They both knew this friendship was an exchange. Tit for tat. Innuendo only confused things and sex would make the threads of their relationship damn near impossible to unravel. “Well, you’re about to see less of me, because I’m going to get in my chair and set up for the next lift.”
“What’s next?” She stood, waiting for him to move without trying to push his wheelchair closer or offer to help.
He appreciated the lack of intrusion. When he had finally decided that he didn’t like lifting in his apartment and started looking for a gym, he’d worried that his entire workout would be spent fending off help from the well-meaning. He’d known that the catch would be getting on and off the narrow weight benches without kissing the floor. If he fell during the transition, he’d be slotted into a poor-crippled-guy hole. So he had a bench delivered to his apartment and spent six months getting on and off the damn thing until he could do it thirty times in a row without once landing ass-or face-first on the floor.
He had made it a whole three months without falling when lifting himself from the chair to the bench. The first and only time he’d overshot the bench and hit the floor on the other side in public, the entire weight room had gone silent for several seconds. Finally one of the guys on a similar schedule as Micah said, “Your form on that lift was shit, Blackwell,” with the same flat tone he used to correct the strutting teens who came in to lift for the first time. The noise in the gym had picked back up as the rest of the lifters decided Micah was just another dude who’d misjudged his lift but not actually done himself any harm. A victory he shouldn’t have had to earn, but a victory nonetheless.
Still, Micah waited until he’d swung himself back into his chair before answering Ruby’s question. “Preacher curls. And if you’re going to stand around, you might as well set the weight plates while I transition onto the seat.”
She shrugged and then fell into step beside him as he wheeled himself to the preacher bench. “I’d rather stand around and just watch you, but okay.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, and the heat in her face surprised him so much that he misjudged his transition and had to grab on to the bench before he landed on his ass. “Didn’t you come here to lift?” This conversation had to stay professional or they would both be in serious trouble.
Conflict of interest danced in her eyes and she looked both mischievous and inviting at the same time. Young, with more of the fight he remembered from prescandal Ruby and less of the fear. “Sure, but you were using the machine I wanted.” She tossed the hand towel he must have left on the other machine at him, smiling when he caught it.
There were many other ways to do chest flies, most of which didn’t require a machine, but she stood next to him with a challenge in her eyes. Daring him to argue with her and practically sending out an invitation for continued flirting. Well, if she wanted to slide herself onto a seat covered in his sweat, she was welcome to it. Micah shook his head before the words slide and sweat combined in his mind to reference anything other than the weights. He almost told her to knock it off, but her outrageous flirtation stroked his ego.
Something must have just happened that buoyed her spirits and put the conquering look on her face, because this was not the same Ruby who’d considered hiding in the car rather than coming through the gym doors.
And if she was going to make comments, he’d never been above showing off. The wheelchair pull-ups were pretty impressive.... No, he was being foolish. Best get back to her being in one area of the gym and him in another.
“Before you get too into your lifts, could you set the weight?” Even as he said the words, he knew they wouldn’t help get this conversation back where it needed to be.
“Bossy today, aren’t we?” she said with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m not complaining, but who added Red Bull to your cereal this morning?”
“Actually, I just helped a guy improve his running form.” She was crouched at his feet, spinning a weight plate on the preacher bar. Whether she intended it or not, the pose was incredibly erotic. “He doesn’t know it yet, but if he follows my suggestion, I’ve made his running better by, oh, twenty percent. I also beat the pants off him at a 5K. He was too easy of a target for it to feel so good, but it does and I’m going to let it.”
His mind had decided to take after his legs and was ignoring his directive. Focus! Weight lifting! Instead, he was admiring the way her moist lips didn’t fully close when she stopped talking. When she stood, she made a humming noise in the back of her throat. Closing his eyes helped some, but only some. “You helped some guy with his running form,” he repeated, straining to keep his attention on the weight he had to lift.
“Sorry. You’re lifting, and I need get on with mine. I’ll tell you about it when we’re done.” She patted him on the shoulder and he almost gave up on the day then and there.
He should be relieved that she had left him alone. But even after she stepped away from him to her own weight bench and set up for her own chest flies, he could feel her. The energy of her soft grunts rippled through his body. And after putting his senses on high alert, she didn’t even seem to remember he was in the same room.
Of course Ruby would tempt and pull back. As one of the world’s best middle-distance runners, Ruby had two deadly skills. Other runners had never been able to develop a trap that could hold her, and once in front, she liked to hang back enough so second place wasted energy trying to catch her before strengthening her kick and leaving the rest of the pack in the dust. A tease, even on the track.
When he finished his count, he released the bar, which banged against the metal stand. If he was going to think about Ruby, he might as well be looking at her, and being a leg man didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the way her shoulder and back muscles flexed as she pulled her elbow behind her.
“So that really is Ruby Heart,” said a voice from behind him. He turned to find the man Ruby had been talking to on the treadmill walking up on his right side.
“If she gave you running tips, take them.”
“She did. I did.” The man rubbed at the thick beard on his chin. “Do you think she would coach me through a marathon?”
“Best ask her.” Judging a man’s net worth by the clothes he wore to the gym was tricky business. Still, this man had on expensive running shoes and a full set of sweat-wicking running gear. Plus, expensive headphones. “Be prepared to pay a pretty penny, though. I mean, it is Ruby Heart.”
“Huh,” the man said, before walking toward Ruby.
Micah took a longer rest than he needed so he could watch their interaction. He eavesdropped a little on the man’s offer and Ruby’s response, but he concentrated on the joy in her face when the man named what he was willing to pay. And, like the fighter she was, she didn’t take his first offer, but asked for more. Micah didn’t think Ruby noticed the weight of anything she lifted for the rest of the time they were at the gym. Lifting to impress her would be a waste of time. Ruby was too far gone into her own world to notice the rest of the plebs down here on planet Earth. She couldn’t look more triumphant if she were standing on the top of Mount Everest with her hands over her head.
* * *
SHOWERED AND DRESSED, Ruby opened the car door and hopped in next to Micah. “I feel like I’ve got an Olympic gold medal hanging around my neck.”
“That good a workout, huh?”
“Okay, maybe not that good, but still pretty good. And this medal won’t be taken away. At least, I don’t think it will.” She rushed out the words before jinxing herself.
“You’re going to coach the guy?”
“Yeah. He’s run two marathons before, but he wants to better his time. By a lot. He seems pretty committed and he’s willing to pay me.” Back in the gym, lifting all those weights, the iron might as well have been bubbles. She was going to earn that money through her own hard work a
nd by using skills she’d been blessed with. “It feels so good, you know.”
“And this doesn’t violate the terms of your ban?”
For one glorious moment she’d forgotten about that damned ban. It was an albatross on her back. “I’ll have to check when I go home. It’s not as if this would be even close to professional. Eric wants to get under four hours.”
Suddenly Micah’s car was much too small for them both. She wanted to throw her arms up in the air and scream, or pound on the floor with her feet. Dance. Twirl. Laugh. “I feel like the old Ruby. Only not the old Ruby because the old Ruby would never have been in a public gym, and if she had been in a public gym she would have been annoyed and moved to another treadmill, not offered suggestions to a fellow runner. But that feeling of winning, God, that’s good.”
“You sure you’re going to be all right when I drop you off at home? Not going to float off into outer space, are you?”
“No.” She shook off his tease, and the wondrousness floating out of her soul remained. She owned this. She owned herself. And it felt great. “I’m going to take Dotty out for a slow, easy run and enjoy every minute of thinking about how to explain form, create a training schedule, develop a nutrition plan, the whole bit.”
“And then you’re going to come home and call me and we’re going to talk about filming your training?”
She sank a little closer to the earth. Micah was being nice to her, but their relationship wasn’t about friendship—nor was it going to be about anything more. She shouldn’t even be upset. She was the one who’d offered the exchange in the first place. Offered herself as a carrot, and now she was disappointed that he was following through.
“I guess.” She turned to look at him. “I mean, you’re keeping up your end of the bargain.”
“Oh, no.” He pulled his head back as if distancing himself from her words. “I will not be that person for you. I agreed to the bargain, but if you don’t feel good about the series, it will not help you. Your reserve will visible on camera. Hell, even if you’re doing this because you want to show your parents that they don’t control you, the negativity will come through on film.” She was about to interrupt him when he spoke again. “Do it because you believe you are a new person and you want the world to see it. Do it for you, not for anyone else.”
She snorted. Telling Eric her name at the gym had been hard enough. Even though she had known what she was getting herself into, letting a camera follow her around and having Micah ask her about the stupidest decision she had ever made in her life would be harder. Owning her exposure was not an idea she could fully get behind. “Hell, I’m lucky Eric didn’t spit on me when he decided to believe me. I’m doing this for lots of reasons, Micah, but because I deserve it isn’t empowering—it’s masochistic.”
Micah slowed the car to a stop at a light. The noise of the street poured into the silence in the car. The rev of a motorcycle engine. Some guy on the corner hawking the Word and a conspiracy theory mixed together. The ding of someone’s bicycle bell. Then Micah looked at her. “Has it really been that bad?”
The light turned and the car eased forward. “Recently? No. People forgot about me, and those who knew who I was and saw me on a regular basis got used to the crime I carried about me like a heavy chain. But in the beginning? That first year...yeah, it was that bad.”
“Someone spit on you?”
“He missed. I almost taunted him about his aim, but I didn’t want him to try again.” Leaving guilt behind was difficult when it regularly jumped up and curled its claws around her ankles, desperate to pull her back down in the mud as she kicked at its evil grin and pointy teeth. “Being spit at was bad enough. Being spit on sounds absolutely terrible.”
“It is,” Micah said.
“Yeah, when were you spit on?”
“Bad things happen at the bottom of a tackle that the ref can’t see. But most players realize that what comes around goes around.” Micah looked over at her, the smile on his face almost maniacal.
“Anyway, I’m glad the guy missed me. But the notes, letters and emails were the worst. When I was the golden girl, they offered sex. After the doping, they threatened sex. It took a long time for another woman to replace me in the Lilith category, and I feel very sorry for the one who eventually did.” She had also felt incredibly relieved—another stain on her soul.
“And you’re worried they’ll start again if you do the series?” To her surprise, Micah was turning onto her street. She’d been so wrapped up in the conversation that she hadn’t paid attention to where they were.
She snorted. “When is the last time you read comments on YouTube? Or trawled Reddit?”
“I try not to.”
“Yeah, well, they started as soon as the promo for the interview went up. And it will only get more vicious.”
He pulled into her driveway behind her car and stopped the engine. This time, when he looked at her, his eyes were kind and caring. “Are they threatening?”
Concern could be as much of a cage as shame. “Nothing serious.”
Yet.
He inspected her face, his eyes warm and soft and closing the distance she needed to keep between them. Believe, please believe. I don’t want to be trapped anymore. I don’t want to be scared anymore. “Did the house come with an alarm system?”
“Yes. And I set it.”
“And the dog?”
“Dotty is protective. And big, even if she’s not too smart. Besides,” Ruby said, her tone tinny instead of light, “someone trying to break into my house would give Dotty an activity, and she craves activity.”
“That doesn’t actually give me any confidence in your safety.”
“The worst that has happened is that King Ripley tracked me down. And Dotty growled like a champ, her hackles raised all along her spine. That’s it. Nothing else.” She didn’t want to hide anymore, didn’t want to give the world any reasons for her to hide.
She thought he was going to press her for more, but he only said, “Enjoy your run with Dotty. Text me and your cousin your route each time you go.”
“It’s fine...”
“For me. To make me feel better.” He put both his hands on the wheel, and when he looked at her, his expression, dark and unreadable, burned into her skin and she didn’t know if it was good or bad. “I don’t want to lose my story.”
“Okay.”
She had meant to get out of the car quickly, before “the story” could orchestrate any more of her life, but the heat in his eyes glued her to the seat. She couldn’t look away, and she didn’t move as he leaned over the console and pressed his lips to hers. Sweat and warmth and the smell of the gym’s soap filled her nose. Micah. Now she wouldn’t be able to take a shower at the gym without thinking of him.
His lips were firmer than she had imagined; his lower lip had always looked so full and soft and feminine. The skin covering her clavicle singed when he placed his hand on her shoulder, his grip demanding she give in. He pressed his fingers deeper, pulling her closer, and her desire gave in without checking in with her brain. The moan was hers. Her lips parted at his command when he ran his tongue along the crease. She opened herself to him, and he tasted like lemon-lime Gatorade. Even her toes got in on the action, bending and gripping in her shoes, propelling her forward. Toward him. Against him. Into him and his orbit.
That thought broke his hold on her. She yanked herself away, clocking her head against the passenger window. But the damage had been done. His eyes twinkled, and there was no hiding the heat that had risen through her body. She had flirted because he was safe. Because he’d hated her once and he might like her well enough for television, but surely not for more.
So what had that been?
“It’s not just the story, Ruby. I care about you, too.” The side of his mouth had kicked up like the cocky athle
te he was, irritating her further.
“Thanks. Coming in second to ratings is a real compliment.” Then, before he could say anything that might change her understanding of their bargain, she slipped out of the car, slammed the door and dashed off into her house.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BACK IN HIS OFFICE, Micah was failing at all the ways he tried to take his mind off kissing Ruby. Because it had been stupid. Career-suicide stupid.
But lifting weights had warmed her skin and brightened her eyes. The musky, sweaty smell of her had filled the car, buoyed by her determination to find herself again. Her nose, pert and upturned. Her hair hanging in front of her face, limp, as if it, too, had pushed itself to its limit at the bench press. And he’d thought about how he would feel if she disappeared out of his life. Kissing her had been so natural that he didn’t remember the thought of it crossing his mind before it happened.
It couldn’t happen again.
Micah set aside the questions he’d been working on for an upcoming interview and opened a web browser. This time, when he clicked on articles about Ruby, he skipped directly to the comments. Five years’ distance between the time stamp on those comments and now didn’t diminish their creepiness. The people—mostly men, if the references to dicks and sticking were to be believed—had obviously written their comments with hate pressing down on the keyboard. Hate for a woman they didn’t even know. Hate for a woman who had failed, sure, but the person she’d failed most was herself.
The second-place finisher, a woman from Romania, had been awarded the gold. The Romanian woman, who had the most reason to hate Ruby, had been gracious in her remarks and had gone on to win the gold at the following Olympics, so she’d even had her moment on the podium.
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