by Roni Loren
“Yeah, the dark-haired one came to the hospital to pick up the guy who helped you,” Rebecca said. “Wes teased me about my head being on a swivel when they passed.”
Taryn smirked. “He wasn’t offended?”
Rebecca snorted. “My husband knows he’s pretty and that he’s got me completely hooked. He’s got no worries.”
“He’s got no worries regardless. Rivers, the one dressed as Indiana Jones, is gay,” Kincaid said, taking the exit for Long Acre. “And Lucas has his eye on one lady right now, and she’s sitting in the front seat.”
Taryn shook her head. “That better not be what this whole thing is about, Kincaid, because you’re wrong. He’s a nice guy, and yes, easy to look at, but he’s not interested in me that way. He’s already turned me down. He said he’s got too much going on with opening the gym. So I’m willing to go and work out with you, but you have to promise me you’re not going to try to play matchmaker again. That’s not what this is about. This is about getting some exercise and stress relief.”
Kincaid made a dismissive sound. “Sex with a hot guy can be great stress relief.”
“Amen,” Liv said with a laugh. “I’m on that fitness plan and fully endorse it.”
“Hallelujah,” Rebecca added, lifting her palm in praise.
“Hush, you two, with your hot men and all your sex. It’s not nice to gloat.” Taryn poked Kincaid in the arm. “And you, Miss Thing, have to promise this is exercise only or I’m not going. That’s my hard limit. This is not ‘get Taryn a date,’ part two.”
“What if it’s just ‘get Taryn laid’ and not dating per se?”
“Kincaid!”
“Fine.” Kincaid didn’t look pleased, but she relented. “Your loss. Just exercise.”
Taryn narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Okay, then it’s a deal.”
Kincaid tapped the steering wheel as if she were stamping a contract. “Excellent. They’re opening for a sneak-preview week for special guests only, and I got us in. We start on Tuesday. I’ve already signed us up and paid our deposits.”
“You what?” Taryn said, exasperated. “You didn’t even know I would agree.”
Kincaid reached out and patted Taryn on the knee. “Oh, honey, you’re cute.”
“No one resists the unicorn,” Liv said with a wry smile in the rearview mirror. “Don’t even try.”
Kincaid neighed like a horse and dipped her head, even though she’d tossed her unicorn horn in the trunk, and the other women laughed.
Taryn rolled her eyes, but inside, warmth spread through her chest. Her friends were being lighthearted with her, but she got the message loud and clear. We care. We’re here. And we’re not going to let you get away with not taking care of yourself. Get it together, girl.
Now she just had to figure out if she actually could.
* * *
Early Tuesday morning, Shaw bounced on the balls of his feet, getting his blood pumping and his muscles warmed up. He’d already gone through a series of stretches, but he needed to make sure he was fully limbered up. Yesterday’s unofficial grand opening had done a number on him. The buzz from the charity race had worked, and they’d had a steady stream of sneak-preview invitees coming by for demonstrations, tours, and intro workouts.
Shaw had given countless demos on the obstacle courses for their potential customers to prove the challenges weren’t impossible and then had coached a number of newbies on how to safely get started. Even though he’d worked hard to get his body back in top condition over the last year, the obstacles were no joke. He’d fallen into the pool twice when he’d lost his grip, the foam pits half a dozen times, and he’d tumbled down a ramp on another challenge. His muscles had protested when he’d rolled over in bed this morning, begging for a few more hours of rest or a hot tub.
He’d forced himself up at dawn, though. The morning workout was nonnegotiable. Both the doctor and therapist had told him after he’d gotten arrested that anger was like a hungry monster living inside him, and he had to keep it tamed. Intermittent explosive disorder. Three words scrawled onto his permanent medical record that he couldn’t erase—or even deny after how he’d acted. The main doctor had said it was probably a genetic predisposition, that he would need to stay on psychiatric medication to keep it in check. Shaw had tried that for a while. But the meds had just made him feel sick and…numb. He’d already watched his dad get lost in pills, seeking that numbness. Shaw had accepted that something was broken inside him, but he didn’t want to live life feeling like a hollow shell.
So he’d visited another doctor, one who wasn’t sold on Shaw’s treatment plan and who was open to alternatives. She’d told Shaw physical activity and stress management techniques could be as effective as medication in some people with anger problems. In other words, if there was a beast inside Shaw, he could exhaust the motherfucker and keep it leashed. Exertion had become his medicine.
Shafts of early-morning sunshine angled through the gym skylights and reflected off the pools, making the walls look as if they were in motion. Soon, the place would, hopefully, be filled with more potential members, but for now, it was all his. He leaned over and turned a knob on the wall, dialing up the volume of the music as he faced down the tumbling floor in front of him. Pearl Jam’s “Not for You” screamed through the speakers. A concert for one.
Shaw stretched his arms and shoulders one last time and eyed the expanse of blue floor in front of him. Floor exercise had never been his favorite event, but there was nothing like good, hard tumbling first thing in the morning to get his mind in the right place. Well…there was one other good, hard activity that could have a similar relaxing effect, but that wasn’t an option these days unless it was by his own hand. Flipping through the air would have to do.
He stood at the corner of the floor, centered his focus, and then took off in a run. In one fluid motion, he went to the floor, his palms landing against the mat, and propelled himself into the tumbling pass. The world blurred around him as his body went through a routine that had been burned into his muscle memory. It wasn’t as elaborate as the one that had qualified him for the World Championships—an event he’d had to drop out of after Long Acre. His body was over a decade older and the risk of injury higher, but it was still a challenging pass that took all of his concentration. His feet landed at the far corner of the floor mat, and his momentum carried him into taking a big step back.
Stick the landing. The berating voice was familiar. His old coach still lived inside Shaw’s head. He took a rib-expanding breath and made another pass, ending with a full twisting layout. This time, he made it to the corner, and his feet only bobbled the landing with a tiny step. Better. Though he used to be able to make the layout a double with no bobble at all.
His muscles complained with the effort, the aches from yesterday making themselves known, but Shaw wasn’t near stopping. The harder he practiced, the more those pains would ease and his thoughts would quiet. He could start his day in that place of peaceful exhaustion.
The song hit its angry, cathartic peak, the gritty vocals echoing around him, and Shaw fell into the rhythm of the music. Run and tumble. Stick the landing. Sweat dripped down his back, and his breath came in shorter bursts. Any stress he’d been feeling when he’d awoken this morning faded into the background.
He’d have to stop soon. Rivers was probably in the office by now and readying the place to open the doors. Shaw would need to shower and get prepared for work, but he couldn’t resist a few more passes. He pushed his body to find a little more.
When he stuck the landing cold on the last pass, something loosened in his gut. There it was, that little high that came with hitting his limit. Mission accomplished. He rode that buzz and reached for the towel he’d left nearby. He wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes and then pulled the rubber band from his soaked hair to scrub the towel over his head, missing the ease of his former
short haircut, even though Rivers regularly reminded him that the military cut hadn’t been doing him any favors. You’re ruining a good face with a buzz cut. Give a woman something to hold on to. Rivers hadn’t yet gotten it through his head that there would be no woman.
“Looks like you could use some water.” A female voice behind Shaw cut through the opening of the next song and his thoughts like a blade.
He stilled, startled for a moment, and then spun around. He’d expected a stranger, maybe a new hire. Rivers had brought on a small team of part-timers who were training this week. But the familiar face that greeted Shaw had his ribs cinching. Big brown eyes and a face he’d thought about way too much since leaving the hospital Sunday night.
What was Taryn doing here? Shaw turned down the music, trying to piece the puzzle together and not show his reaction on his face. “Uh, hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. I thought we were still closed.”
“You are.” Taryn’s gaze dipped to his bare chest. He’d only thrown on a pair of running shorts since they were easy to tumble in, but for some reason, he felt bare naked standing there. He liked the way she was looking at him a little too much. He draped the towel over his shoulder, and her attention quickly jumped back to his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Rivers said it was okay to come out here.”
She looked so out of place in her tan slacks, pale-green top, and heels. All cool sophistication in the thick, chlorine-scented air of the gym. Smart. Lush. Beautiful. His hands flexed at his sides, the lyrics to the song he’d been blasting whispering through his head. Not for you.
“I hope that’s all right,” she said tentatively.
He realized he’d been staring and silent and dragged his focus back to where it needed to be. “Um, of course. How are you doing? You look better.”
She smiled. “I hope so. Hospital blue really isn’t my color.”
He winced. “I mean…”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I know what you mean. And yes, I’m feeling a lot better. I got some rest and only worked a half day yesterday.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Taryn held out a bottle of water, her movements a little stiff, almost awkward. “Rivers gave me this, but you probably need it more than I do.” She nodded at the mat. “That was…something.”
So she’d seen him tumbling. Shit. He never did that stuff in front of anyone but Rivers anymore. The risk of people putting two and two together was too high. He searched Taryn’s face, looking for any hint of recognition, but her expression was simply curious. He accepted the water and took a long swig. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he finally said, “Thanks. Just getting the blood pumping before I get started today.”
“That’ll do it. I love that song.”
He took another gulp of the water. “You should add it to your set list when you do your next big show at the Tipsy Hound.”
She laughed in a self-conscious way that was so endearing it made a smile jump to his face as well. She shook her head. “Um, so that won’t be happening. There’s no encore show, and I’m not sure I could pull off that kind of vocal anyway.”
He narrowed his eyes. After hearing her sing, he had no doubt she could pull off some Eddie Vedder and nail the emotion of it, too, but he let it go. “So, is there something I can help you with?”
“Right. Reason I’m here. I should’ve probably led with that.” She rubbed her lips together, smoothing the pink gloss there. “My very loving yet pushy friend Kincaid has signed me up for sessions here. They start today, and I have another scheduled on Friday. With you.”
A record scratch sounded in his head. “Wait, what?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I figured you didn’t know. I think she set it up with Rivers. I’m supposed to come in tonight after work.”
Shaw swallowed. Hell. In every other universe, this would’ve been a boon. An attractive woman wanting hands-on training from him? Yes, please. Sign him up. But he already felt like this was barreling into dangerous territory. He liked Taryn a little too much. Had thought about her a little too often the past few days. Had thought about how sexy she’d been when she was singing, then how down-to-earth she’d been when they’d talked. How she’d looked at him like she wanted him. She was temptation personified, and that was the last thing he needed. “Right. Okay.”
She gave him a chagrined smile. “So, I’m here because I kinda sorta asked you out twice, and both times, you bailed right after. And I just wanted to let you know that I’m not, like, stalking you or anything.”
He stared at her for a long moment and then burst into a laugh. “What?”
She crossed her arms and cocked her hip as if affronted, but a small smile peeked through. “It wasn’t until after I agreed to do this with Kincaid that I realized how it might look to you.”
He coughed over the last of his laugh. “How it might look. Like you were a stalker. Like that is a thing I would actually think about you.”
Now she was in full grin. “Well, you could! I don’t know. I’m just here to state for the record that I am not a woman who throws herself at some guy. I’m simply coming here for a workout and some stress relief. No ulterior motives.”
He nodded in mock seriousness. “So you haven’t tattooed my name on your shoulder or anything yet?”
“Of course not,” she said, smile falling, eyes wide and solemn. “Only your initials.”
She delivered it with such a serious tone that it took him a second to get it. When it clicked, another laugh, a sound he’d almost forgotten, rumbled out of him and shook his shoulders. “Well, that’s a relief.”
Her smile returned. “But seriously, you’re okay being my trainer?”
No. Absolutely not. Danger! Danger! “Of course. As long as your doctor has cleared you to exercise.”
She gave him a thumbs-up. “All clear. Apparently getting sweaty is the best prescription for what happened to me on Sunday.”
“Getting sweaty is…” His mind wandered off leash, and dirty pictures unfolded in front of him—Taryn’s smooth skin glistening with exertion, his hands tracing paths along her curves, slipping off clothes, tasting the salt on her skin, feeling her heat wrap around him. He cleared his throat, trying to shove the images into a deep closet in his mind. “Yeah, it’s good stuff. Sweating’s good.”
She adjusted her glasses, still smiling, but something unreadable flickering in her eyes. “Great. Well then, I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yep. See you then,” he said, managing to keep his voice casual. “Looking forward to it.”
She gave him one last glance and then headed back toward the hallway that led to the offices and the entrance. He let his gaze follow her all the way out—every damn swish of her hips, every click of her heels. As soon as she was out of view, he took the ice-cold water and dumped it right over his head, hissing at the sting.
Just a pretty woman. Just a pretty woman.
He could handle this.
This was nothing more than hormones and being hard up and pure physical reactions. Nothing he couldn’t wrangle. He’d tamed a lot worse demons.
By the time Taryn walked in tonight, he’d have these reactions on lockdown. He slicked his hair back and groaned. But first, maybe a really long shower.
Chapter
Eight
“You are not doing this to me, Kincaid,” Taryn said into the speakerphone as she turned the steering wheel, driving off the half-flooded road and into the parking lot behind the gym. Hard rain spattered her window with a relentless drumbeat. “You’re screwing with me.”
Kincaid made a pained sound. “God, I wish I was. I’m not messing with you, I swear. I am so sorry. Today has been a total nightmare. This house sale was supposed to close yesterday, and then today has been issue after issue. I can’t leave yet, and even if I did, I’m all the way o
ut in Wilder, and it’s storming here. I just saw a group of stray dogs joining up two by two and looking for an ark. You’re going to have to do the first session without me.”
“No way. I’m going to go home and get some work done,” Taryn said, irritated after fighting traffic and torrential rain to get to the gym and now finding out that Kincaid was bailing.
“No, please, don’t,” Kincaid begged. “I feel terrible. I promise this isn’t one of my schemes. I have my gym bag in the car and was looking forward to tonight. Please don’t cancel because of me. They kept the gym open late just for us, and you need this. We were going to be training with separate people anyway. This won’t be that different.”
Taryn blew out a breath and tipped her head back against the car seat. “You swear this isn’t some trick?”
“Cross my heart,” Kincaid said, sincerity in her voice. “This is important to me. I want you to have some fun and wanted to be there for it. I promise I’ll be there for the next session. This was just a freak thing. Please go.”
Taryn pressed the ignition button, cutting off the engine, and listened to the rain. She really didn’t feel like working out. She also didn’t feel like fighting more rush-hour traffic and a downpour on the hour-long drive home to Long Acre. At least if she stayed a while at the gym, traffic and hopefully the storm would die out, letting some of the drains catch up and clear the roads. “Fine. I’m here already, so I’ll go in for a short session. But if this is horrible, you owe me all the chips and queso I want.”
“Deal. But I don’t think it’s going to be bad. Just do what you can and have fun. Hold on. Hey, Harold, don’t let them sign that yet. I’ll be right there.” There were voices in the background as Kincaid dealt with her clients. “Taryn, I’ve got to go, honey, but let me know how everything went later. Don’t pull any muscles or break any bones.”
“Encouraging,” Taryn said wryly, but Kincaid was already gone.
Taryn ended the phone call and looked toward the glass doors of the gym, the light from the building the only bright spot under the dark clouds and rain. As she stared, trying to psych herself up for this, the light shifted and a silhouette filled the space—broad and tall. She was beginning to recognize that outline. Her belly tightened, nerves and something else making her tense. She’d visited the gym earlier today to squash any awkwardness that could arise with Lucas, but her body hadn’t gotten the message that she wasn’t supposed to react this way around him.
