I might have been moved by her consideration if my head hadn't filled up with images of her and another man. Maybe that boxer ex Nora had mentioned?
"My security camera caught you." I held up my phone. "Going out at midnight and coming back at four. Some might call that booty call prime time."
"I wish!"Sunny snorted and shuffled over to my state-of-the-art shiny black GoNoTo Barista machine. "Unfortunately, I was just working my usual graveyard cocktail waitress shift over at the Tourmaline Vegas. And now I've got my dance instructor gig in a couple of hours."
She yawned and stretched, sending another bolt of lust shooting straight through me.
"You're waitressing?" I had to work hard to keep the physical strain out of my voice. "At the Tourmaline Vegas?"
"Yeah, the base pay isn't the best, but the tips are great and sure to get even better when I go full-time on Monday. So I'm super grateful," she answered, fiddling uselessly with the GoNoTo Barista knobs. "The only thing is, I've got a dance class to teach in, like, ninety minutes, and I'm in desperate need of coffee. I can't even think about a shower until I've had at least one cup. Can you show me how to use this robot you call a coffee machine?"
I couldn't remember the last time a woman asked me to teach her to do anything. No, Sunny was definitely not my usual type. Not even remotely.
But somehow, I found myself making both her and myself a double shot of espresso cappuccino.
"Oh, my gosh, this tastesamazing," she said after the first sip. "If you'd told me your place came with the best coffee I ever tasted, I might not have fought you so hard on moving in."
Contrary to how we parted ways last night, Sunny hit me with a grateful smile."Are you going to be around after I get out of the shower? I'd love to have another cup before my class, and I'm not confident I understood everything you told me to do. Like, at all."
Usually, I reserved coffee as a post-workout reward. I glanced at my watch, knowing that I'd be done with my morning cardio an hour from now and ready to meet with my personal trainer for measurements and a heavy weights session. No, I didn't have time in my busy schedule to wait around for a second cup of coffee.
But instead of telling her that, I asked, "What time is your class?"
"At eight thirty," she answered, taking another sip of coffee. Then she scrunched her forehead, as if it had just occurred to her to ask, "Why do you want to know?"
CHAPTER11
Sunny
I never would've imaginedthis—not in a thousand years.
Cole.
Yes, Cole "Triple Ice" Benton actually volunteered to assist me with teaching my "Saturday Glo" dance class at the Nora Benton Community Center in Charleston Lakes (which I found out during my apartment search was ranked #1 onsincityguide.com's list of worst Las Vegas neighborhoods).
More like volun-told-me-he-was-coming-with-me whether he was invited or not. There'd been a deep sigh followed by, "I suppose I can take a rest day and swap out my usual Saturday morning with Jabbari to help you with your little thing."
I could only assume he was talking aboutthatJabbari, the one-named Persian celebrity gymfluencer who'd created his own form of martial arts called PahBoxing. Pru had dated him for one of the hot minutes she used to give men before she settled into a life of being her brother's responsible guardian.And she'd told me that his private clients included several artists in residence, a couple of reality starts, and G-Latham. I guess I could add the ruthless CEO Cole Benton to that short list.
But before I could let myself act too impressed, I had to point out, "There's nothinglittleabout my class, except for the students' ages."
Zero surprise, Cole did not apologize for his dismissive tone.
Still, as we climbed out of his Jaguar in front of his grandmother's community center and made our way toward the heavy steel door of the building's side entrance, I couldn't believe he was actually volunteering his extremely valuable time to help me teach.
Technically, I was volunteering, too. On paper, the position was paid. But since the funds for both the class and teacher came out of the Glo Johnson Charity Fund, here I was—less than four hours after I'd finished my graveyard shift at the Tourmaline—unlocking the dance classroom door with Cole right behind me.
As we walked into the dance space together, I tried and failed not to sneak a glance at him—and got snagged when I found him watching me, his pale green gaze cool and smug. Like he'd been expecting my eyes to seek him out.
Ugh, why couldn't he be like the majority of Vegas assholes: old, creepy, and lecherous?
He'd proven himself to be the absolute worst last night, without any shame or remorse whatsoever. And believe me, I truly appreciated the heads-up about his real character before I was tempted into signing that "side agreement" of his. Unfortunately, I also couldn't stop appreciating how his lean muscles moved underneath his joggers and Henley workout set. Or the way his eyes blazed when he looked back at me.
Clearly letting me know the Ice King was entertaining some hot thoughts. About me.
I cleared my throat and averted my eyes to the dance space. It was large and lined with mirrors on both walls. That was the only resemblance it bore to the rehearsal room at the Benton or the ones at UNLV.
The walls had peeling paint, several floorboards were warped, and don't even get me started on the number of mirrors clouded over or cracked from accidents that happened before Nora bought the building and splashed her name across the front of it last year.
