“You want to see my basement?” Again my tone had taken on a mood of its own.
Kayla bit her bottom lip and I forced myself to look away. Yeah, I definitely needed to get laid.
“Come on,” I insisted, turning toward the back staircase that led to my basement. Part of my downstairs housed my home office where I worked on days I didn’t feel like or have time to go into Townsend Industry offices. However, the main part of the basement remained unfinished. And was furnished with a punching bag, speed bag, weights, treadmill, a mat, and other equipment. Just the way I liked it.
I heard Kayla gasp behind me. I turned and from her profile, as she glanced around, I could see her forehead contort into a wrinkle of confusion.
“It’s not finished? Did you move in early?” she questioned.
“No.”
“So you wanted it like this? With concrete walls and floors. You could’ve had a state of the art gym down here. Instead …”
“It’s got everything I need.”
She looked to me, tilting her head and stared for a moment before saying, “Yeah … it suits you.”
I lifted an eyebrow meant to encourage her to continue.
“It’s a little jarring at first. From the outside and first two floors of the house, everything is immaculate. Beautiful marble floors, granite countertops, guest rooms that rival many hotel rooms in luxury. But then you come down here and it’s unfinished, or not unfinished, butraw.”
“Raw.” I ran the word over in my mind, glancing around at my basement gym.
“Yeah, untamed. Kind of looks incomplete but it is completed. Finished just to your liking. It’s kind of like … you.”
“Explain,” I encouraged.
Her shoulders raised on a shrug. “It reminded me of my first impression of you, in sixth grade. You remember?”
In spite of myself a smile touched my lips at the memory. “How could I forget?”
She dipped her head and flattened her bun with her hand.
Again, my fingers twitched to run them through her hair and mess up the perfectly tamed hairstyle.
“I remember thinking, of coursethiskid is a Townsend. He looks the part. Tall, even for sixth grade, perfectly cropped hair, and cute. I just knew you were going to be a douche.”
I snorted.
“Anyway,” she paused, glancing around for a moment before moving closer to the punching bag that hung from the ceiling, “do you box?”
“A little.”
She glanced back around the room. “My guess is more than just a little.”
I remained silent, folding my arms across my chest.
“Are you any good?”
“Why, you think you can take me?” I teased.
Something flashed in her eyes just before she turned her head from me. I wondered what the hell that look was about but chose not to question it.
“Could you teach me?” Her voice was light, deceptively so. As if she wanted to make it seem like the question was no big deal, but there was something in her eyes …
“Teach you to box?”
“Yes. Fight. Self-defense.”
