Palms on the table, I lean forward. “I’m just that scary. All it takes is one look and everyone gets out of my way.”
Her lips twitch. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I amused her.
“I’m in a building nearby,” she says. “I’ll meet you there.”
“You have the address?”
“Google. Duh.”
Here I was thinking she’d looked me up. As if. She can’t make her disdain any clearer. I gesture for her to precede me into the hall, then glance at her ass as she walks two steps ahead of me. It’s heart-shaped and perky. Exactly the kind of ass I like. If only it didn’t come attached to such a smart-mouthed package.
* * *
The parking lotat the gym is nearly empty this time of day, and though I hear music and thuds inside, no one else is around out here. Nick has left, having better things to do than babysit me, and I lean on the hood of my Camaro, ankles crossed, arms folded over my chest to combat the chill in the air.
Finally, a tiny electric Nissan pulls onto the asphalt and crawls to a halt beside me. Pushing off from the Camaro, I pace a circle around the Nissan while Lena messes with something in the glove compartment. Her car is shiny, as if it’s just been washed, and it’s well-kept. A sticker on the front windshield shows it was serviced this month, and when I peer through the window, the interior is immaculate too.
Is this girl human? My Camaro smells like used gym gear and has protein bar wrappers stuffed under the seats. That’s how it should be. Lena’s Nissan has no personality.
“Took you long enough,” I say when she thrusts the door open and slides out, her heeled shoes clacking on the asphalt.
She swings a bag over her shoulder, nearly taking me out, and starts toward the gym entrance. “Not everyone gets special treatment. It took me fifteen minutes to get to my car.”
“Hold up.” I jog to catch her—she moves surprisingly fast in those shoes. When I touch her arm, she flinches and I drop my hand instantly. What’s with that? I didn’t take her for the jumpy type. Sassy and feisty, yes. Nervy, no. “Before you go in, we need to lay some ground rules.”
She cocks her head and tries to smirk, but I can tell my touch has shaken her. “Go ahead. Lay down the law.”
She’s fishing for a reaction and I want to bite, but I resist. The less she gets from me, the sooner she’ll be gone. Besides, I’m intrigued by her strange reaction. “Don’t ask any questions. Don’t distract the other guys. Their training time is precious. Keep off the mats, I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“So I should sit in the corner and not talk to anyone?” She wishes she could hit me. I can read the blood lust in her eyes and pray none of my brothers see fit to hand her a pair of gloves.
“Now you’re getting it.”
“I’ll do my best not to mess up your training.” She speaks through gritted teeth. “But I reserve the right to talk to people before they begin and after they’re done.”
“Fair.” Probably as much as I can ask for. “Just so you know, it’s nothing fancy.”
“Jase.” She meets my eyes. Holds the contact. Her earlier hesitation is gone. “I have been in a martial arts gym before. This isn’t new to me.”
“Oh, right. Go on, then.”
When we enter, our eyes take a moment to adjust because the gym only has a few windows, located high enough on the walls that no one can break in. At least, not without some serious forethought. With the exception of a strip of concrete immediately inside the door, the entire floor is covered by alternating gray and black mats nearly an inch thick. At the far end is the octagon we practice in, and heavy black bags line the wall opposite the entry—some reaching the ground, some only for boxing, and a couple of speed bags for stamina and endurance.
I breathe in the scent of leather, liniment and sweat. It’s so familiar to me. So welcoming. This place is home. Much more so than the fancy house I sleep in every night.
How does my favorite place look through Lena’s eyes? Does she understand the pain and hard work that happens here? Does she appreciate the motivational quotes and words of wisdom scrawled on the walls by the fighters who train here, and the ones who came before us?
“All of these places smell the same,” she remarks, dropping her bag and bending to remove those sexy shoes.
I kick off my sneakers and pad onto the mats. “Been in a few, have you?” I struggle to picture it.
“Enough.”
It’s a non-answer. I don’t like that, but given how forthcoming I’ve been, I can’t blame her. “Sit on one of those chairs over there.” I wave my hand at them. “Hope you brought something to do.”
“I’ll keep myself occupied.”
Grabbing my wraps from where they’re airing out, I watch my brothers Gabe Mendoza and Devon Green sparring in the octagon as Seth stands below and shouts instructions. As usual, Devon is going a million miles an hour with a seemingly endless tank of gas, and Gabe is quietly countering and letting him wear himself out. A timer beeps and they slap each other on the back and leap out for a drink break.
