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Yeah, that’s a total lie.
“Marissa?” he asks, drawing my eyes back up from his thighs to his handsome – and slightly smug – face.
“What?” I ask, digging deep in my memory bank for any recollection of what he may have been saying moments before my eyes took their southern detour down his incredible body.
Rhenn lifts the corner of his mouth in an obvious smirk. Why the hell does it look so hot on him when he does that? “I asked what class you ladies just took.”
“Death by Spinning,” I reply, recalling in this exact moment how homely my appearance has to be.
“She’s whining,” Harper adds, taking a drink from her water bottle. “She’s such a physical fitness baby.”
“You should take one of my classes,” he says casually, crossing his arms in a manner that only highlights the veins and muscles in his impeccable forearms.
“Classes? What kind of classes?” I ask, racking my brain to think of any mention of him being a physical fitness instructor. Though, that would make sense, considering his body is a work of art that should be displayed in a museum – you know, right next to Michelangelo’s David or Myron’s Discobolus.
“Karate instructor, actually. I’m a third degree black belt.” And just like that, my ovaries exploded.
“Karate? Bad ass, Cowboy. I’ll have to call you Kick-ass Cowboy, now,” Harper says, drawing a laugh from the man beside me.
“So, what do you say, Marissa? You wanna come take a class?”
“I’m not sure that would be wise,” I state plainly, knowing anything with coordination isn’t my strong suit.
“Marissa has zero coordination, my friend. She’d probably kick you in the balls and punch you in the eye,” my horrible sister says, bringing life to my inner thoughts and deepening my humiliation.
“It’s true,” I add, hating the way my cheeks burn.
“If I can handle a dozen teenagers, I think I can handle one pint-sized gorgeous woman,” Rhenn croons, making my insides twist and butterflies take flight in my belly. “But just to be safe, I’ll wear a cup,” he whispers, covering his groin with both hands.
Both hands.
As in, it takes two to completely cover it.
That means…
Well, you know.
I can’t stop staring.
“You should teach her. I’m sure she’d love to lay you down on a mat and pour it to you, Kick-ass Cowboy,” Harper says, smiling widely and making me wish I was the only girl. Not the first time I’ve wished on that particular star in my short twenty-seven years on this earth, but it’s the first time I’ve ever thought about doing the job myself.
My mouth just hangs open – in a totally unladylike fashion – as I watch my horrible sister make plans with Rhenn to teach me karate. Or self-defense, as it so happens to be. “It’s a beginner’s class, so I think she can manage,” Rhenn replies.
“Wait, you’re serious?” I ask, glancing between my sister and the gym hottie – who just so happens to be our subcontractor and man I’ve secretly fantasized about no less than…well, every night this last week.
“I never joke around about karate, Angel,” he replies with a smile.
“Rhenn! You’re still here!” Staci, the masochist spin instructor says, sliding right in between myself and Rhenn, rubbing her massive, protruding double D’s across his arm and chest as she goes.
“I’m still here,” he says with a wide smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Will we be seeing you again soon? Like tomorrow?” she coos, batting her overly blackened eyelashes and all but pressing her boobs against his chest once more.
“Probably not tomorrow,” Rhenn says casually, yet there’s a definite flirty tone in the way he says it. It’s like he can’t help it.
And he probably can’t.
“Shoot,” she whines, drawing out that single word as if it has fourteen syllables. “I was hoping we could hang. You know, together. Alone.”
