“Yeah, that would be a big help. There’s so much that needs to be done before tonight anyway.”
He refills his coffee cup and heads to the back door, where the delivery guy drops off all the packages. The pile was taller than he was at the beginning of the week. It’s almost gone now.
Having Arlo around has been a huge time-saver for me. I’m finally able to handle my backlog of paperwork and the bookkeeping. I’m saving that for last because I absolutely hate it. People need to get paid today, though, so I’m making myself handle it first.
Walking out of my office a few hours later, I’m hit with the clamor that is Friday afternoons. Everyone is pumped for tonight—the laughter, the trash talk—it’s much louder than usual.
I do my afternoon loop, chat with all my fighters, acknowledging the gym regulars, and stopping to check in with the trainers about injuries.
Not everyone who uses my gym is a fighter. Some guys just like the tough workout, or the proximity to real fighters. If they pay their gym fees and follow the rules, it doesn’t bother me. They take one step out of line, though, and they’re gone. That kind of bullshit isn’t happening in my space. This gym is a safe place for queer fighters, I’ve made sure of that.
“Hey T. Got a sec?” Diesel flags me down on my way to the break room.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I checked the cut kits. We need to do some restocking before tonight.”
“Thanks, D. I’ll handle it.”
I make a list of what’s needed and take it with me to storage, fully prepared to spend the next hour trying to find everything.
When I walk in, however, I’m more than pleasantly surprised. Holy crap! It’s been entirely reorganized. I can actually move around without tripping on something. I examine the medical supply shelf closely. Are those … labels? I inspect each one, and sure enough, everything is sorted into categories and labeled. Hell, I didn’t even know I owned a label maker.
Arlo. It has to be. I knew he’d been spending a lot of time back here, but I figured it was just because this place was a disaster. Turns out I was right, but he was doing much more than unloading boxes.
I load up the supplies I need, careful not to disturb his impressive display of order. It hits me. He’s got these medical supplies arranged by expiration date. Jesus, he’s good.
Carrying the supplies back out to the gym, I do a quick scan for my newest employee. He’s next to the back door, breaking down boxes and stacking them for recycling.
He stops for a minute to take a drink from his water bottle, his face flushed and shiny with sweat. The door is open, sunlight streaming in, blond highlights brightening his mahogany hair. It’s messy and disheveled as if he’d just gotten out of bed. That thought zings through me with unexpected heat.
He looks my way, eyes wide at my scrutiny, before he schools his features into a look of indifference. I wave him over. I want him to learn to stock the cut kits. He’s clearly got a talent for organization.
It’s definitely not because I want to be close to him.
“What do ya need, boss?”
“Saw the storage area.”
He tenses up, shoulders tightening as his jaw clenches. I hate it. He’s already prepared for something bad to happen. It makes me want to go all out on the heavy bag.
“Yeah?” His voice is muted.
“Smart.” I meet his eyes with mine, steady with approval. “Gonna make things a hell of a lot easier.”
My breath catches at the smile that lights up his face, emphasizing his disturbingly cute dimple.
I have an overwhelming urge to keep making him smile like that, because I’m seeing the person underneath all the emotional weight he’s carrying. I realize I want more than anything to be someone who doesn’t make him shrink. But I’m his boss, so I can’t, but my hand reaches out before I can stop it, gripping his shoulder. His skin is hot against my palm, but so soft. His breath quickens.
“Good job.” Is all I can get out, even though there is so much more I wish I could say.
His face flushes. He’s all pink cheeks and bright eyes.
I clear my throat and pull myself together.
“Why don’t you leave those boxes for now and I’ll show you the cut kits. Think you can handle keeping them stocked from now on?”
His smile fades, but he doesn’t look like he wants to disappear anymore. That’s a win in my book.
