By the time I reached the gym, a boxy brick building stuck in the middle of a wide parking lot, I was cutting it close. Class started in fifteen minutes.
“Fuck.” Could I skip my smoothie? Hell no. My trainer, Hawthorn, had calculated my protein intake when I’d requested he work with me on my diet, and I didn’t want to mess it all up for him. He would never forgive me. We’d worked hard to set up a nutrition plan tailored to my training regimen. Plus, I had a point to prove to the QB. Fuck him. I was going to get big enough to lift a car.
I could sneak into the back of the lecture hall and hopefully the prof wouldn’t see me. Mind made up, I rushed into Fitness Yums, the gym bar, as fast as I could. The regular employee, Mikayla, was behind the counter, and her slim face lit up when she saw me barrel through the door.
“KC, hi!” Her smile was blinding. If it’d been any other day, I would’ve stopped to talk to her, mention how cute her pink-and-white striped dress was, even though I was positive it wasn’t the correct uniform.
“Hey, Micki. Sorry, I’m late for class. Do you think you could make my usual morning smoothie?” I nearly crashed to a stopin front of the counter, my chest heaving because I’d run from my Jeep. My thighs were already burning because of my early morning exercise.
“Of course.” She shot around to the counter behind her and went to work, and all I could do was watch her desperately while I kept checking the time on my phone screen.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Damn it. I was never late. What happened this morning?
The recipe for the smoothie Micki was making had been sent to the gym bar directly by Hawthorn in an attempt to help me juggle classes with my nutrition. The drink was filled with whey isolate protein, chocolate milk, peanut butter, avocado, and olive oil, which sounded disgusting but was delicious. A perfect combination that gave me the carbs and protein to keep up with my intense routine. I had to keep my weight up, which was a pain in the ass with how much we were going into overdrive on the field.
Micki spun on her heels, her blond ponytail swinging with the motion, and presented me with the plastic cup, her grin proud. “Record time.”
I laughed when she shoved it at me and waved to the door. “I need to pay.”
“Come back later, after class.Go!Weeman will give you hell if you’re a minute late. Trust me. I had him last year.” She winced. “I’m still traumatized.”
I leaned over the counter to plop a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best. I’ll be back later.”
She giggled as I hurried out the door, but I didn’t get far. I crashed into a strong chest. I huffed out a gasp of shock as I fell back a few steps, my smoothie crushed between me and theother man, the plastic lid flying off when the contents exploded out the top. Smoothie went everywhere, a mess that splashed across my white T-shirt and down my Nike shorts.
“Fuck.” I glanced up at the man I’d run into, opening my mouth to apologize profusely, but the words caught in my throat.
Shit, he wastall. I didn’t have to look up often.
I’d seen a lot of hot guys in my life, ones who made me question whether they were human or gods, but this stranger took the cake and ate the entire fucking thing. He was a statement piece that belonged in an art museum, not standing on the sidewalk with boring people like me.
“Damn. I’m so sorry.” The tattooed deity brushed his palms down my chest, attempting to wipe the smoothie off my tight shirt, face twisted in apology.
My nips hardened under the caress and I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t force out any words.
“I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he said.
Words still escaped me or maybe I never knew how to speak in the first place. My tongue grew heavy and every time I opened my mouth, nothing came out.
He shook off his hands and glanced down at my face.
Yeah, he was taller than me by at least a few inches.Fucking hell.My mouth went dry.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Was I? No. Could I tell him that? No. My lips wouldn’t cooperate and form words. Instead, my rebellious gaze wandered over his neck and down his bare arms, taking in the black ink that wove across every inch of his skin in flawless designs that hammered in the point that he belonged in a gallery. A statue of a woman with a crack across her cheek. A snake with its tongue out curling around a maze. Geometrical designs. A phoenix that stretched up across his right bicep. They were all so fucking beautiful. A tattooed woman’s face smolderedat me from his throat, above a heavy silver chain held closed with a lock. My attention slid to his hands on my chest, where he scraped away more of the thick smoothie. His fingers were decorated with silver rings that matched his nose piercing and earrings.
I couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to.
“Can I make this up to you?” He had an accent, not much, but something that wasn’t from New York. I couldn’t pinpoint which part of the country he was from. “I’m Ren.”
