Chapter 2
Monday evening, Gavin did his rounds, working with the gym-goers eager to get buff. He’d nicely but firmly put Michelle off. Again. The woman was a blond barracuda who thought their one night of raunchy sex months ago entitled her to having him at her beck and call. Yeah, that had been a mistake, and he’d known it the moment he’d let her talk him into going out for “dessert.”
But he’d been drinking back then. He blamed the booze as much as he blamed his need to lose himself in something pleasurable. Damn, but Michelle knew how to use her tongue in the most inventive ways. Still not enough to tempt him back into her evil clutches. Especially not with Pink Yoga Pants working up a sweat on the elliptical.
He casually made his way over, aware Zoe didn’t chat with the people near her. She only talked to an older woman about gardening, and then only during her cooldowns. He’d eavesdropped a time or two, puzzled at what she found so fascinating about dirt. But Loretta wasn’t here, and Zoe currently moved with purpose.
Like a demon, when she jumped on a machine, she went full throttle until she’d sweated out a good gallon. She had her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and it swayed as she ran. He stopped next to her, answering a question for one of his clients about the new kettlebells Mac had ordered.
“Yeah, they’ll be in Friday, Jim. No, none of them are pink.” Gavin chuckled, then turned to Zoe, only to see her watching him, her gaze intense. “What?” She looked like she either wanted to run him over, punch him, or—dare he hope—kiss him.
“I’m just waiting for one of your incredibly fascinating comments about pink pants, small biceps, or fine form.” She didn’t sound too winded, yet she’d been on the machine for a good ten minutes at least. She was in phenomenal shape—those yoga pants didn’t lie.
He frowned. “Hey now, your biceps are just fine. Nothing small about them.” He didn’t recall ever criticizing her shape.
“I meant yours,” she said drily.
“You really are mean.”
She scowled. “I am not.”
“You are. That’s why I like you.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.” Her lips curled into a smirk, and his heart raced.
“Yet true.” Before a nearby musclehead could jump on the machine that opened up next to her, Gavin stepped in front of him, blocking the way. “Sorry, man. I’m training her.” He turned around, searching for a free machine. “There you go. That one just opened up.” He pointed out a machine in front of them before facing Zoe again.
The guy gave him an odd look and shrugged. “Well, I’m not gonna kiss you, but I get it. Poor bastard.” He chuckled and walked away, no harm no foul.
Before Gavin could ask what the guy was talking about, Zoe cut in, “Training me? Liar.” She slowed her machine, apparently done with her workout.
Gavin put on a hurt look. “But Iamtraining you. To smile. Slowly but surely, I’m working on that last nerve. The same one I’m constantly rubbing the wrong way on everyone else, according to my siblings. They, like you, have no appreciation for my sense of humor.” He bent over to touch his toes, luring her with his flexibility. When he straightened, he noticed the strange look she gave him.
Zoe glanced at him a moment more beforegrinning. Man, she had one sexy mouth. “Oh, I don’t know. I appreciate humor as much as the next gal.”
“Yeah?” He stared in awe. Her bright eyes were so…blue.
“How about this?” She added a husky laugh that shot sparks through his chest and radiated all over his body.
“You have a great laugh. You should do it more often.”
“Oh, I will.” She chuckled some more. “Thanks, Gavin. You really made my night.” Then she shocked the hell out of him when after getting off her machine, she leaned close to kiss him on the cheek.
“Th-thanks.” God willing, he would manage not to pop an erection in his thin athletic shorts in front of her and everyone else at the gym. “Not that I don’t deserve that, but what made you kiss me? Uncontrollable lust? Finally owning up to your feelings? Realizing you’re in love with my charming self?”
She looked on the verge of exploding with mirth. “You sure you want to know?”
“Well, yeah, before we set our wedding date, at least.” He grinned at her. But she laughed again, and he had a feeling it wasat—notwith—him. He frowned. “Okay, what?”
She cleared her throat, her humor still plain to see. “Well, Smoky, there’s a sign on your back that saysKiss me if you pity men with small brains.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I feel for you. It’s not your fault size really does matter.” She snickered again before leaving him busy staring over his shoulder at the mirrored wall behind him.
Son of a…Gavin saw the marker inked into his T-shirt. No doubt why he hadn’t caught it earlier. One of his idiot brothers or sister had written in black marker on his dark-blue shirt.
The war had most definitely resumed. A Donnigan family tradition—pranking on each other until somebody cried.
