“No,” Roxy said, her tone firm. “It’s notthatclose to being empty. I would rather eat slugs than waste that stuff like that.”
“Did you take it to work? Maybe put it in your locker?”
Roxy spun in a slow circle, shaking her head. “No, I don’t like that one for work. I use the Tornado one for work nights, and I keep it right there in my locker.”
Stomping angrily to the kitchen, she flung open random cabinet doors, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be in with her baking spices or canned goods, then when of course it didn’t pop up amongst the boxes of cereal, she huffed angrily, gripping the phone in her hand as she squeezed her eyes shut.
“It will show up in the last place you look!” Natalie said with forced cheerfulness.
“Not helpful, Nat,” Roxy growled in annoyance. “I just don’t understand! I’m missing my favorite red panties, too. The one that has the matching bra. I have no idea where they went. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“I would suggest the gym bag again, but I feel like that would be asking to get tit-punched the next time I see you,” Natalie mumbled, and Roxy laughed finally.
“Probably a safe bet,” she sighed, then sank down onto one of the backless barstools pulled up to the kitchen island. She let her face fall into her free hand. “Have you recovered from last night’s class yet?”
“No!” Natalie whined. “The man is the devil incarnate. There’s no way the human body can do that and still function. The only explanation is that he is in fact,nothuman.”
Roxy laughed. Travis was a beast. He barely broke a sweat during the kickboxing lessons, but by the end of the hour, Roxy was always flat on her back on the mat and Natalie appeared to be dead. She was surprised that Natalie had stuck with the classes, as adverse she was to perspiration, especially in front of Travis.
“My legs still don’t work properly,” Natalie continued. The high kicks into the body bags following Travis’s instruction had been difficult, the heavy bags impossible to move. But thepractice of kicking into the padded mitts on Travis’s hands had been brutal in a totally different way. Roxy had maintained leveling her eyes on a spot on the mitt andabsolutely nowhere elseon the man’s mind-numbingly hot body. She also refused to look him in the eyes. Those whiskey and honey-colored eyes were too intoxicating, especially up close. “Trying to sit on the toilet to pee and get back up is its own special form of torture that the CIA should look into utilizing.”
Roxy laughed again, brought back from her reverie of all of that tanned, tattooed, insanely muscled skin that was always so distractingly on display every class. He wore a pair of tight exercise shorts—the material as they clung to his heavily muscled thighs reminded her of a sexy pair of boxer briefs—which she assumed were to keep the family jewels from being on full display beneath a slightly shorter pair of loose gym shorts. The only other thing that adorned his body was the colored athletic tape that crisscrossed his large hands, protecting his knuckles.
Roxy didn’t bother with the tape, just a pair of kickboxing gloves she’d purchased offAmazon— Prime shipping had saved her life after the first class and her knuckles had been beyond tender. He’d noticed the way she was pulling punches and had startled her by asking to take a look at her hands.
He’d taken them, one at a time, into his large ones. One hand encircled her wrist, his fingers pressing into the pulse point on the inside of her wrist, and she was terrified he could feel her heartbeat as it skyrocketed at his touch. His other hand curled and uncurled her hands into fists several times, then the pad of his thumb ran over the tender skin across her knuckles.
She had felt it all the way in her belly.
Nope. No. No no.
He had been talking to her in that low, gentle tone that he seemed to reserve for her and her alone. He never spoke thatway to Natalie… or any of the other women.Notthat she had noticed. Definitely hadn’t noticed… or secretly swooned because he seemed to pay closer attention to her than others…
“You’re going to want to bandage these, or find some gloves to protect the knuckles, Red,” he’d murmured quietly, his thumb still stroking over the ridge of knuckles on her left hand. His hazel eyes were searching hers. “I can tape them if you’d like. Or I can show you how.”
“Uhh,” she’d stammered like an idiot, caught irretrievably in the golden brown of his eyes. She tugged her hand out of his grasp and shook her head. “That’s not necessary. I’ll get some gloves.”
She’d damn near tripped on her own feet as she’d turned and bolted away from him. Her heart was in her throat. Touching her wrist shouldn’t have been so…soerotic. What was this,Bridgerton? An ankle exposed, a wrist touched, and suddenly there was a herd of elephants stampeding through her midsection?Not good.
Little warning bells had started going off in her head, as if warning of danger ahead.
She’d studiously avoided eye contact or any kind of physical touching in the three weeks since, unless absolutely necessary for the class.
“Ugh, maybe I’m just losing my mind…” Wracking her brain, she sank down onto the foot of her bed.
“Well, what do you need that perfume for right now anyway?” Natalie asked. Roxy could hear her vehicle’s blinker through the phone. “And you’re going to be late for work if you don’t leave in the next like, five seconds.”
Roxy growled. “I know. I just, I feel like I’m losing my mind. It was right there, I swear… And I’m trying to find my cutoffs. Mygoodcutoffs.”
“Ooh. The ones that make your ass look—” Natalie made the sound for a chef’s kiss and Roxy laughed, rolling her eyes as Nat continued, “—mmm. Fucking divine. I’d tap that ass in those jean shorts.”
“You’re a hussy,” Roxy laughed, finally giving up on the missing perfume and spotting the cutoffs buried in the laundry she’d piled in the corner. She hiked them up her thighs and over her ass, buttoning them, then secured her belt around her waist, shoving her feet into her boots.
She checked her reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner of her room one more time. The short, cutoff jean shorts hit high on her thighs, the pockets hanging out of the bottom slightly. Over the knee brown cowgirl boots adorned her feet, and a tightly fitted, plain black t-shirt was tucked into the waist of the shorts. Her signature silver and turquoise embellished belt buckle was strapped around her waist, and her curls had been piled on top of her head into an artfully messy topknot. Chunky turquoise earrings dangled from her ears and a wide silver bangle bracelet twisted on her wrist.
Her make-up was far less done up than several of the other girls that worked with her atLawless, the line dancing bar that was a hot spot just outside of Fort Worth. Though it had gained traction with the tourists visiting Fort Worth, it was still a favorite spot for the locals, a little hidden gem that she hoped stayed that way.
“Are you in the fucking car yet? You’re going to be late,” Natalie groused, and then the sound of a car door closing hit her ears. Natalie must have just gotten to work. She really was running late if Natalie was there already. “And I am not taking that Matty bullet for you again, sis.”
