Connor cocks an eyebrow. “What about the outer workings? I think you like what you see.”
I don’t not like it. I clear my throat, thankful that didn’t slip out. Instead, I just stare. My lips part a little, and not because I’m looking at his massively toned muscles. Okay, maybe a little.
“I’m surprised to see that you’re a gym rat.” He sets another plate on the barbell with a clank.
Eyes bulging, I incline my head. “Did you just say I look like a drowned rat?”
Connor’s face falls. “No, a gym rat. You know, like someone who knows their way around weights.”
I cast him a dark look. “Is that an American expression?”
“I don’t know, but I’m serious. Look it up. If anything, it’s a compliment.” Then he has the gall to wink.
“Adversaries don’t exchange compliments,” I say, lengthening my spine and restoring my resolve...also wiping my lip, but it’s sweat. Not drool. Probably.
Connor smirks like he knows all too well what just transpired. “I think the rules of engagement have changed. You just wait, I’ll have you purring in no time, Kitty Cat.”
“My name is Cateline Berghier. Miss Berghier to you.”
He lets out a growly meow like he had the last word.
I start to storm off, then slow to a strut. One that’ll make him have to repeat his workout so he can siphon off some of his frustration.
16
CONNOR
After training and showering, I make the mistake of answering the phone when my brother calls. He tells me to dress smart for the wedding.
“I have a tux. Several.”
“Naw. Can’t have you looking better than me. Not that you could. Saw at the Super Bowl that you still haven’t cut your hair. You look like a swamp rat.”
The comment makes me think of gym bunnies and gym rats. I appreciate Cateline’s strength—it makes her a formidable adversary.
“At least I still have hair,” I retort.
“Just wear something with buttons and sleeves. Don’t be late. Oh, and if you bring a date, she’s dancing with me first.”
“Not a chance.”
Cain chortles. “Well, you’ve never been able to keep a woman happy, so I’ll be sure to show her what a real man is.”
My thoughts turn to Cateline as Cain kisses and tells—a stomach-turning tale about a girl he met at the local saloon. Hopefully, it was before Lizabeth came along. Then again, after what he did, I doubt he knows the meaning of loyalty.
“Sounds like the call is breaking up. What did you say about her commenting that you have bad breath? Didn’t catch that. Talk to you—” I hang up.
The last thing I want to hear about is my brother getting intimate. Gag.
Cat had been wrong about my frustration before. Okay, maybe she was a little bit right, because that woman has me chewing my cabbage twice—in the manner of me rethinking what I thought I knew, who I thought I was.
But right now, my frustration compounds because I don’t want to see Cain unless it’s at the Enduro—in a survival setting where we know the rules and the stakes.
A wedding is a different animal altogether.
Moon-gate notwithstanding, I’ve always been respectful to women. I just don’t do second dates, callbacks, texts, or snuggling. I’m not that kind of guy. At least that’s what I’ve always told myself.
Granted, Cateline had a point about substance and personality being as important as beauty, if not more so. However, I left the notion of relationships in North Carolina along with everything else, so it doesn’t matter. I don’t need the lecture.
