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“Dude, you can’t wear jeans to train,” he says.
Holding out my hand, I shrug. “I wasn’t expecting to get a job as a trainer.”
He nods his pale head and disappears for a moment before returning with a pair of black nylon pants and a tank. “Andy said these would incentivize me. I don’t know what that means, but they don’t fit. You can have them.”
Taking the workout clothes from him, I hold up the pants. “Thanks,” I say, looking down. “I actually think they’re my size.”
“Of course they are. You’re made for this stuff.”
I step into the men’s locker room and quickly replace my jeans and tee with the more gym-appropriate attire.
“Hey,” Jim says, tossing a pair of training gloves at me. “See what you can do with that boxing equipment.”
Shaking my head, I stuff the thin trainers in my back pocket and walk back to the weight room. It’s early, and only one guy is in the place. I nod, and he proceeds to get on the treadmill and start jogging. For now it looks like I’m on my own killing time.
Nothing else to do, I pull the gloves from my back pocket, pull them on, and hit the heavy bag. Left, right, left-right-left.
I clip the heavy canvass, stepping back and in, feeling the soothing burn of energy in my muscles. I’ve always loved to fight. It’s all I ever wanted to do until that night. Right, left, right-left-right.
/> I exhale a big breath and wipe the sweat off my brow with my cuff. I go in for another, longer round of punching when I see in my peripheral vision two people have entered the weight room. Time to do my job.
Lowering my fists, I turn and take a surprised step back. Mercy is in the middle of the room gorgeous as ever, her shining blue eyes round.
“Mercy,” I say, stepping forward.
She walks straight to me, but she isn’t smiling. She seems angry, although I can’t imagine why. She’s dressed in a black jog bra and yoga pants, her lined torso exposed. She’s so fucking hot, I can’t help the flood of pornographic images flickering through my mind. It’s only been two days since I had her all over me.
“What are you doing here?” her voice is a soft growl.
Wasn’t expecting that. I haven’t seen her since our night in heaven, and I’m pretty confident I left her one satisfied customer. I decide to be honest and see if I can figure out what the hell’s going on.
“I decided to stay.”
“Well, if this is about me, you’re wasting your time.”
“Actually, my decision had nothing to do with you.” My voice is low, but it’s not a whisper. Now I’m getting annoyed.
“Stay away from me.”
My brows shoot up, and it’s official. I’m pissed. “Don’t worry, princess. You’ve got all the space you need.”
Her eyes flash, and she turns on her heel stalking back to where a pale, mousy girl is waiting. I turn back to the bag and resume punching. My strikes are a bit more forceful, but I’m doing my best to keep the anger off my face.
The last time I saw Mercy, she was thanking me for blowing her mind. No idea what changed between now and then, but it isn’t the first time I’ve encountered a psycho female.
The description turns in my stomach. It doesn’t fit. I’ve tasted Mercy, and she isn’t crazy. She tasted good, strong and focused. My thoughts drift to last night and my experience in the forest. Something isn’t right in this town.
A client enters the weight room looking for a trainer. He’s an older man, and what he really wants is a spotter. Still, I follow him around, giving him tips and helping him move up a plate on his bench pressing. His name is Seth, and he’s a regular, salt-of-the-earth Midwestern type.
“How long you been in town?” he asks between sets.
“Only a few days,” I say, wrapping the gym towel around my hand as I wait for him to recover.
“Jim says you’re from Hawaii?” He says the word like How are Ya.
“Not originally.” I move to the head of the bench as he lies back and puts his hands in place. I give the bar a lift and steady it as he begins his final set. “I grew up in New Jersey, but my family is originally from Molokai.”
“Never heard of that.” He grunts as he exhales.
