I ignore the dull throb between my legs and I dismiss him, moving into the pool. I take a sectioned lane in case he tries to swim near me, and I set off swimming a mile.
I’ve front-crawled three lengths before I realise he’s taken up the swim lane next to mine and dropped perfectly into rhythm alongside me.
Well that’s just pissing me off even more!
He’s fitter than me but I’ve been swimming almost every day for the last five weeks. I’m up to this challenge.
We power on. After forty lengths, he’s still matching me stroke for stroke, breath for breath. I’m starting to think what’s infuriating me more is that, whilst he’s beside me, I can’t watch his muscles move beneath the water.
Just because I’m pissed doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate him from a distance.
The only tantalising flash of him I catch is when we turn. We summersault in time and both kick off the end of the pool but his power moves him feet in front of me, until he drops back into my rhythm. In those brief moments, I watch him move, from his toes, through his legs, his flexing core, right to the tips of his fingers. His power driving forward. He really is something else.
And he loves me.Me.
Shake it off!
At fifty lengths, he’s still mirroring my moves. At sixty-four, I don’t waste time pushing up on my hands at the head of the pool and climbing out of the water. Stomping to the showers, I rinse off. For a moment, he looks like he’s going to talk to me, so I shut down the shower, grab my towel and head into the ladies’ lockers where I switch into my gym kit.
And, of course, he’s already in thefuckinggym when I get there. He feigns stretching though I know he’s actually waiting.
Oh, it’s on, Gregory Ryans.
After a quick stretch, I get on the treadmill, set the time to forty minutes and hold my finger down on the speed button until I’m running at a decent pace. I have to fight to contain my temper when he climbs onto the tread next to mine and sets his bloody machine to the same settings.
It’s a stand-off. A protest. A test of will. He wants me to concede. Like somehow beating me on the treadmill means he wins. He doesn’t win. He won’t win.
You can’t just swan back into my life and throw around ‘I love you,’ Ryans. You sent me to Dubai.
We may have been cleared of one murder, but there’s a good chance there could be a second any moment now.
At twenty minutes, I ramp up the speed further and the arsehole matches me. Damn my body for starting to tire. I need a different beat. Unhooking my phone from my bicep, I scroll through my tunes and, without thinking, select a song that’s become one of my favourites. It reminds me ofus, of being happy on our way to the opening hunt of the season. As Thirty Seconds to Mars’s ‘Kings and Queens’ blasts in my ears, I cock one eye to Gregory’s phone, resting on the lip of the treadmill screen.
He’s listening to ‘Kings and Queens’?
Thank God for reflexes. As my feet stumble and lose rhythm, I throw my hands on the side rails and take my body’s weight until I’m composed enough to drop my feet back down and into my run. I can’t resist a glance at him.
He smirks.Arrogant arse.
It’s the last straw. My body has had enough and so has my mind. I slam my hand on the big red emergency stop button and roll backwards with the belt until the machine draws to a stop. Then I plonk myself down on the end of the belt, catching my breath.
He does the same.
Panting, I look up to him. A moment of weakness. Those chocolate diamonds are staring right back at me as he leans forward on his knees.
‘Have dinner with me tonight. Please.’
‘Gregory—’
‘I’ve thought about it. Damn it, Scarlett, I’ve been thinking about it, you,us, all night. And you’re right.’
I open and close my mouth without words.
‘Have dinner with me tonight and I’ll tell you everything. If you want to walk away from me after that, I’ll understand and I’ll never ask you for anything more. I’ll leave you to move on, with someone who can treat you the way you deserve.’
I watch him with an overbearing urge to wrap him up in my arms and slap his face all at once.
‘I know I hurt you. Maybe I should have told you about Barnes and the CPS but you would never have let me go through with it and I’ll be damned if we were going to prison on a gun charge after everything we’d been through. And I know now that I shouldn’t have sent you here. I went behind your back but I swear that I did what I thought was right by you. I’m no good at this, Scarlett, any of it. You, us, it’s… I’ve never had it before and I know I keep fucking up at every turn.’
