by Tia Louise
A client enters the weight room looking for a trainer. He’s an older man, and what he really wants is a spotter. Still, I follow him around, giving him tips and helping him move up a plate on his bench pressing. His name is Seth, and he’s a regular, salt-of-the-earth Midwestern type.
“How long you been in town?” he asks between sets.
“Only a few days,” I say, wrapping the gym towel around my hand as I wait for him to recover.
“Jim says you’re from Hawaii?” He says the word like How are Ya.
“Not originally.” I move to the head of the bench as he lies back and puts his hands in place. I give the bar a lift and steady it as he begins his final set. “I grew up in New Jersey, but my family is originally from Molokai.”
“Never heard of that.” He grunts as he exhales.
“It’s one of the islands.”
He finishes the last set and stands, putting a towel over his shoulder. “How long you planning to be in town?”
“Not sure, sir.” It’s noon, and I figure I’ll follow him out, see if I get a lunch break.
“Well, I’ll keep my eye out for ya. Take it easy.”
“Thanks,” I say, stopping off at the juice bar. He continues down the hall stopping at Andy’s office. Nobody’s behind the counter, and I look around for a schedule.
I’m about to ask, when Andy steps out of his office and asks to see me. Heading down the hall, I enter the closet-sized space.
“Close the door a minute.” He’s behind his desk.
I comply, and before I can even ask him what this is about, he launches into a speech.
“Look, I get it. Mercy’s hot. It’s how I know a member’s gay — if he don’t notice Mercy.” He sits and makes a note on the large calendar in front of him.
“I don’t understand.” He’s coming straight out of left field.
“Hell, she’s sexy as all get out, but she’s Off. Limits. You get me?” He finishes writing and cuts his eyes up to me. “Keep your mitts off Mercy.”
What the fuck? For starters, I won’t mention how my mitts were all over Mercy night before last — and how much she loved it. I’m more curious what the hell is going on with this chick and why.
“Off limits.” I repeat, doing my best to stay neutral. Still, my curiosity is overwhelming. “Like a princess.”
“Exactly.” His brows lower over his dark eyes. “Mercy is one of the blue bloods in this town. I don’t know why she’s slumming with us, but she’s a good worker and clients like her. Piss her off, and you’re fired.”
“I see.” Humans don’t order me around. Ever. Still, I keep my voice level. “I’m not looking to piss off anybody, and I’m not interested in Mercy.”
It’s possible that’s a lie. I haven’t decided.
Andy relaxes and even cracks a small smile as he stands. “Right. I’m sorry if I seem stern. Just had to give you the warning.”
The warning? What the fuck does that mean?
He reaches across the desk to shake. “We good?”
Try as I might, I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice this time. “That girl is safe as the crown jewels.”
I’m ready to go out there and find out what the hell crawled up her ass. Only, I guess I was just told to stay away from her. Shit.
“Hey, I’m not pissed or anything,” Andy continues. He’s around the desk on my side now, patting my shoulder. “Seth stopped in to tell me you’re a good spotter, and he never compliments anybody.”
“I guess that makes things even,” I say, heading for the door.
“Chalk it up to on the job training.”
He can chalk it up to whatever he wants. I’m calling it a day. “See you tomorrow,” I say.
“Monday,” he calls from behind me. “Gym’s closed on Sundays. You know. God.”
“Right.” I wave and head out the door, wondering what I’ll do with an entire day on my own. Seems like a good time to get to the bottom of this place, so I can get back on the road.
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Boundaries
Mercy
Andy’s Gym is one thing I will miss when I leave Woodland Creek. It’s quirky and fun, and it’s the first place I really spread my wings outside of Dylan’s control. I got to know residents of the town, and I became something of a leader.
I arrive a half-hour before self-defense class in case Sally shows up for strength training. I hadn’t set a definite time for us to meet, so I have no idea when to expect her — a situation I plan to remedy today.
As I make my way inside, heading to the juice bar to stash my bag and pick up my nametag, I bump into Jim. Funny, simple Jim.
“Ready to hit me with your best shot?” I tease, giving him a wink.
“No, dude.” He shakes his head, eyes round. “I would never hit you.”
His sweet response makes me smile. “It’s just an expression. I know you’re only pretending to attack me.”
“Still… You defend yourself pretty hard.”
“I try not to.”
“It’s weird, you know,” his head cocks to the side. “You’re really strong to be so little.”
“It’s all the strength training,” I deflect. Can’t have him knowing the real reason for my unusual strength. “You know, the kickboxing and stuff.”
“Oh, dude! Andy hired a boxer yesterday to help with the men. He’s a real cool guy.”
Interesting. Andy didn’t say he was looking for help. “Really?”
“Yeah, and he’s living in the apartment above my Aunt Doris’s garage.”
“That so?” The bell above the door rings, and the small blonde enters. A timid smile curls her lips when she sees me, and I wave her over, hoping to put her at ease.
“Yeah, I’ll introduce you if—”
“After class, okay?” I give Jim a wink and head out to meet my client. “Sally! Hi!”
“Hi, Miss Mercy.”
Putting my arm around her shoulder, I give her a brief hug. “I told you, it’s just Mercy. I’m only twenty-three.”
Her eyes brighten. “That’s how old I am!”
“See? Come on then.” I turn and lead her back to the weight room, thinking through a course of training that won’t be too hard for a beginner. “In the future, we should probably do these sessions after self-defense so you’re not too tired for…”
The words die on my lips as we enter the small weight room. The staccato Pow! Pow! Pow-pow-pow! of gloves clipping the heavy bag draws our attention, and I freeze on the spot. An incredibly sexy mountain of a man I immediately recognize is in the corner, giving the boxing set a run for its money.
With every precise jab, his muscles ripple across his shoulders and arms. His biceps flex, and I can feel them in my fingertips. He circles to the side, and I see the line in his square jaw move beneath the shadow of his beard. I can’t help a shiver remembering how it felt against my skin.
Chin tucked against one broad shoulder, he’s so focused, so powerful and intimidating, I don’t even realize I’m staring or my breath is shallow. All I can think about is the meadow, me on his lap riding hard, him behind me, pounding as I moan in ecstasy.
“He’s good,” Sally whispers at my side, pulling me from my erotic daze.
“Y-yes,” I say, clearing my throat. My whole body is on fire.
The staccato pops stop, and Koa notices us as well. He straightens, lowering his gloves, and his dark brow flinches slightly over his green eyes. I know he’s as surprised to see me as I am to see him.
He picks up a towel to wipe his face before walking to us, and I step back, my emotions swirling in my chest. He’s not supposed to be here. I already decided he needed to keep going. He needed to stay a hot memory. Someone like Koa in Woodland Creek will only distract me, weaken my resolve to leave this place, and I have to leave here or I’ll never be free.
“Mercy…” his low voice is a tingling vibration in my chest, but I fight against it. I have to fight him the same as I fight D
ylan, even if it’s for vastly different reasons.
Stepping forward, I draw on all the frustration I feel at being a prisoner in this place, at being alone in that mansion, ordered around like a slave, my dreams always dismissed as silly.
“What are you doing here?” My whisper is sharp, and my inner lynx cringes.
He’s surprised by my tone and my words, but he covers quickly. “I don’t know exactly,” he says in that sexy bass.
“If you stayed for me, you’re wasting your time.” Every word is a slice to my heart. I don’t want to push him away, but I can’t have him chaining me to this place. “Stay away from me.”
He straightens as if I’ve slapped him. I don’t blame him. I’m not making any sense after the glorious night we spent together.
His tone is angry when he replies. “Don’t worry princess, you’ve got all the space you need.”
He turns his gorgeous, muscled back on me, and I want to cry. He has every right to be angry. He can’t possibly understand why I’m saying these things, but I have to put distance between us. My entire body is trembling as I return to Sally. She can tell I’m upset, but she doesn’t say anything. I can’t imagine what she must be thinking, but there’s no time.
“I-I’m sorry, Sally.” I’m struggling to regain my composure. “We have to go out front for class.”
“It’s okay.” Another timid smile. “I don’t mind starting my training next week.”
“Thank you.” I touch her arm, and she follows me to the front.
The group of twelve mostly college-aged girls from Thursday waits for us, and Jim is in his padded suit ready to attack me.
“Welcome to the Art of Self Defense,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to summon my drill sergeant tone. I’m completely off my game knowing Koa is in the back and knowing what I just said to him.
I want to run home and hide and cry, but I have to be a badass. I am a badass. The fact he has this effect on me is exactly why I have to stick to my guns and not see him again. Whatever he’s doing here has nothing to do with me. I’m about getting out of here, no matter who I have to leave behind.
“Today we’re going to focus on defending yourself from a frontal attack…”
I’m lying on a velvet couch in the large living room staring at the dark flatscreen wishing my best friend Lana hadn’t moved to New York. I don’t have many friends in Woodland Creek, thanks to my sister. Hayden called earlier, but I let his call go to voicemail. Checking the voicemail, I hear him asking if I’d like to go to dinner.
“Fuck you very much,” I say under my breath, thinking of a million other things I’d rather do than be with him.
My phone is in my hand, and I’m staring at the screen when it lights up with a text, and I almost drop it.
Hi, Mercy! Hope you don’t mind, Jim gave me your number. I thought since we’re the same age, you might like to have a girls night or something.
I’m pretty sure I know who this is without asking, but I ask anyway.
Maybe… Who is this?
Oh! Sorry — it’s Sally. Want to meet up at the Spare Lounge?
It’s sad that I’m actually happy to be invited to the bowling bar in town, but I don’t care. I’m dying to get out of this empty mansion. Aunt Penny has been avoiding me for some reason ever since our strange conversation yesterday about great-great aunt Persephone.
Sure! What time? I text back.
About an hour?
I’ll be there in bowling shoes.
Oh, they provide the shoes.
I don’t reply it was a joke. Instead I simply text okay and hop off the couch, heading to my room to pull on skinny jeans and a scoop-necked black top. Oversized silver hoop earrings and a long necklace complete the look. I might be a bit too elegant for bowling, but I don’t care. It’s been a while since I went out.
The Spare Lounge is surprisingly crowded, but it is Saturday night, I guess. Several gym members are at one end having a heated competition on the last four lanes. Sally is waiting in a center lane in jeans and a light blue polo shirt. She’s wearing rainbow-colored bowling shoes and a smile.
“Thanks for coming out!” she hops toward me. “Let’s find you a ball.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” I grin, following her to the rack holding multi-colored bowling balls. “I have to tell you. I’ve only bowled twice in my life.”
“That’s okay,” she says, studying the lineup. “I’m trying it for the first time tonight.”
“Really?” My brow lines as I watch her.
“My therapist says I need to get out more. Be more social.”
“Oh.” Nodding, I study her a moment. She seems harmless. I suppose if I had a therapist — not that I think I need one — he or she would say the same thing. “Then we should be evenly matched.”
“Only you’re a lot stronger than I am.” She picks up a swirly purple ball and hands it to me. “How’s that one?”
It feels very light, but after all her effort handing it to me, I decide to cover. “You’re a bowling wizard! This feels exactly right.”
That wins me a little smile. “Run get your shoes. I’ll set up our scoreboard.”
Following orders, I go to the center island and hand over my Michael Kors pumps and am rewarded with a funky-looking pair of slick-soled, patchwork lace-ups.
“These are clean, right?” Cutting my blue eyes at the guy behind the counter, I ignore his stunned expression.
“Uhhh… yeah?”
So not encouraging. “Thanks.”
When I return to our lane, Sally has not only set up our scorecard, she’s ordered us a pitcher of cheap beer. I’ve never been happier to indulge. Today sucked ass, most specifically this morning when I pushed Koa away. I’ve been brooding about it ever since.
“I’ll get the next round,” I say, as she stands and clumsily picks up a swirly green ball.
She staggers forward toward the lane, and I worry for a second she might trip and end up dragged down the lane like one of those blooper reels, fingers still in the ball. She swings her arm back and then manages to release it in time. Sadly, it only rolls a few feet before heading straight to the gutter. Lips poked out, she turns and stomps back toward me.
“That’s okay!” I call. “Try again!” Her brows knit, and I nod. “You get two tries.”
She stops at the ball carousel and waits until her swirly green ball pops out of the chute. Picking it up, she repeats the entire process exactly the same, even down to the tense first moments, when I fear she might wind up in the pins.
Another gutter ball. “I suck,” she sighs, stomping back to where I sit and flopping into a plastic chair beside me.
“No!” I try to be encouraging. “You’re just learning! Practice is the key to everything.”
Standing, I pick up the purple ball and walk to the lane. Vaguely I recall giving up on bowling because I didn’t see the point. Lifting the ball behind me, I swing my arm forward releasing it in a perfect glide that slams into the backboard, all pins down.
“Strike!” Sally cries from behind me.
Turning back, I roll my eyes and shrug. “Beginner’s luck?”
“Oh, shut up. You’re good at everything.” Her sassy response makes me laugh, and I skip over to her, lifting a plastic cup of beer and taking a long drink before dropping to the chair beside her.
“Your turn,” I say.
“I thought you got to go twice?”
“Not when you bowl a strike. I’ll get the score for my next two rolls.”
She exhales loudly and pushes up, going to the carousel to retrieve her green ball. Two more rounds; two more gutter balls. I’m trying not to laugh as she sulks back to me and pours another large plastic cup of beer.
“I suck ass,” she cries, taking a long gulp.
“You do not,” I say, walking to take my next two shots. As anticipated, I bowl another strike, and Sally makes a cry of disgust.
Laughing, I turn back to where she’s sitting, but my
chest clenches when I see Koa standing behind the row of chairs watching me, eyes smoldering. The smile dies on my lips as my body flushes with heat. Oh, shit.
“Does this mean I have to bowl two more gutter balls?” Sally cries, and I can tell she’s getting a little tipsy.
Walking slowly toward her, my eyes never leave Koa’s. He’s angry, that much is clear, but he’s still interested. The lust in his eyes makes the blood simmer just beneath my skin. I want to forget everything I said to him this morning and run to where he’s standing, jump into his arms and devour that amazing mouth.
Head in the game, Mercy. I internally scold myself, breaking my eyes from his and focusing on my new friend.
“You know they have gutter guards. I’ll ask the guy to raise them for us.”
“Gutter guards?” Sally lifts her head like I’ve just told her the holy grail is hiding under the ball carousel.
“Hang on.” I skip around the row of chairs, focusing on the guy who gave me the silly shoes on my feet, not allowing my eyes to scan the area for Koa.
“Mercy! Dude!” Jim is at the counter when I arrive.
“Hey!” I say, feeling inordinately relieved to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, nothing. I was having dinner with Aunt Doris, and I noticed Koa was upstairs alone. He’s with me here. Did you see him?”
“Oh…” I struggle to find the right response.
“She did.” A deep male voice comes from behind me, and my eyes automatically slide closed.
His tone is tinged with irritation — of course it is! Still, I can’t make eye contact. I know if I do, he’ll see everything I’m feeling plain on my face. Instead I wave to the pimple-faced teen behind the counter.
“Hi, would you be able to raise the gutter guards for us?”
“Dude, you don’t need gutter guards,” Jim interrupts me. “I saw you. You’re like a scratch bowler.”
I’m not sure that’s a thing.
“It’s for Sally,” I do a little smile-frown, and Jim looks over to where my mousey friend is waiting.
“I can totally teach her to bowl, dude,” he says. “We can join forces.”
