by Ember Leigh
Nothing good came from alcohol. Her parents had been right. And, oh, the lesson stung.
Gen glanced over to the weight room, found it full of men strutting like proud cocks. Cobra’s gaze found hers almost immediately, and a wave of embarrassment crashed over her.
Apparently, her parents had also been right about the dangers of coming to LA. It just hadn’t been the dangers they’d expected. Instead of gun violence and prostitution, she confronted crippling embarrassment on the heels of social humiliation. She couldn’t tell if she should be proud or horrified that she’d both farted on the sexiest man in human history and drunk herself into a forgetful stupor in front of him, all in one day.
“Hey, Gen. Happy you could join us.” Travis sent her a cool smile as he came out of the employee break room. He held out a glass. “You want a protein shake?”
“Uh, no.” Her stomach turned at the spinach-green liquid. “But thank you. Should I go to my office, or do you need to reprimand me for being late?”
Travis laughed, sipping at the shake. “You’re fine. If it happens again though, we’ll talk.”
She nodded, locking eyes with him so that he could see how serious she was. “I promise that will never happen again.”
Travis winked and wandered away. Gen kept her head down as she headed to her office. She’d barely gotten inside the door when another voice pierced the air.
“Red.”
The voice felt familiar, almost like he’d been calling her that name for years. She turned slowly, clutching the handle of her bag. Cobra stood in the doorway, one arm propped on the frame. Tattoos snaked down his biceps. Swirls and letters that made her hungry to learn more. A small tuft of black armpit hair stuck out from his raised arm. This, right here, was the most intimate she’d ever been with a man. Glimpsing his armpit hair. Heat flooded her cheeks.
“Hi.”
His jaw flexed, and he stood silently for a moment. “You acted real stupid last night.”
Disappointment escaped her in a sigh, and she shook her head, dropping her purse on the desk. “I’m paying for it, I promise you.”
“You can’t drink like that.” He glanced down the hallway, then his gaze swept over her again. “You don’t know the type of shit that could go down if the wrong person finds you.”
His words bore the same warning as her parents, but something about Cobra made her eager to listen. He, of all people, would know. “I honestly don’t even want to imagine.”
“Be smarter next time.”
“Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson.” Embarrassment flamed through her. She couldn’t even meet his gaze. “All that liquor, never been sicker. Or whatever it is.”
“Was that on your list, too? Get blackout drunk and wait for someone to carry you home?”
All the air left Gen’s body in one swoop, like a spaceship’s airlock being opened. “What?”
Now Cobra looked mischievous. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Your list.”
“Yeah, I heard you,” she snapped, turning her back to him. Now heat and something else flamed through her. The abysmal knowledge that she’d hit rock bottom in her quest to prove herself. She’d come to LA and messed it all up. She couldn’t even write a secret list and keep it secret. “You weren’t supposed to see that. Nobody was supposed to see that.”
All the things she’d confessed to that notebook paper came rushing back to her. Lord in Heaven…save her this humiliation.
“All right. I’ll forget I saw it.”
“Good,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. Her entire body prickled with awareness. Cobra knew things about her that nobody in this world did. Her deepest desires, scribbled carelessly onto a sheet of paper. Every inch of her skin prickled hot and humiliated.
“You mad?”
She bit at her upper lip, considering her response. “I guess I can’t be mad. You took me home, after all.” But she could be mortified. And she would be. Maybe for the next three months. “Saved me from God knows what.”
“Your roommate wasn’t too happy,” Cobra said, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe. His face softened, allowing a flash of some inner part of him. Like the hermit crab’s soft, gelatinous underbody. He peered back down the hallway, the impassive mask sliding back into place.
Gen’s face flamed, but what could she do? Everything had exploded. The one thing left was to have Cobra walk in on her taking a crap. Mid-wipe, even. That seemed par for the course.
“She thinks I need an intervention. I explained that I’d never tasted liquor before.”
Cobra blinked. “For real?”
“Yeah.” She slid into her chair, skin prickling under Cobra’s attention. “So it was the first and the last time.”
“Well, listen. Here’s a pro tip: don’t mix your liquors.”
His steel gaze held her captive. His words felt like an admonishment, but also like a password. A secret entry to a world she was only beginning to learn.
“Got it,” she said, drawing a deep, cleansing breath. In her previous life, one thing had ever made her stomach clench up like this—doing readings at church. This was way more intense. Cobra’s scrutiny burned over her in a way a congregation of fifty politely engaged God-fearing peers couldn’t.
Cobra’s jaw flexed, and then he turned, leaving a tension in the air behind him. An unspoken comment, an aside that maybe he’d thought better of. She sat paralyzed in the silence, wanting more of him but unsure how to get it.
She turned on her loaner laptop and got busy before she could spiral into the cyclone of doubts and second-guessing. Her entire being felt fragile. Another effect of the hangover, probably—whisper-thin defenses that could crumble under one stern admonishment. And today she’d already had several.
“This is what adult life is like,” she murmured to herself as she logged into the Holt Body accounting software. “Hangovers and hotties. Get used to it.”
She’d been introduced to the accounting software yesterday, and thankfully there wasn’t an audience here as she got used to the strange format. She could fumble and ponder in peace, without the worldly stares of people who’d grown up with this technology.
After over twenty years of living in the 1950s style bubble of her closed religious community in central California, she didn’t want to admit how many facets of the modern world were as bizarre as a science fiction movie.
The first of which she’d seen last year. Men in Black. And honestly, it was a little disappointing that tiny aliens didn’t lounge in the break room here at Holt Body Fitness. Of anywhere, this sci-fi gymnasium would be the secret cosmic portal.
Her computer knowledge came from borrowed time at the hospital after her accident. Cooped up for three months after the car wreck that changed her life, she’d had more access to the outside world than her parents had ever intended. Sitcoms on television, music, the Internet, swearing. She’d accessed the slow-as-molasses computers in an Internet room during specific hours of the day, after visiting hours were over. Her daily, sinful refuge.
And all of the influences they’d striven to protect her from flooded out, monsoon-style, until she was drowning in the possibilities of life. Suddenly, there was so much more to existence. More than just family or Bible study. More than quiet, passive murmurings about a woman’s rightful place: in the dark, and in the kitchen.
No, her unrestricted Internet free-for-all, which included everything from scary romps through Reddit, enlightening articles on sexual organs, and a free accounting class that helped expand on her bookkeeping role at home, cultivated a worldly Gen. The worldliest of anyone in her family, at least.
She’d always had curiosities pushing at the edges of her mind. Inklings she knew to tamp down, lest anyone suspect she wanted anything other than their God-centered lifestyle and closed community.
The accident had been the hardest part of her life. But maybe also the biggest blessing.
Gen murmured to herself as she clicked through th
e recent expenses at Holt Body Fitness. “Hangovers and hotties. Lessons and embarrassment.” She shook her head, envisioning steel armor clicking into place around her body. “This is exactly what you asked for. Farts and all, you better make the best of it.”
“What was that?”
Her gaze shot to the door. Cobra had returned, three bottles tucked under his arm. He sauntered inside, the bottles making distinct thuds as he set down each one in turn on her desk.
“Um…” she began. Her embarrassment fermented, creating a live culture of dismay. Maybe she should stop trying. At least with Cobra. Since, clearly, she was destined to eat her words, stick her foot in her mouth, and generally make a fool of herself. “Just singing to myself. What’s this?”
“Water.” His expression said duh. “Mix this into at least one bottle.” He set a few packets of something down. “And then take these.” He sprinkled a couple of pills onto the desktop from his other hand.
“What’s all this for?” she asked, blinking up at him.
“Hangover cure.” He winked. The simple act sent a tidal wave of heat through her. “It’s ibuprofen. Drink up, Red.”
Cobra turned and strutted out of the office. She gaped after him. This man was more than just a sexy colleague or someone she consistently, unabashedly stumbled in front of.
This man was her guardian angel.
Chapter 5
Cobra’s mind drifted as he spotted for a client on the bench press. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Gen since the moment he laid eyes on her yesterday. Couldn’t have stopped thinking about her if he wanted to.
The client huffed from the bench, and the bar dipped. Cobra snapped to attention, eyeing his progress. “Elbows,” he said.
Across the weight room, Travis sauntered in. The man sucked up the air whenever he came around. Cobra could feel him strutting around the room, his eyes on Cobra and the client. Half of him craved looking at Travis with a sneer and saying, “Am I doing a good job, boss?” But Cobra had always had a problem with authority.
Travis came up to him once the client had wandered away. He propped his foot up on the bench, resting forearms against the barbell.
“How do you like it here so far, Cobra?”
The frank business talk set him back for a second. Cobra grabbed at a sweat towel, running it over the back of his neck even though he wasn’t sweating. Working here required a five-minute personal pep talk while he white-knuckled the steering wheel each morning. But he didn’t think Travis would get it. “I like it.”
Travis studied him for a second. “Yeah? What do you think about becoming a personal trainer?”
The words didn’t register for a second. Travis straightened. He had only an inch on Cobra in height, but the man’s muscle intimidated more. Cobra couldn’t help but let his gaze slide over the beefy bulk of his arms.
“I’ve never trained anyone before,” Cobra said quietly, his voice getting lost in the clank and grunts of the patrons around them. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Well, you start where you are.” Travis grinned. “I’ve been watching you. You already know what you’re doing. You just need to get certified.”
Cobra nodded, the back of his throat tight. Couldn’t decide on excitement or fear. “All right.”
“So here’s what we do. I’m linked up with one of the certifying institutions. What you do here with me, while you’re working here, counts toward your classes. Which means that once you’re ready, all you have to do is take the test and pass…and then you start seeing clients of your own.”
Cobra jerked his gaze to the ground. The offer was too good. He didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t say why. “Aw, shit. You make it sound easy.”
“It is. It will be for you, anyway.” Travis pushed at his shoulder. “I thought you’d be more excited about this.”
Cobra kept his face passive. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. There were plenty of things that could strip this golden-platter opportunity of its charm. “Yeah. I’m excited. It’s a big deal.”
“It is. And we can start now. I want to get you paired up. You have any friends that might be willing to work with you? Someone who needs help with something? It’ll be practice. I can check in from time to time to see how you’re doing.”
Red came to mind immediately. Item number eight on her list, not that he’d memorized it or anything. Certainly hadn’t stared at it for hours last night while he couldn’t sleep. Fix my leg.
He’d seen a gnarly scar on her knee. And that limp when she was drunk. There had to be something worth training there. Maybe he wanted the excuse to be near her. Probably already fucking up the physical trainer’s oath or whatever, but hell. He wasn’t a saint.
“Yeah, actually. The new girl here. The red-head.”
“Gen?” Travis arched a brow. “I was thinking of a more challenging client, if possible.”
“Well, she’s got this thing with her leg…” Cobra trailed off, unsure what else to say. He didn’t know shit about her, really.
“Ah, that’s right.” Travis scratched at his jaw, nodding. “I remember Amara telling me something about a car crash. Yeah, that’ll be good. I’ll get you set up, let’s say, starting next week?”
Car crash? Cobra nodded, though it felt mechanical. Something nagged at him, way down in the pit of his stomach, like a virus needling into his cells. This wouldn’t end well, but how did he know that? He jerked his chin at Travis in lieu of a goodbye as the man traipsed off.
He knew it wouldn’t end well because nothing ended well.
It wasn’t cynicism. Just facts.
Cobra picked up the sweat rag and wiped at his cool neck again. These white walls and shiny stainless-steel accents weren’t for him. Who was he kidding? He needed to get the fuck out of here while he could still keep his shit together.
He swallowed a knot, gaze moving to the far wall of windows. His beat-up Corolla was parked out there. Waiting for him to slip into those three minutes of skin-melting heat until he could get the windows down and the breeze circulating. What the hell would life be like with a new car? With an air conditioner that worked?
His stepdad’s memory came to him. The salt and pepper hair over soft, drooping eyes. As if the weight of being with Cobra’s mother had made his face bend downward. Patrick would have beat his ass if he’d come home after ditching a gig like this. He couldn’t walk away. Not yet. Not so soon.
He drew a labored breath. The air of the gym was thick with sweat and douchebags. He didn’t want to stay…but he didn’t want to go either.
Cobra grabbed a rag to wipe down some of the equipment. This, at least, was better than his last gig. Operating a car wash. Waving people onto the tire racks, helping them steer an inch to the right or an inch to the left. There weren’t many options for him in life. Not with his history. Not with his attitude.
Through the tall glass panes locking in the weight room like an invisible fence, he saw Red flit into the reception area, bright auburn tresses teetering between messy and cascading. Her shy gaze flitted his way.
His cheek twitched with a suppressed smile. Those emerald eyes shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him. At this point in life, he’d done it all and seen even more. She wasn’t anything special. None of these people were. She was an awkward, sheltered girl trapped in the nineties.
Red looked at him a little too long and ran straight into the reception desk. She doubled over, clutching at her knee. Her exclamation was muted behind the glass enclosed workout room.
A laugh escaped him. A couple curious glances skated his way.
He straightened his back and wiped down the bench press.
So maybe she was a little special. Just enough to catch his attention—like a fish: hook, line, and virgin.
Chapter 6
Two days managed to go by without an embarrassing incident that rendered her flame red and in mourning. At this point, she had a whole different list going of all the ways she’d managed to emb
arrass herself in front of Cobra. Was this some sort of spiritual exam? The final test of God?
It would make sense—maybe her father was right. Coming to LA was a bad choice, so God would punish her until embarrassment drove her back home on her knees. Dating boys was evil, and thinking about sixty-nine-ing would cause her to run headfirst into a very visible reception desk, while her crush absorbed every last detail of the crash.
But even her father’s strict rule couldn’t abolish masturbation from her life. Gen rubbed herself to climax every night, more ritual than habit, while dark images of Cobra’s face danced behind her lids. Masturbation was no stranger to her. It was the only way she’d survived young adulthood.
Now, she was experiencing how much more intense the climax could be with a bona fide hottie filling her mind. Before, it had always been some weird, earthly rendition of Jesus. After all, that’s what every woman of child-bearing age was supposed to want. The perfect, sinless man who could perform miracles—like knock Gen up without the stain of sexual intercourse—and intuit her every thought.
But it was time to shuck the Jesus fantasy. It was time to stain her purity. And Cobra seemed a little devilish.
Was this obsession? Cobra filled her thoughts constantly. And not only at work, when she caught a soul-scorching glance of him. He followed her home; into the shower; into bed.
It settled strangely, knowing that he’d seen the inside of her frumpy bedroom and she couldn’t even remember it. But somehow, she could feel the fact that he’d been there. As if he’d permanently wended the magnetic energy of the room.
Gen pushed into her apartment with a sigh. Her leg ached, after being on her feet all day. The car crash that had nearly taken her life left her with one never-ending reminder: a deficit on her left side that became aggravated with too much upright time. Or, as she’d recently found out, too much alcohol.
“Hey, you.” Her roommate, Sophie, cast her a quick smile as she flitted from the hallway into the kitchen. With a black bob and studded shorts, she looked alternative but secretly was another fundamentalist escapee whose morals were formed rigid early on. Sophie and Gen had known each other in their previous lives, but Sophie escaped at age seventeen—and never turned back. It had taken the worst night of Gen’s life to find the gall to break free. But, unlike Sophie, Gen wanted a dip in the external waters. Just so she could know and return wiser. More convicted.
