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Chapter 16
Lincoln swerved off the narrow gravel road toward what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Old windows lined the sides of the building, and graffiti marred several areas of the concrete. Empty fields surrounded the lot. The interstate snaked across the horizon, which was turning smoke-gray with a combination of dusk and encroaching rainclouds.
A few cars were parked beside the building. Grabbing his duffle bag, he strode to the entrance. He’d been at loose ends since leaving Grace’s house that morning, unable to work or even think of anything excepther.
I would like to know what the fuss is all about.
Christ. He’d kill to be the one to show her. The taste and scent of her was embedded in his blood. He could still hear her breathy moans, feel her body arching against his as she came apart under his touch.
He was ticked off that he couldn’t compartmentalize her offer into a neat little box. Short-term sex. He’d done it plenty of times before with other women. He just couldn’t put Grace in that same category, not even if she claimed it for herself.
Though she’d been nonchalant about the reasons why she was still a virgin, there was more to that story. Grace’s busy schedule and family aside, Lincoln sensed the other reasons why she’d never gotten serious with a guy before.
It had nothing to do with the “right lightning” or her missing a chance. It was that no man could complement her combination of softness, steel, and genuine heart. She knew it, even if it was on a subconscious level, so she’d never let anyone get too close to her.
And Lincoln would bet his life that countless men had tried.
That was also why she’d askedhimto be the one to show her what the “fuss” was about. Aside from trust, he was leaving soon. They’d have a good time—no question about that—and then part ways. Nice and fucking tidy.
Why the hell was that bothering him so much? She’d been right—he walked away from people all the time. But walking away from Grace…he suspected that was going to be brutal. His self-preservation instinct was kicking in.
Too bad it hadn’t kicked in before his self-control had snapped last night. Now he’d never be able to stop thinking of her. Not even after he left.
Suppressing a groan, he shoved open the door and went into the vast, open space. The whirr of industrial fans circulated the air. The smells of sweat, leather, and exertion filled his nose. Half a dozen men were pummeling the heavy bags, grunting and swearing, and two others were sparring in the ring. A couple of trainers shouted instructions.
Lincoln checked in with a guy at the front desk, who gave him a quick tour.
“You looking to spar?” the guy asked.
“Yeah, if I can.”
He glanced at the list on the desk. “I’ll see who’s here and up for it.”
Lincoln left his bag in a locker and went out to warm up. After hours of dicking around trying to find something to do in town, he’d texted Jake Ryan asking about a good place to work out. Jake had given him directions to the nondescript boxing gym, which was exactly what Lincoln needed. He planned to work out to the point of exhaustion so he’d be too tired to think about Grace.
He doubted it would work, but he’d try his damnedest.
After a run on the track circling the upper balcony, he worked out with dumbbells, then wrapped his hands and started drills on the speed bag.
Though he’d been through plenty of rehab and training, his left arm and shoulder still hadn’t regained full strength. Sometimes he forgot about it, but he couldn’t ignore the persistent weakness when his muscles refused to do what he wanted them to.
“Still here, huh?”
Lincoln stopped, wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead. Sam stood a short distance away, his gloves dangling from one hand.
“Man, you’re just waiting for me to bail, aren’t you?” Lincoln stopped the speed bag from moving.
His brother shrugged. “The only reason you’re staying is because you can’t stand the thought of losing.”
“The only reason you keep giving me shit is because you can’t stand the thought of me winning. Again.”
Sam gave a humorless laugh. “Terry says you want to spar.”
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t know you still boxed.”
“Just as a workout.”
