go over something with you…”

  I glance around to ensure we’re still secluded in this combo smoothie/coffee shop Dax chose for us. He steered me to the last booth in the back of the place, promising me he knows the owners and could nearly guarantee our privacy and lack of paparazzi intrusion.

  Considering the discussion we’re about to have, it’s perfect. Because a certain someone decided to gloss over his responses in the section pertaining to his sexual preferences. Even though it’s necessary, it can sometimes be a bit awkward when discussing this with clients.

  I tap the end of my pen to my pad and eye him. “You didn’t think you’d get away with not completing the intake form just because your best friend’s married to my sister, did you?”

  A sheepish smile pulls at his lips, and he runs a hand over his close-cropped hair. This only serves to draw my eyes to the massive biceps bared by the short sleeves of his button-down shirt. It’s almost inhumane that someone with muscles like his exists. I actually feel bad for his poor shirt. It’s stretching around all the curves of muscle, probably crying out, Ease up on the gym time, bro.