by A. S. Teague
I flinch as he delivers the low blow. I not only failed myself when I got suspended, but I failed her, too. Closing my eyes, I suck in a ragged breath as the jagged pill of rejection slides down my throat.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he mutters.
My eyes pop open. “What?”
“Go tell Reb to give you the employment forms to fill out. You got any shit to tie up before you start working?” he asks.
A grin breaks across my face as I shake my head. It hasn’t taken long to get settled in after moving, considering I barely have enough furniture to fill up the two-bedroom apartment I’ve been forced to lease in an unsavory part of town. The only redeeming thing about it is that it comes with a garage I can park my last thing of value in.
I spent the last eighteen months living off my savings. I lived comfortably while I was fighting, but Gram taught me to be smart with my money, so I put a good bit back. Once the sponsors dropped me and the checks stopped rolling in, I was forced to tap into it. Then the savings dried up and I was forced to sell my possessions off one at a time, until I had just about nothing of value left. Throughout all of this, I went to every reputable gym I knew of, looking for a job. They all turned me down, some a little more harshly than others. But, when I was forced to start using Gram’s retirement and social security checks to pay the bills, I knew I only had one option left.
“All right, then. Be here at six a.m. Monday morning,” he finishes before walking through the door.
Stunned at the turn of events, I stare at the empty doorway. After allowing myself a moment for it to sink in, I shake my head and then practically dance over to the reception desk.
Rebecca’s leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed and a mini bottle of something––holy shit, is that wine?––in her hand.
I rap my knuckles on the counter, and her lids fly open.
“Shit, you scared me!” she shouts while clutching her chest.
I can’t help following her hand, and my gaze is fixed on her round breasts heaving up and down when she clears her throat.
“Ahem, excuse me!” She snaps her fingers to catch my attention. “What do you want, Ryker?”
Unable to wipe the ridiculous grin from my face, I tell her, “Tripp said to get some new-hire paperwork from you.”
Her mouth falls open, and she blinks at me several times before composing herself. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbles to herself as she leans forward and opens a drawer.
The angle is just enough for me to catch a glimpse of cleavage under her bright-pink tank top, and I take a minute to admire her assets before she sits back up and shoves a jumbled mess of papers at me.
“Here ya go,” she says as she drops them on the counter, just out of reach of my outstretched hand.
I quickly flip through them but pause when a colorful flyer catches my eye. Pulling it out, I smirk. Then I hold it up to her. “Uh, is this a requirement of employment here?”
She snatches the Wine of the Month gift certificate out of my hands and exclaims, “That’s where that went!”
I nod at her once before turning to leave. “See ya Monday, Reb,” I tell her over my shoulder.
“Don’t call me that!” she screeches just as the door closes behind me.
Laughing, I jog to my car, too happy that I’m gainfully employed again to care that it’s probably going to be the worst job I’ve ever had.
It can’t be as bad as that week you spent lying on your back for a clinical trial.
After climbing into the Chevelle, I fire her up and peel out of the parking lot. Time to celebrate the tide having finally turned. In more ways than one.
Nestled under my down comforter, I open my eyes five minutes before my alarm goes off. I can’t remember the last time I actually slept until it sounded and was beginning to wonder why I wasted time even setting the damn thing anymore.
I roll over and check my phone, seeing a missed call from an unknown number. I’m listening to the voicemail when I feel the opposite side of the bed depress. Warm breath tickles my neck, and a wet tongue moves across my cheek.
Chuckling at the wrong number voicemail from some crazy lady named Juanita, I turn back over and sing, “Good morning, Prince.”
Another swipe of his tongue has me groaning.
“Gross!”
His butt wiggles.
I push his face away from mine before asking, “Do you need to go out?”
At the mention of the word out, he starts jumping up and down, landing a big paw right on my boob.
“Ow! Dammit, Prince. Every freaking time.” I shove up on an elbow and give his ears a good scratch before pushing him off me and sliding out of the bed. I slip my flip-flops onto my feet and grab a sweater off the back of a chair, making my way to the back door. Prince dances along behind me and bolts through the door as soon as I get it open, happy not to be leashed to go pee.
My agent booked two open houses and several showings over the weekend, so I’ve spent most of my time at Tripp’s house. He has yet to fence his yard in, so anytime we’ve gone out, I’ve had to put on Prince’s dreaded harness so he wouldn’t pull me off my feet.
I pumped Tripp for information on Ryker, but he stayed quiet until I finally gave up. I want to know why he is in Atlanta instead of Miami. Why he was looking for a job in our gym. And, most importantly, what the hell he said to convince Tripp to say yes. But, no matter what I threatened or how annoyingly I begged, he never spilled it.
I also need to know why I am attracted to him, but that is a question that Tripp doesn’t have an answer to. So I kept that one to myself.
An hour and a half later, I pull into the gym’s parking lot and see a candy-apple-red muscle car idling near the front door. After putting my BMW in park, I slowly get out of the car and come around to the passenger side to let Prince out. He immediately comes to my side, and together, we make our way to the front door. As I put the key in the lock to open the front door, I hear the other car’s engine cut off and the door slam.
Holding my breath, I turn and see Ryker walking over to me. My relief that it’s not an axe murderer come to kill me is quickly squashed when I notice the scowl he’s sporting.
“Are you the first one here?” he barks.
His face is harsh, but it’s still just as handsome as it was last week. Looks like the weekend I spent telling myself that I’d built him up in my head was wasted.
At his tone, I quirk an eyebrow and Prince lets out a low growl.
Ryker stops in his tracks and lowers his gaze. Slowly putting his hands up, he asks, “Your dog’s not gonna eat me, is he?”
Fighting to suppress my amusement, I say, “Talk to me like that again and you’ll find out.” I shove the door open, and the Godforsaken bell chimes. When I flip the lights on, the gym is bathed in unnatural light that forces me to squint.
“Come on, buddy,” I call softly to my dog.
He obediently follows me in. I don’t bother holding the door for Ryker, and it slams in his face.
Oops.
Chuckling, I settle in behind my desk while Prince lies underneath on my feet. “So, did you bring your paperwork back?” I ask once he’s made his way inside.
“Yeah. It’s right here.” He places the stack in my outstretched hand. His fingers graze mine.
I jerk my hand from his, causing several of the papers to fall. He reaches down to help gather them, but I wave him off, embarrassed at my reaction.
Get a grip, Reb!
“So, what time does the gym actually open?” he asks as I’ve stacked the papers up.
In an attempt to keep from staring at him, I focus my attention on starting my computer up and make a show of organizing the forms in a corner.
Once I’m sure the blush has faded from my cheeks, I look back up. “Not until seven.”
“Mother fu––” He stops. “Tripp told me to be here at six this morning.”
Laughter erupts from my throat before I can stop it. It�
�s just like my brother to tell Ryker to show up an hour early.
“So, you’ve been sitting in your car for the last half hour, huh?” I ask through my giggles.
He doesn’t say anything, just nods once. He’s studying my face, and I find myself wondering what he’s thinking.
Does he like what he sees?
And why do I care?
His hair is still too long, and it hangs over one of his bright-green eyes. My fingers itch to brush it from his forehead. His face is freshly shaven, and I admire the sharp angle of his jaw. I follow the curve of his chin to his lips and notice that his bottom lip is a little fuller than his top.
I’m still staring, trying to convince myself that I’m not attracted to him, when Breccan and Tripp come through the front door. At the sound of their voices, I snap out of it and sit up straight.
“You made it I see,” Tripp says to Ryker’s back.
Peering around him, I see a smirk on his face, and I narrow my eyes at him.
He ignores me and asks, “Were ya here long?”
Ryker doesn’t bother turning and says, “Nah, not too long. Just chatting with Reb.” He winks at me, causing my stomach to flip.
“Hawke?” Breccan growls.
Ryker finally turns away from me, and my shoulders sag in relief.
What is it about him?
Breccan cocks his head to the side. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again after I left Friday.”
“That makes two of us, I guess. Tripp here was kind enough to speak with me though.” Ryker points a thumb at my brother. “Gave me a job. So here I am.” He sticks his hand out to Breccan in an attempt to shake it.
I take a deep breath in and hold it, waiting for Breccan to move.
Tripp’s always been slow to anger and quick to forgive, so it’s no surprise that he’d agree to give Ryker a job. But Breccan is the opposite of Tripp, and forgiveness is not his most redeeming quality.
The air stills and grows thick with tension as Ryker’s hand sways, waiting for Breccan to accept it. Finally, he concedes and quickly clasps Ryker’s hand.
“You come ready to work today?” Breccan asks gruffly.
Ryker nods and assures him, “Whatever you need me to do, man, just tell me.”
The guys chat for a few minutes about the usual training schedule while I pull up the day’s list of appointments for them. Breccan’s reading the list aloud when he suddenly stops mid-sentence and turns toward me. I was intently watching the exchange, but when the conversation stopped, I scrambled to look like I was busy.
“Reb?” Breccan calls. “There something you need to tell me?”
Racking my brain, I have no idea what he could be referring to. “Uhhhhh…” I drawl. “No?”
“What’s that noise?” he questions.
I concentrate but don’t hear anything other than the ticking of the wall clock. “I don’t hear anything,” I reply, glancing over to Tripp and Ryker.
They’re both fighting smiles.
“What is it, you two? Do I have something on my face?” Panicked that I have spinach in my teeth or a booger in my nose, I quickly scrub my hands over my face.
“Are you panting?” Tripp asks.
Shit. “Uhm, yes. Yes, I am,” I say quickly. “Brec, did you know that today’s a holiday?”
Shaking his head, he glowers at me. “What holiday would that be?”
“It’s national ‘take your dog to work’ day.” I smile at him.
It isn’t the first time I’ve brought Prince with me to work, but after the last time he was here, Breccan demanded that I leave him home. But it wasn’t Prince’s fault that some dumbass had tried to come on to me. He was just being a good boy and protecting his mama. And the kid only needed a few stitches anyway.
“Rebecca. It’s not ‘bring your dog to work’ day. And, even if it is, I told you last time that you couldn’t bring him back.”
“He was protecting me!” I shout, waving my arms in the air. “You should be thanking him! You don’t want that guy in here!”
“You’re right. He was protecting you. And doing a damn good job. But what about the time before that when he ate one of the mats? Or the time before that when he started humping Jones while he was training?”
“Prince is a good boy!” I state, offended that Breccan would think otherwise.
At the sound of his name, his head pops up and he starts wagging his tail.
“Ryker, you met Prince yet?” Tripp asks.
“Prince, huh? As in the artist formerly known as?” Ryker asks me.
“Uhm, yes––”
“Ha! No. Most definitely not,” Tripp interrupts, laughing. “Prince. As in short for Princess Picklebottom, Duchess of Brineyville.”
“I told you not to tell people that,” I hiss at him. Turning my attention back to where he’s lying on the floor, I cover Prince’s ears with my hands. “Don’t listen to him. He’s such a prick.”
Laughter erupts from Ryker, and he sputters, “Excuse me? You mean to tell me that you named a hundred-pound male pit bull Princess Picklebottom?”
I squint at him and shrug. “I may have already had some wine when I went to pick him out.”
“She’d had a lot of wine when she called me and begged me to take her to get him after seeing him online,” Tripp interjects.
Correcting him, I snap, “It wasn’t a lot. It was just one bottle.”
Tripp laughed. “One big bottle.”
“Whatever. God, you’ve always got to be right.” I stick my tongue out at him and then turn my attention back to Ryker. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. I’d had a little to drink, saw his little baby face online, and fell in love. I talked Tripp into taking me. Which was a mistake, I know now. I should have called Brec.” I pause and roll my eyes. “I get there and they won’t let me take him without filling out all these adoption papers first. I thought he was a girl. And I was on a pickle kick at the time.” I lift a shoulder. “Anyway, by the time I got him home and realized he was a boy, it was too late. He was already officially named and registered with the AKC. Soooooo…now, he’s just Prince.”
Ryker roars with laughter, and even though I’m irritated that he’s laughing at me, the sound is…nice. Something I want to hear more of, although I’d prefer it if he were laughing with me instead of at me.
His laughter is subsiding when the door swings open and a group from the elementary school comes in. Every other week during the summer, we have a day when the local schools bring in kids to watch demonstrations before school. We usually have a few kids sign up at the end of the summer, so it’s profitable as well as charitable.
I recognize the teacher with the group of boys, so I excuse myself from the men and hurry over to greet them.
“Hey, guys! I’m so excited y’all are here today. Who’s ready to learn a few moves?” I ask the excited group of third-graders.
They all start jumping up and down and shouting at once, and I laugh at their enthusiasm.
“Rebecca, so good to see you,” Mrs. Williams says, wrapping me in a warm hug. She leans back, still holding my arms and drops her voice, “I heard what you did for Max. You have no idea what that meant to him and his father.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.
Uncomfortable, I shake my head at her. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
She swipes a hand under her eyes and smiles. “If you say so.”
“I say so,” I tell her quietly. Turning back to the boys, I squat down to get on their level, a feat considering I’m wearing three-inch heels. “Okay, guys. We’ve got a new trainer and he can’t wait for you to practice your submissions on him.” Looking back over my shoulder, I smile. “Isn’t that right, Ryker?”
Ryker’s staring at me with soft eyes, and I wrinkle my eyebrows at him. His lips tip up in a gentle smile, and his gaze never leaves mine as he answers.
“That’s right, Reb. I can’t wait.”
Standing, I clap my h
ands together and shout, “All right, boys! Head over to the locker room and get changed!”
They scamper off toward the locker room.
I walk over to Ryker and catch him by the arm. “Be nice to my boys. And don’t forget you told Brec you’d do anything. That includes letting a group of eight-year-olds kick your ass.” I gesture between us with my fingers. “I’ve got my eye on you,” I tell him seriously.
“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes me before turning on his heel and following the sound of the rambunctious boys.
So what? I might have watched his ass as he walked away.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Definitely.
I had no idea what to expect when I showed up for work today, pissed as shit when I pulled up and saw that the gym was just as dark inside as it was outside. Knowing immediately that Tripp had pulled a fast one on me, I decided to let it slide. I knew that it probably hadn’t been any easier for him to hire me than it had been for me to walk in and beg for a job.
Telling Gram that I was gainfully employed again felt good. I wasn’t going to be moving us into a mansion any time soon, maybe never, but she acted like I’d just hit the lottery. And that felt even better.
Grateful that I am not going to be cleaning mats for twelve hours, I throw myself into working with the kids. I’ve never really been around kids before, being an only child with no cousins or friends growing up, so I have my reservations. But, once I get down on the floor with them and see how serious they are taking the training, I can’t help but get caught up in it myself. That is until one of the boys catches me in a respectable arm bar and I am forced to tap…to an eight-year-old.
After three hours of being pummeled by a group of surprisingly strong third-graders, I am relieved when Rebecca announces that it is time for lunch. I tried to keep my mind, and my eyes, off her, but it was exceedingly difficult when she made it a point to “check on the boys” every fifteen minutes. I’m not sure if she thought I was going to hurt the kids or if she just genuinely didn’t trust me with them, but I couldn’t find it in myself to complain about it when it meant that I got a good look at her ass each time she sauntered away in her stilettos.
