Is it because we’re so close in age that it’s like hanging out with Shawn? Because I get to witness their brotherly arguments? Or because I don’t mind staring at Rip’s face every day, with his broad shoulders, tattooed body, and his dirty blonde mullet that curls at the end.
I’ve been with both girls and guys before Sylvie, but after her, I haven’t even felt mere attraction to anyone. Yet when I thought Rip was going to kiss me, my heart skipped a beat. Why did I like the thought of that so much?
What is it about him that keeps my mind curious and my body responding?
“Maybe they’re the moles.”
My head snaps his way. “Rip and Thomas?”
Shawn nods. “Think about it. They show up, the cops get tipped off, now we’ve got a snitch, and Ryland’s taken. Two young and attractive social media marketers. Who would ever suspect them?”
I’m not an idiot. The thought has crossed my mind of how ironic it is that just as Rip and Thomas show up, everything goes sideways. Still, the Crown checks everyone out super thoroughly before hiring them for the resort, and the Wrights’ backgrounds came up clean. A coincidence doesn’t make him a criminal mastermind infiltrating the enemy.
Hmm.
“I’ll keep an eye on them.”
“Good. I’ll see what information I can get from others in the base.” With a slap of the bench, Shawn stands, and a drip of sweat falls from his nose. “My shift starts in an hour, so I’ve gotta go. But don’t worry, man, we’ll find who it is and show Xavier that you’re back in the swing of things.”
I don’t even care about proving anything to my dad; I want to break the neck of whoever thought it wise to go against my family. I’ll let a lot of things slide, but never betrayal.
Shawn may be done exercising, but I’m not. I’ve been here since eight in the morning. It’s now twelve-thirty, and all I’ve had is water to get me through the long hours. I couldn’t be bothered to eat breakfast before, afraid that by the time I finished, I would have lost the spark of motivation to get back into my old habits.
I hop on the treadmill, crank it to speed four, and my legs feel like lead with every step—I’m definitely at my limit. I’ll rest up after this since I’ve got some paperwork and logistics for Crowncrest to sort out.
“You work out?”
Despite the music blasting in my ears, I hear the familiar voice. Rip catches my eye, wearing a white tank top and shortsthat show off his thighs, and a condescending smirk I want to smack off his face.
I pull my right AirPod out because I know he’ll have more to say, then give a sharp nod.
“Here?” Rip eyes the place like it’s dirt underneath his shoe, not nearly good enough. “Shouldn’t a prince like yourself have his own gym?”
“Sometimes, even royalty have to use commoners’ items,” I say.
“Of course. Mind if I work out with you?”
Struggling to keep the pace of my jog, I shrug. If by working out with me he means next to me, then he can go for it. This is a community space, after all.
Rip gets on the treadmill and sets his speed to match mine, and I’m not sure if it was by chance or if he’s trying to compete with me. I don’t care to get into petty competitions, unnecessary competitions, so I keep my focus on my own pace.
Until I’m ready to up my speed. Now I’m at a seven, and Rip immediately copies me. I give him a pointed look, but all he does is smirk in response, so I turn away. I’m not about to play this ridiculous game with him.
We run beside each other in the empty gym for twenty minutes. I told myself I’d stay an hour, but if I stretch it any further, I won’t be able to face doing this again tomorrow. So, for the last bit, I push the speed to eight, putting me at a full-blown sprint.
It’s good to know I haven’t lostallof my athletic ability in the past year, but old me would have barely broken a true sweat by now. He’d be ready to go for another hour at least. Embarrassing.
Against my better judgment, I peek at Rip. His eyes trail up and down my body, so focused on me, I worry he’ll trip and fall flat on his ass. Is he trying to intimidate me?
My thoughts come to an abrupt stop when black spots invade my vision. Another dizzy spell hits me like a ton of bricks, and I’m stumbling off the treadmill, barely managing to grip the handle before I crash to the floor.
A firm hand grips my shoulder, steadying me. “You trying to pass out on me, or what?”
I shrug his hand off me as I move to the bench and cradle my face in my hands as I let the dizziness pass. When I look up minutes later, Rip is sitting beside me. He’s a noticeable distance away, but close enough to hand me my water. Silently, I take it, draining the last contents of the bottle in seconds.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“Don’t worry about it.”
