Get Wilde (A Checkmate Inc. Novel Book 3)

by Shelly Alexander

  I spend the morning finding reasons to stroll through her space. Not hard since I do own the damn place. The gym is cleared out because of the broken showers, and most of my regulars are temporarily displaced to another one of my locations. Besides the plumbing crew that is working on the showers, the Weekend Warrior teams are pretty much the only people here, and that’s because I can’t very well tear down the makeshift obstacle course and move it to another location. Even if I could, none of my other locations have enough room.

  Red is doing great. Really great. Except that every time I walk through their training area, Mack is all up in her personal body space. Undressing her with his eyes again. And I’m getting more and more pissed as the morning wears on.

  It’s getting unusually hot in the gym, so I leave my team at the obstacle course, check on the construction work going on in the showers, and head to the weight room en route to the thermostat. Never mind that I take the long way. As in I walk right past it, intending to detour through the weight room and double back.

  When I walk into the main part of the gym, Red is stacking weights onto a power sled. “Okay,” she says to one of her team members—a tall girl named Liza who works as a stunt double on movie sets whenever a motion picture company is filming in New York City. “I’m going to sit on top of the weights, and I want you to push me across the gym.”

  “Will do,” Liza nods, shaking out her legs. Her hands are on her hips, and she’s breathing heavy from the workout Red is putting them through.

  “Whooooa,” says Mack before Red can climb on top of the weighted power sled. He molds his hand to the small of her back in an intimate gesture. “Just add more weights instead of sitting on top. You might get hurt.”

  Without thinking, I take a step in their direction, but I stop when Red straightens, and says, “Liza, can you give us a minute?”

  “Sure.” Liza crosses the room to speak to another team member.

  Red’s back is to me, so I detour to the shelves where a stack of fresh towels need straightening. Okay, the fucking towels are perfectly arranged already, but I can’t walk away when this Mack dude is obviously bothering Red.

  “Mack, I’m sure you’re trying to help.” Red’s tone is flat, and I know she’s trying really hard to be polite. “But I’m the coach.”

  I glance over my shoulder, and Red is leveling a knowing stare at Mack. Her subtle warning has obviously gone over his head, because he stares back at her blankly.

  She pulls in a breath, and I can almost hear the eye roll in it.

  I can’t help it. My lips twitch, and I keep my head down, refolding already perfectly folded towels.

  “Don’t contradict my instructions when I’m working with the team,” she says. “It undermines my leadership.”

  Mack sputters.

  “And don’t put your hands on me like it’s a common, familiar thing to do. I don’t feel comfortable with it, and it’s not a good example to set for the rest of the team.”

  He sputters again.

  I bite my tongue to hold back a belly laugh. Way to put him in his place, Red. She’s one badass yoga instructor.

  I plan to stick around for a few minutes and make sure Mack minds his manners, but then my sister finds me.

  “Hey, lunkhead.” Grace’s face is covered in a fine sheen of perspiration. “The air conditioner is broken. I called a repairman, but unless it’s a fairly simple problem, I doubt they’ll have it working today.”

  Shit. I scrub a hand over the stubble I’ve let grow since Red told me how much she likes it against her thighs. “No wonder it’s so hot in here.” No working showers is bad enough. No air conditioning seals our fate, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

  I glance in Red’s direction. Mack has migrated to the opposite side of the room after her rebuff and is giving her the evil eye.

  She waves Liza over and climbs on top of the power cart. “Okay, let’s go!” She says it like any of the toughest coaches I’ve ever seen.

  Liza positions herself behind the cart, draws in a deep breath, and puts her full strength into it. The cart slides across the gym as a grunting Liza gives it everything she’s got.

  The rest of the team gathers along the path of the cart, clapping and cheering Liza on.

  And that’s how a good coach does it. They don’t just issue commands. They motivate and inspire their team to push themselves farther, harder, faster than ever before. There are those who can learn that skill.

  And then there are people like Red who are obviously born with it. They’re natural born leaders.

  When Liza reaches the far end of the gym, Red hops off and glances in my direction.

  I wave her over.

  She leaves Liza with another teammate, and they start setting up to do the same drill.

  Red trots toward Grace and me.

  I can’t help but let my eyes drink in Red. The lime green and black spandex tights and sleeveless workout shirt she’s wearing are sexier than any lingerie I’ve ever seen. I love her body. Want to feel it slide over me…under me…around me again. One night wasn’t enough. I just need to convince her of the same thing.

  “What’s up?” she asks, glancing from me to Grace.

  “Air conditioning is out,” I croak, trying to focus on the problem instead of on Red’s slender hips and toned legs. “So unless you and I can blow hard enough to cool the gym, we need to figure out a plan B.”

  I don’t realize how provocative my smartass joke is until Red turns a shade of scarlet that befits her name.

  “I’m out.” Grace turns on a heel, obviously picking up the sexual vibe between Red and me. “Let me know what you decide.”

  When we’re alone, I can’t help but say, “What do you think, Red? Care to blow?” I keep my voice low so no one else can hear. I shouldn’t tease her, but I really, really want to hear the answer.

  Her eyes flit away, and she pulls a plump lip between her teeth. “If you must know, I would like to blow you very much.”

  I forget my fucking name.

  She shrugs. “But we have work to do, and what I said earlier still stands.” She looks up into my eyes, and my chest tightens. It’s like she can see into my soul. “I’m not ready.”

  I lean in, looking around to make sure no one is paying us any attention. Mack seems to be the only one conspicuously glancing in our direction.

  “What I said earlier still stands, too, Red. I am ready.”

  “Ready for what, Ethan?” Her look is challenging.

  “For…for more…” I’m not sure how to finish. More nights? More sex? I just don’t fucking know how to define what I want. I just know I want her.

  “That’s my point,” she says. “If you were really ready, you would’ve been able to finish that sentence. Until you can, I’m not ready for more heartache. We’ll have to stay friends…or co-competitors, or whatever you want to call it, but nothing more.”

  And, well…that totally blows.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I suggest we move to another one of my gyms for weight training,” I say to Red. I may not have an immediate answer when it comes to defining my relationship with her, but at least I can find a solution for my gym’s broken air conditioner so our teams won’t suffer. “The other locations are much smaller, but they’ll do. Maybe the air will be fixed by tomorrow.”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it.” I wait for her answer.

  She toes the ground with a running shoe that’s patterned in gray camo and trimmed in neon pink. “Ethan, you’ve invested a lot of time into me as a coach, brought me up to speed in a fraction of the time it should’ve taken. Can I give you a piece of advice this time?”

  “Sure.”

  “This is fantastic.” Her gaze sweeps around the gym. “Really, you’ve built an incredible business by offering your clients state-of-the-art equipment and amenities.” She points to the stack of meticulously arranged towels. �
�Obviously, part of your brand is to make working out more enjoyable for your members. But them.” She points to her team who are scattered throughout the weight room. “They’re not your clients. They don’t need to be pampered. They need a gritty, hard workout.”

  I see where this is going, but even as it registers, I can’t help but lift an eyebrow and give her a cocky half smile. “I like gritty and hard.”

  She doesn’t seem as amused by my innuendo as I am. “I’m serious. For God’s sake, do you have anything other than sex on your brain?”

  “Not when I’m around you.” It’s true. Guys have sex on the brain most of the time, but when I’m around Red, I can think of nothing else.

  “Well, try really hard to focus on our goal, okay?” Her annoyance is rising, and I hear it loud and clear.

  Still can’t help myself.

  “Oh, I’m very focused on my goal, Red.” My gaze drops to her mouth. “I want another night with you to see if I can change your mind about me.”

  She growls and clutches both sides of her head with her hands in frustration. “Do you want my help or not? No worries if you don’t, but I’m taking my team somewhere else for obstacle training.”

  I chuckle. “Of course, I want your help, but there isn’t exactly an obstacle course on every street corner in New York City.”

  She gives me a sly smile. “Actually, there is. Do you trust me?”

  “I do trust you. Where are we going?”

  “To the park on Eighty-Fifth Street.”

  My head angles, and my brow wrinkles.

  “They’ve got great playground equipment.” She pushes gently at my shoulder. “It’s where all gymnasts get their start. We’re about four years old when our parents realize we scale the monkey bars like pros, then they run us down to the nearest gymnastics teacher and sign us up.” She laughs and backs away. “So come on, Wilde. Let me show you my way of training. It’s a little different than yours.”

  Obviously.

  I’m completely on board with it, but I’m not sure her team will be receptive to her unorthodox training methods. At least not until she proves herself to them. She’s the coach of her team, though, and can make her own decisions. If I go along, it might pacify any doubt her team members have.

  “Lead the way,” I say.

  The smile she flashes me is so dazzling it takes my breath away.

  Forty-five minutes later we’re at the park. It’s a beautiful spring afternoon. The sun is high and bright in the blue sky with a few feathery clouds dotting the sky.

  We dump our gym bags, backpacks, and water bottles on a bench. Red shuffles through her bag and gets out some chalk to coat her hands. Both teams gather around the sprawling playground equipment. I swear, a lot has changed since I was a kid. Kids these days have it made. This setup looks more like Disneyland than New York City.

  Some of the team members look expectant, some look skeptical, some look curious, but they’re all waiting for Red to show us how it’s done. Gotta be honest, I’m more than a little curious myself.

  “This isn’t just playground equipment,” Red says to everyone as she positions herself at one end of the structure. “It’s an obstacle course. It’s just not on steroids like the one you’ll be using during the competition.”

  Chuckles ripple through the crowd.

  Except for Mack. He folds his arms and scowls at her joke.

  Apparently, he takes steroids seriously. And probably in regular doses.

  Red rubs her chalky hands together. “Everything you’ll do on the event obstacle course, you can do here, and that’s what I want to show you.”

  Red takes a few fast steps and hops onto a staggered row of stools that are secured to the ground with giant springs. They shift with her weight, but she hops from stool to stool before any of them can topple to the ground. “Agility and balance,” she calls out, then leaps onto a dangling rope, and shimmies straight to the top. “Lower body strength,” she says, then takes a flying leap toward the next section, which is several feet away.

  Holy shit. Red flying through the air spurs me into action, and I run toward her.

  But she hits her target, and grabs onto the first ring of a six-ring trek. She dangles in the air as the ring turns toward the ground under her weight. “Upper body strength,” she says, and winks at me when I stop a few feet from her. Once she has a firm grip on the giant ring, she starts swinging from one to the next, each one turning as she grabs on and maneuvers to the next. She keeps traversing the first-class playground set that’s fit for the Park Avenue nanny crowd.

  As she owns each section of the equipment, she explains how it’s similar to the training obstacle course at my gym.

  She scales a net made from rope up to a giant slide, and instead of sliding down the way a kid would, she uses all four limbs to hang from underneath it and works her way down to the ground.

  She hops off and sticks a landing in the sand. I notice she lifts one foot just a hair’s width from the ground to take weight off of it. Her old injury must be acting up. Doesn’t surprise me. She’s been going balls to the wall since the first day she came to my gym.

  “For endurance training, we can do good old fashioned sprints across the park,” she says. “If that’s too easy for you weekend warriors, then buddy up and run with your partner riding piggy back.”

  Damn smart.

  Most of the women clap. Most of the guys nod, clearly convinced this is an effective way to train. Mack is the only person who throws shade Red’s way by smirking and shaking his lunky head.

  Red ignores him. “Okay, pair up. Let’s go!”

  When our teams disperse, I ease over to her. “Pretty impressive, coach.”

  “Yeah?” She says, and walks over to the bench to get her phone out of the gym bag.

  I follow her. “Yeah,” I say. “That was pretty awesome. And your advice about not pampering them didn’t fall on deaf ears.”

  “Good. Let’s get busy.”

  I’d like nothing more. My entire body aches to get busy with her.

  She waggles her phone at me. “I’ve got a stopwatch on my cell. I’ll go time the sprints. You work on the obstacle course,” she says over a shoulder as she’s walking away. “You’re gonna need the practice if you want to be any real competition for me in the coaches’ challenge.”

  No doubt, she’ll give me a nice run for my money. She’s an exceptional athlete and probably can kick my ass on the obstacle course, but when I’m in the competitive zone, I’m faster and stronger than usual. I don’t lose. Ever.

  So throwing the coaches’ challenge won’t be easy. Probably won’t be believable either. And she’ll hate me when it’s over.

  She lets out a sharp whistle. “Sprinters are with me.” She leads them away.

  By the end of the day, I’m tired. I’m sweaty. I’m aroused. Always am when I’m around Red. But mostly I want to spend time with her. Talk to her. Get to know more about her.

  Red is still over on the grassy area talking to her team, who are clearly exhausted. She’s run their asses into the ground like a good coach should.

  I say goodbye to my team and take a seat on the bench, digging my phone out of my backpack. I pull up the text she sent me when I dropped her off at her apartment. My thumbs fly over the keypad.

  Come to my place after we’re done.

  I lean back against the bench to wait for her response, and it feels good to relax.

  Red’s phone obviously dings because she excuses herself from the group and looks at the screen. Her gaze snaps to mine.

  I give her a lazy smile that says I want to spend the night in bed with you.

  She dips her head and taps on her phone.

  My phone vibrates.

  Need to go home and shower.

  I type a response.

  What a coincidence. I need a shower too. Come home with me and I’ll wash your back.

  She glances around at the dispersing team members, then strolls in my direction, t
yping on her phone.

  Need to go home and eat. I’m starved.

  I keep typing a response even though she walks over and sits next to me on the bench. We’re both staring at our phones as though we’re not texting each other.

  Another coincidence. I’m hungry too. Come home with me and we can eat. Then I’ll make dinner for you.

  My thumb hovers over the send button. I’m one hundred percent sure she’ll get my meaning because she already knows my dirty mind. But what the hell. I’m secure in my masculinity. I type a winky face and hit send.

  Her breath catches as she stares at her phone.

  The sun is sinking, making the sky a dusty purple. I’m a patient man. I stare out over the park, taking in the magnificent Manhattan skyline, and I wait for her response. The sounds of the city drift across the peaceful scenery of the park, and the spring breeze cools the air enough to make my skin pebble.

  Finally, she starts typing again.

  I’m tired. Need sleep.

  The fact that she didn’t include need to go home this time isn’t lost on me. I fire back another text.

  My bed is comfortable. Come home with me. We’ll shower, eat, and you can sleep the rest of the night with me wrapped around you.

  A tiny gasp slips through her lips as she types back.

  Do you sext all the girls you sleep with?

  I chuckle and type.

  No. And we’re not sexting. If we were, you’d be half way to an orgasm.

  She squirms when she reads my text, like maybe she already is half way to an orgasm. I don’t let this opportunity slip away. I tap in another text.

  Promise I won’t keep you up all night. We can have dinner and sleep if you want. I want you in my bed tonight. Naked, clothed, I don’t fucking care as long as I feel you next to me and wake up with you in the morning.