by Emma Louise
“Bro, hands down the sweetest ass I’ve seen in a long time,” Jonah, my best fighter, says as he dumps his gym bag and ducks into the ring. He came to me three years ago as a skinny fifteen-year-old kid with too much anger and no idea what to do to channel it. The guy with him, Danny, is new to Flex, but he’s shown a lot of potential so far. “You won’t hear me arguing with you on that one.” They bump fists, both laughing.
These two are great kids, but I’m not in the mood to listen to their shit today. “You two ready to stop acting like horny teenagers yet?” I ask, throwing a roll of hand tape at Jonah.
“T, you would be saying the same if you were treated to the view we just got.” Working in a gym, I’ve seen more than my fair share of attractive woman. I definitely once viewed it as a perk of the job. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure she was hot. Now can you get warmed up? We don’t have all day,” I grumble.
The rest of the day passes quickly. The guys are in great form, and we’ve come up with some solid training plans. I am exhausted, though. Keeping up with two nineteen-year-olds isn’t as easy as it used to be. I can’t wait to get home, so I skip my usual shower, instead making quick work of getting everything shut down so I can leave. I end up walking upstairs behind the rest of the guys, yet again they’re talking crap.
“There’s no way.” Danny laughs. “You are so not her type.”
“Fifty bucks says I am her type, and I can get her to agree to a date by this weekend,” Jonah returns.
“You do know you sound like a pair of dickheads right now, right?” I say from behind them, causing them both to turn to face me. Jonah has the decency to blush a touch. He obviously didn’t realize I was there.
“We were just goofing around, T. Didn’t mean anything by it.” He’s a good kid so I don’t doubt he’s just got caught up in the moment. He’s not had the easiest of starts in life. His mom moved them around a lot trying to hide from his dad, so he struggled to make and keep friends. His dad eventually found them and is now serving a life sentence for killing his mom. He and his sister were raised in foster care after that. He works here part time as well as training with me as often as possible.
“Goofing around is one thing. Making bets on getting a woman in to bed is something else entirely.” I’ve caused more than my fair share of broken hearts over the years, and I'm the last person they should be taking advice from, but here we are.
“Got it.”
“You’re right.”
They both agree, looking sheepish.
“No more bets?” I ask.
“No bet. But I'm still askin’ her out.” His grin is infectious as he speaks. “I’m not kidding when I say she’s smoking hot. Even with the pink hair.” He walks away chuckling, Danny following close behind him. Completely unaware of the bomb he just dropped.
Pink hair. What are the odds?
I knew Keir was going to offer Breeze the instructor position, but I kept my mouth shut and didn’t ask any questions. It seemed safer that way. So what if I found her attractive? Getting involved with anyone isn’t on my list of shit to do anytime soon. Especially not someone as young and innocent looking as Breeze. Fuck no, I already decided I'll be ignoring her as much as possible. There have been plenty of opportunities to get laid over the past few months. I just haven't been tempted to give in to any of them. It shouldn’t be difficult; there’s no reason our paths should cross too often. I’ll do my best to make sure of it.
So why am I suddenly itching to go see if she’s still here?
Instead of giving into the urge, I put my head down and make my way to my truck. Something tells me I’m going to be spending a lot of my time avoiding the girl who’s been on my mind more than I’m comfortable admitting over the last week.
I’ve come to find out that I was right. It would take all of my effort to avoid her. But I've also come to realize it is pointless. Staying away from Breeze is never going to be an option, not when she wouldn’t let it be one.
Chaining up my bicycle, I jog up the steps and into Flex. I might have picked it up for practically pennies at a yard sale, but that bike means I’m not spending money on running a car so it’s here to stay.
Today marks one week since I started working here, and so far, I absolutely love it. I was a bag of nerves that first day, but once Keir introduced me to Lucy and told me she’d be the one to go to if I had any issues, I immediately relaxed. It’s never easy taking over an established class, people tend to find a yoga instructor they like and stick with them, but with the previous instructor at Flex going on an extended maternity leave, it was either me or they’d have to find classes elsewhere. Luckily for me, the majority opted to stick with me. I’m running ten classes a week here, and between that and picking up some shifts with Fleur, I'm exhausted.
I just have to keep reminding myself to think of the money I'm saving. The more I work, the quicker I’ll be able to travel.
Dropping off my backpack in the employee room, I stop to chat with a few of the other trainers. I’ve been keeping to myself for the most part. I’m not anti-social as such, but making friends doesn’t come naturally to me. Everyone here has been friendly enough, but I’m quite a bit younger than most. Surprisingly, one of the few people I’ve bonded with is the same trainer who had so blatantly checked me out the day of my interview. My first official day of work, he introduced himself and offered to show me around; this time there was no uncomfortable ogling.
That’s not to say he doesn’t flirt with me any chance he gets. He's relentless, but I'm sure he’s just joking around. At least I hope he is.
“There she is!” Jonah announces loudly, causing everyone else in the room to turn and look at us. I feel my cheeks start to burn in embarrassment. “Let me guess, you just couldn’t resist me anymore, and you’re here to finally agree to a date.” He grins at me, dimple on show and everything.
I can’t help but laugh at his antics. Jonah is undoubtedly gorgeous. He’s also funny, and something tells me that underneath all the bad boy posturing, he’s actually a bit of a sweetheart. Part of me almost wishes I was attracted to him.
Leaning further toward him, I lower my voice seductively before I answer him. He’s not the only one who can flirt for fun. “Not today. Not ever.” He wasn’t expecting me to get so close to him, and his eyes widen in shock. I can’t help but laugh at the light blush on his cheeks. I'm about to move away, but before I get the chance to, a deep voice thunder’s from right behind me.
“Any chance of some work getting done around here today? Or am I paying you to try to get laid?”
Turning around, I see the snide voice belongs to the guy who’s been running through my thoughts way too much lately. TJ stands with his thick thighs planted wide and his huge arms crossed across his chest. My eyes eat up the sight of him, and by the time they make it to his face, I find he’s staring at me, looking entirely unimpressed. His whole frame is rigid, except for the tick in his jaw.
Realizing I’m still touching Jonah, I shift away from him awkwardly. Should I apologize? Even though I know I'm not doing anything wrong, the fact that he seems to be angry at me makes me want to explain myself. Something about this moment causes an uneasy feeling to sink through me.
“I wasn’t ... I mean, we were—” I stumble, trying to find the words, but he effectively cuts me off when he swings his gaze toward Jonah and speaks over me.
“You were due in the ring ten minutes ago. You think you can avoid wasting time on pointless distractions for a while?”
Ouch.
I have no idea what I've done to deserve his disdain, and I shouldn’t care, but that comment hurts, nevertheless.
“Who pissed you off already this morning?” Jonah asks TJ on a laugh, before he turns and plants an obnoxiously loud kiss on my cheek.
“Gotta run before he starts cracking the whip.” He even throws me a wink before turning toward the doorway where TJ stands, his stance still locked in place.
TJ doesn’t move. Doesn't l
ook at me. Not until Jonah has walked out. Once he’s left, the silence he leaves behind is thick. Looking around, I realize we’re the only ones left in here. Finally, his eyes swing toward me, and I’m frozen in place. I still have the urge to try to explain things to him, anything to get him to have a conversation with me. The few words we’ve traded have been all too brief.
It feels like we’re locked in a silent battle. I just wish I knew what the fight was over. It feels like minutes since either of us have taken a breath, but it’s probably no more than a few seconds. It’s not until he turns to leave that I finally release some of the tension that’s been gripping me. I barely make it a few steps when I see him hesitate in the doorway, just before he turns to look at me once again.
“Jonah might not have told you, but he’s training hard-core right now. At least try to keep the flirting to a minimum if you can; he really doesn’t need any distractions.”
It’s pointless trying to explain to him that he’s gotten the wrong end of the stick. That he’s misunderstood whatever it is he thinks he walked in on. He’s made up his mind about me, and for whatever reason has decided not to like me. I’m not sure why I'm letting his obvious dislike bother me so much. So far, I’ve had two encounters with TJ Harmon, and both times he’s acted like a dick, not letting me get a word in edgewise. Two conversations, a handful of words, and he’s decided that I’m not good enough to listen to.
Well fuck him. I try not to let many things get to me, but he’s pushed me too far. Before TJ can get more than a few steps down the hallway, I follow behind, calling after him.
"Be careful, you almost sound a little jealous there.”
His dark gaze doesn’t waver as I wait for his retort, but nothing comes. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge me at all, just turns and walks away once more.
By the time I’ve finished both my morning classes, I’m more than ready for lunch. I lost my appetite for breakfast after the run in with TJ this morning. Luckily the employee room is empty. I’ve decided it’s best for everyone if I put some distance between Jonah and I for a while. It’ll suck, but at least no one will be able to call me a distraction.
I quickly throw my lunch in the microwave, planning to take it upstairs to the empty studio. Hopefully if I’m quick I'll avoid bumping into anyone. I have an hour before my next class is due to start.
I’m halfway upstairs when I hear the unmistakable sound of a baby crying. Not just a cry, but a full-on wail. The sound is so out of place that I stop and listen for a second. The only small child I’ve seen around here is Keir’s son, Chase, and he’s almost two. These cries are from a tiny baby.
It’s probably none of my business, but that doesn’t stop me from going to see what’s going on. Making my way toward the offices, the cries get louder. Passing by the rooms with closed doors, I don’t bother to check them; I can already tell where the noise is coming from. And it’s the last place I would have expected it to be.
Stopping outside of the slightly open door, I swipe my clammy hands down the leg of my pants. Before I can tell myself this is a terrible idea, I give the door a small knock. I’m not surprised it isn't heard over the loud wails. I’m getting déjà vu. This isn’t the first time I've stood outside this door waiting to be heard.
The second knock causes the door to open a little wider. Deciding to commit fully to this stupid idea, I push the door open wide enough to enter the room. I figure he already hates me, so what’s the worst that could happen? Once I get a look at the view inside that room, I decide it was worth any potential backlash. Even with a screaming baby, the view is spectacular.
TJ stands in front of a huge glass desk. He’s shirt is off and is tucked into the back of his black gym shorts. Shorts that do nothing to hide his muscular thighs. My eyes roam over each and every muscle of his back, watching as they bunch and flex with his movements. His tattoos look like they’re dancing as he moves. I’d make a fortune if I took a picture of him like this and sold it.
He’s holding the baby tucked close to his chest, and I can just make out the top of its head. He’s gently bouncing side to side, attempting to sooth the poor little thing. He’s holding onto it like it’s the most precious thing in the world, murmuring the whole time. It surprises me that this brutal looking guy can be so gentle. I’ve only gotten to see the hard TJ. This soft side of him is intoxicating, and I could stand here all day looking at him.
I’m lost in the sight of him, of them. So lost that I don’t even notice when TJ turns and spots me standing there.
“What are you doing in here?”
Listening to Abel cry like this for the last fifteen minutes is killing me. I've made sure he’s not hungry or dirty. I’m guessing it’s the tooth he seems to be cutting, but the baby Tylenol he had thirty minutes ago doesn’t seem to be doing shit.
Mom was supposed to have him today, but both her and dad have a sickness bug. I hoped to get most of my work done while he took his morning nap, but he’s been fractious since he woke up. I can’t take him home while he’s this upset; there’s no way I could concentrate on driving. I’ve tried everything I can think of to calm him, and so far nothing I try is working.
This is the part they don’t mention in any of the many baby books I’ve read. They don’t tell you what to do when you’ve tried everything to get them to stop crying. I could call my mother, but she’ll just try to take over. I love her and she’s been nothing but amazing with Abel, but I want to learn how to deal with this shit by myself. I can’t keep running to other people for help all the time.
Shifting him in my arms, I bring his head closer to my chin, hoping he’ll hear my voice over his cries. “I got you, bud. No need to cry. Your dad’s got you,” I keep on chatting nonsense to him, but nothing is making a difference.
I’m about to cave and call my mom when I notice movement in the reflection of the mirror to the side of my desk. Turning around, I’m surprised to see Breeze standing just inside my office. Just what I need, her to see me fail at being a dad.
“What are you doing in here?”
The words come out on a snap. It’s not intentional, but having her witness this shit show is enough to set me into asshole mode.
Again.
She looks unsure of herself, shifting slightly from one foot to the other and back again, hands twisting in the bottom of her shirt.
“I heard the commotion and wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.” Her soft voice has the tiniest hint of a rasp. The sound hardly audible over the racket Abel is still making. “I’ve been known to work magic on my sister’s babies.” She shrugs and this time when she speaks, Abel’s head swings in her direction. He doesn’t quieten down, just looks at her as he keeps crying.
A big part of me wants to tell her thanks, but no thanks. That I don’t need help from her or anyone else for that matter. Pride is a complex thing when you’re a parent. You have to learn to accept help, even when you have a stubborn streak as wide as mine. A stubborn streak that wars with the side of me, that knows I should just accept her offer.
I have to remind myself that she’s offering to help Abel, not me. My pride needs to take a back seat for once.
“You’re sure?” I ask, giving her the chance to change her mind. She doesn’t answer, just rolls her eyes and walks further into the room. Closer to me.
Close enough for me to smell whatever perfume it is she’s wearing. It’s something light and crisp, like fresh air. She doesn’t touch me, but I can feel her next to me, the air between us feels charged.
Placing her hand lightly on Abel’s back, Breeze rubs small circles over and over. He doesn’t take his eyes off her, but the cries continue.
“Hey, handsome,” she coos, a wide smile on her pretty face. “What’s all this fuss about, hey?” For the first time I realize how small she is compared to me. She's barely past my shoulders.
“I think it’s his teeth,” I tell her. “He’s not hungry, he’s been changed. He hasn’t missed a
nap either. I have no idea what else to do for him.”
“Poor little man.” She pouts, rubbing her hand over his head. “Can I?” She holds her hands out toward him, looking up at me with those clear, crystal blue eyes, and I’m pretty sure I’d struggle to tell her no, no matter what she’s asking of me.
“Sure.” I shift the baby so she can grab ahold of him. She moves him so he’s laying with his head in the crook of her arm and his body turned in toward hers. Then she starts swaying side to side.
He still doesn’t stop crying, and I'm about to ask her to hand him back when Breeze does the last thing I expect.
She starts to sing.
I don’t recognize the song. She’s singing so low I can’t make out the words, but for the first time in what feels like hours, Abel’s cries slow to a few soft mewls. He brings his fist to his mouth and starts to chew on it.
“Has he had any pain relief?” she asks. Except, she doesn’t just ask, she sings the question to me in the same low tone she’s been using the last few minutes. Does she expect me to answer her the same way? She’s shit out of luck if she does. I answer her, normally, telling her how much Tylenol he had and about the awful gel I rubbed on his gums earlier.
“Okay then, handsome, let’s see what we can do for you.” Making her way to the Pack’n’Play that’s set up in the corner of my office, Breeze never stops swaying side to side as she goes. Of course, my eyes track every sway of her hips as she walks. Letting my gaze wander further, I take her in from head to toe. Her hair is more of a blonde than pink now, the color faded out. She’s braided it and it rests over one shoulder, the other bare apart from the thin strap of her cami. I’m struck by the thought of what it might be like to run my tongue over the smooth skin that’s on show. I bet she tastes fucking amazing.
Jesus fuck, there’s something wrong with me.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I follow behind her just in time to see her gently place Abel on the changing mat that rests across the top of the crib. I brace for the tears to start again, but I'm shocked as shit to see him lay there. He’s perfectly content watching Breeze.
