Her warm, soft mouth unhinges but she doesn’t say anything.
I go on, “You can bet your magic hands I’ve thought about it, about you, especially when those magic hands are squeezing my ass like you might never let go. Trust me, that was almost as good as amazing sex, and I’d be a damn liar if I said I didn’t want to take it the rest of the way and finish that scorching foreplay.”
Her mouth drops further with my words before she realizes it and snaps it closed.
“But I swear to you, on my honor and my name, that I will not make a move if you don’t want me to. Now if you make a move on me because you can’t take the crackling, electric tension that’s obviously between us—well, that won’t be my responsibility.”
She smiles and her eyes glow. “You don’t think I could resist you?”
“I think it’ll be pretty damn hard.”
She laughs. I hadn’t meant the pun, but it fit.
“You may have met your match, Mr. Jackhammer.” She folds her arms across her chest. I wonder if she realizes how it just pushed up her round, swollen breasts.
“Oh yeah, scrapper? Do you want to put a price on that statement?” I love the game she’s playing.
“What do you suggest?” She tilts her head.
“How much did Silva offer you?”
“Thirty-five thousand dollars,” she says. “And you just doubled that salary for three months work.”
I crook my finger, beckoning her to come closer. She takes a few steps. I shake my head. “Closer.”
She sighs with a resolved smile, but gets closer.
“Just a little more.” I lead her until we’re breathing the same oxygen. One slip and I could be kissing her. “If I make the first move, I’ll make it an even one hundred thousand.”
“Are you serious?” she whispers almost against my lips.
“Completely.” I let the idea of one hundred thousand dollars sink in before I add, “However, if you make the first move, you’ll owe me one night of unbridled passion.”
Chapter Four
Sophie
“One hundred thousand?!” Ayana doesn’t believe me. “I mean, I know you’re a good massage therapist and all but … one hundred thousand dollars? Really??”
“That’s what he said. I even signed the three month contract.”
I take the Stouffer’s lasagna out of the oven and carry it to the table. It’s not homemade, but it smells pretty good. Ayana sets a green salad next to it.
“Charlie, please put plates and forks on the table.”
“How many plates?” Charlie asks as she climbs the “Mommy’s little helper” step stool.
“Count,” I remind her.
“I mean, I guess when you’re a North and you have that kind of money, you can afford to do anything on a whim,” Ay deduces while she takes two wine glasses and a plastic Cinderella cup from the cabinet.
“How could I say no?” I lower my voice to talk to Ay. “That amount of money would be a huge safety net for me and Charlie.”
“Are you eating, Ay?” Charlie interrupts.
“Yes, silly goose!” Ay says.
I swipe Charlie off the stool and tickle her as I set her down. “How about I do your chore tonight and you can go back to playing dollies?”
“Really?” Charlie squeals with rebellious delight. I nod and Charlie races out of the kitchen.
I continue, “This is a real opportunity for Charlie and me. With a solid sports reference, I could go on to work with other pro athletes or get a position at my choice of hospitals. I’m tired, Ayana. I’m tired of scraping by, making just a little too much for food stamps and way too little for the things we really need—like a dependable car, the clothes I’d really love to see Charlie wear or a new toy she asks for,” I muse. “I could afford a better daycare. And, most importantly, when it’s time to move on again, I’ll have money in the bank instead of being penniless and at the mercy of others or just barely surviving hand-to-mouth.” I look at Charlie in the living room, dressing her Goodwill dolls. “She deserves better.”
“You deserve better.” Ayana pours sweet, red wine into my glass. “And who knows, I mean really, this is fucking nowhereland North Dakota. You’re a well-hidden needle in a big ass haystack.”
Is she right? Am I really so well-hidden? And if I am, why is it that I still don’t feel safe? Will I ever feel safe? Will Charlie and I ever be safe?
Charlie is my life. I’d do or give her anything, and the most important thing she needs is a safe life, a safe mom, a safe place to live and play, but I can’t give her any of those things. I still live my life plagued by fear.
Any moment he could find us.
*****
The Belt is Williston’s premiere MMA gym. Sparring bags, floor and wall mats, a center ring, jumbo bulldozer tires, weights and weight machines, padding … it’s one hell of a place for training. A mural showing a side-view of Josh jabbing a right hook is painted on the wall, larger than life. Famous quotes about fear, courage, strength and giving your all are also painted on every wall in black tattoo-like graffiti script.
“Do you own it?” I ask Josh as he, Silva, Caruso and McGee lead me through the place.
“Part. The four of us are joint owners,” Josh explains. I co-own each of my training facilities.
The place is buzzing with activity. Everyone stops what they’re doing to greet Josh and congratulate him on a speedy recovery. They shake his hand, give him the masculine nod, or do the one armed man hug thing. Everyone is talking to everyone at once, and the place seems like it’s turned into a party zone.
The crowd comes between me and the team, and I find myself moving toward the outer circle, which is okay by me—I don’t need to be a testosterone sandwich.
“You don’t look like no fighter,” I hear a deep voice say behind me. “Sweet thing.”
“Well, you know what they say, looks can be deceiving,” I retort as I turn.
He nods. He’s huge, and he exudes an air of arrogance that I’d much rather avoid.
“So, which one of these chumps is your boyfriend?” He leans into my personal space.
Oh God! Why is it that some men can be so full of themselves that they think this kind of violation is okay?
When I ignore him and turn away, he sets a demanding hand on my shoulder.
Fuck. “Don’t touch me,” I hear my own voice say. It’s small and shaky. I remember how physically vulnerable to this monstrosity of a fighter I am. I straighten my back, pull my shoulder from his grasp, take a strong stance and meet his eyes. “I said, don’t touch me.”
“When most girls say, ‘Don’t touch me,’ they usually don’t mean it.”
I have mace in my hip bag and I think to myself, What an amazing first day at work! In the first five minutes I pepper sprayed some douchebag in the face! And how was your day?
“How’d you fit all them curves up in that shirt?” he says, leering down at my breasts.
That’s it! “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you a Neanderthal? Did you just come lumbering out from a cave? Who the hell talks like that? Don’t speak to me again.”
I take a long step away from him and feel his fingers clasp around my arm.
“Sexy bitch, you must have a stick up your pretty ass—let me help you get it out.”
A fraction of a second later, an expression of severe pain rips over his face as he drops to one knee. Josh is holding his other hand—no, just his thumb—pulling it backward into a position that makes it look like Josh could detach it clean away from his hand.
“The nice lady asked you politely not to touch her, so what the fuck is your hand doing on her arm?” Josh’s voice is low and threatening.
“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know she was with you,” Neanderthal responds in obvious agony.
“She is,” Josh growls before getting his face in the other guy’s face. “But even if she wasn’t, that’s no way to speak to a woman. Didn’t your mama teach you any better?” At that, Josh straightens
his posture a bit and looks completely natural as he faces the enormous gathering now around us.
Everyone—a good fifty bodies strong—is staring at the three of us.
“This seems as good a time as any for introductions,” Josh waxes, friendly and upbeat, but still holding on to the guy’s thumb. “This is Sophie Garner. She’s the newest member of my fight team.”
I hear Neanderthal groan.
Most everyone in arm’s reach of me begins shaking my hand and welcoming me to the club. Almost the entire group is men, save two women who step forward to shake my hand.
After a moment, Josh continues, “Now that Sheen here has had the chance to see how people with manners meet new people, I’m sure he’ll have learned the correct way to greet strangers.” He looks back down at “Sheen,” whose face is blotched red and white. “I’m going to let you go. When I do, get your ass back to the lockers, get your shit and don’t let me see your fucking face here for the next two weeks. Understood?”
Sheen nods and Josh lets him go. Sheen cradles his hand and quickly makes his way to the back of the gym.
“Are you alright?” Josh searches my eyes.
No. I’m shaking like a freaking leaf in a hurricane. No I am NOT okay! I’m tired of MEN!
I find my voice. “I’ll be fine.”
You know, it’s not even the asshole Neanderthal that makes me so furious. It’s that men can somehow not care, or think that these actions don’t have a consequence, and that’s frightening. What’s he going to do to the next girl he finds attractive?
And why am I an asshole magnet?
I want to say thank you but I can’t because it gets caught in my throat. I realize the adrenaline that surged through me is now making me shake visibly, and I have to get out of here. At least away from all of these people.
“Do you have an office?” I ask under my breath.
“Of course.” Josh leads me to a door on the side wall. It’s painted deep red. He unlocks it and ushers me inside. After Josh turns on the light, he flips a Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the door, then shuts it. “I’m sorry that was your first experience here.”
“I hate men who are strong and use it to hurt others.” I’m pacing, trying to expend this adrenaline.
Josh moves to his water cooler and, a second later, puts a cold paper cup of water in my hand. “Drink it.”
I do. The action forces me to take a deep breath and then center myself again.
“Sheen’s an asshole, always has been.” Josh strides behind his desk.
As I calm down I notice that this is not the stereotypical, rough gym office. Instead it’s refined. A large, polished, rectangular mahogany desk with a black fitness ball as the “chair” is neat and orderly. An overhead track of lights makes the room bright and shines over the dark stained hardwood flooring. A laptop and a laser printer sit on the desk. A black leather sofa sits against one wall, facing the other, which holds a nearly cinema-sized flat screen.
“He’s fortunate I didn’t pound him into a near-death experience,” Josh states before handing me a set of keys. “If anyone, I mean anyone, acts in any way toward you that isn’t more than honorable, you tell me immediately. I won’t have that going on in my gym.” He lowers his voice a little when he adds, “Especially with you.”
Josh immediately begins showing me what each key is for—the gym, his office, and my own company car. “It’s the Volvo S60 parked in the back. I even had them install a big-kid, high-back booster seat for Charlie.”
I am stunned.
“I don’t know what you drive now, but the Volvo is one of the safest structurally, and don’t worry about using it full-time. It’s yours while you have the job—with fuel costs covered.
“Josh, I don’t think—” I begin.
“Yeah, you do, Sophie. You think too much,” he says seriously, like he can somehow read my thoughts. “It’s your job to keep my body limber and unstressed.” I now notice his hand is underneath mine, as if he has to hold it up to keep the keys steady. Is he doing it on purpose? “It’s my job to make you the happiest employee there is.” He squeezes my hand, then lets go. “Now for my favorite part.” He smiles, and for a moment he looks like a happy kid on a holiday, not like the rough fighter who usually looks like he’s going to rip someone’s head off.
He beckons me to follow him down the hallway and stops at a yellow painted door. “This is your office.”
Josh opens the door. “You can decorate it however it suits you.”
Looking around I quickly take in that despite the bold, bright colors in the gym, the walls here are subdued, in a nice, creamy coffee color. The walls are bare. There is a massage table and massage chair, my own dark, polished desk, a comfortable looking, brown eggshell colored sofa and, to my utter shock and surprise, a corner of the office is dedicated to Charlie. A beautiful tea set is set up on a child-sized table for easy play, and there’s a play kitchen with all the accessories, a pink, fuzzy, overstuffed chair, shelves stocked with children’s books, puzzles and games, and a hammock filled with stuffed animals and baby dolls.
I’m about to have an unwanted moment. I feel tears well up in my eyes. I try to push them back down, but they’re rebellious and slide down my cheeks anyway. I attempt to turn away, but I’m not fast enough.
“What’s wrong?” Josh is quickly concerned by my reaction. “If you don’t want them here, I’ll get rid of them. I just figured some days you might want to bring Charlie with you.”
No one has ever bought anything for Charlie besides me. Even Jim never gave her anything after she was born—not a toy, not a blanket, not diapers, nothing.
“It’s perfect,” I work to reassure him. “Just an unexpected, but beautiful surprise. She’ll love them.”
He looks like he’s judging my expression, like he isn’t sure what to think. I don’t blame him, and I quickly wipe the stray tears and straighten my back. I have a feeling he wants to pry, but he doesn’t. Instead he changes the subject.
“We’ll have a lot of work, but you’ll also have a lot of downtime. You won’t want to bring her every day, but once you get the groove of the schedule, you’ll find a rhythm. And don’t worry about anything—don’t stress if you’re going to be running a little late, or if she’s sick and you need a day off—just let me know.”
As he speaks, I realize just how amazing this job could be. I’m completely elated, but another part of me works to keep my feet planted firmly on earth. Our business partnership could easily spiral into a sexual relationship. Josh is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. His hands are rough, manly and so sexy. His muscles ripple underneath his shirt, making me thankful to the highest heavens that my job is literally to touch them every day. However along with that “legal” touching comes a price—I want to lick them; I fantasize about running the tip of my tongue through the ridges of his abs and tracing the lines down to his …
His voice snaps me back. “Silva has his own office at the end of the hall, and McGee and Caruso share an office across from it.”
Thank you for the wake-up call. Josh is my boss. And there is no way I can jeopardize that. And even though I’ve only been with one other guy since Charlie was born and am in some serious need of servicing …
I. Must. Play. This. Smart.
Chapter Five
Josh
Infatuation … according to Webster’s it means, “an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone or something.”
Infatuation? I watch Sophie as she opens the staff fridge to get her lunch. I don’t need to be in here, but I knew she’d be taking her break now, so I’m fumbling with the coffeemaker.
Sophie looks up from her sandwich. “Do you need some assistance?” She has an expression that reads, since when do you make coffee?
Since she came to work here and I seem to feel the need to make time to see her, to figure her out … to be close to her.
Oh fuck, what’s the definition of stalker?
>
“Got it covered, but thanks.”
I can tell she doesn’t believe me, but she gives me my way just the same.
She comes in here at the same times every day—always right before or right after everyone else. Sophie seems to like being alone.
She opens a personal sized bag of baked chips, then checks her watch. She throws a chip in her mouth, picks up her cell from the table and makes a call.
This girl is so beautiful! She must have all kinds of guys falling all over themselves to impress her.
When she starts talking, she looks … I’m not sure, maybe concerned?
Shit! Now I have to hear what she’s saying and figure out who the hell is getting her attention.
Is there a definition for infatuated stalker? If there is, I’m sure it’s not good. And yet, here I go, pretending I’m interested in what’s in the vending machines directly behind her.
“Charlie, do you have your wristband on?” Sophie asks then listens. “Very good. What’s the rule? That’s right—never, ever take it off.”
Must be a nice wristband. I smooth out a dollar bill and run it through the slot.
“Remember, when you go to the play place with Britt you stay close to her, do you understand me? If anyone tries to talk to you, you scream and run to Britt.”
Very protective—she’s such a mom. I’ll admit, I’m happy she’s talking to Charlie and not some guy I’d want to destroy.
“I miss you too. When I get home we can play Ants in the Pants! I love you too. See you when I’m all done with work,” Sophie finishes.
I retrieve a blueberry yogurt from the machine and decide to take a chance. “I’m an adult and my mom still worries,” I say.
“Yeah, I think that’s one of the two all-consuming motherly emotions—love and worry—I feel them both all the time,” she explains.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, indicating the empty chair at her table.
“Of course.”
I sit and then shake my yogurt up as I consider her. She catches me watching. Her brow pinches and she’s so adorable.
Dare Page 4
