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Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I groan, running a hand through my hair.
“She fucking showed up with a good-looking professional boxer.”
Trey blinks, opening his beer and taking a drink. “Who did?”
“Thelma.”
“She knows a professional boxer? Which one?”
“Not that kind of professional boxer. Just someone who has had training. Good training.”
“And that’s driven you to drink…why?”
“Because I told her I wasn’t interested in anything more than hooking up three days ago, and she shows up for her next session with a fucking live-in guy in tow!”
Trey’s eyebrows shoot up as he whistles low. “That’s a bit of an extreme reaction. For sure. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I was talking to her in the gym, telling her I thought we should cool things off, when this joker came up to us, asking about her private classes. She introduced him and said he wanted to join our sessions. When I signed him up as a member, he gave her damn address. I’ve been to her condo, there are only two bedrooms, and the second one wasn’t occupied when I was there.”
Trey blinks at me silently until he throws his head back, roaring with laughter. What the hell? This isn’t a fucking laughing matter. This is serious. I glower at him until he manages to get himself under control. Shrugging, he takes a swig of beer, leaning against the doorframe and raising his eyebrows.
“Did it ever occur to you that he might be a friend who wanted to sign up, and when you told her you wanted to cool things down, she tried to make you jealous?”
I stare at him in shock. Shit. No. That hadn’t occurred to me at all. Jesus. If that’s what Thelma was doing, it worked.
“I need to go.”
Trey snorts, nodding slowly. “Yeah, you need to talk to the woman and figure out what you want with her.”
Flipping him off, I drop my beer can into the trash, striding out of his apartment and flagging a taxi to take me downtown.
THELMA
“How long have you been sleeping with your boxing trainer?”
My cheeks flame as I turn away from the window where I am staring at the Bay. Grady is standing at the end of the hallway, dressed in his suit again, his hands in his pockets, watching me.
How does he know that? Jimmy and I acted normal during that session and the stupid sign-up process. There’s no way he could know that we have been sleeping together. He’s waiting for me to respond, his eyebrows slowly raising, quickly becoming my least favorite look.
“I...we.... that’s none of your business.” My blustering isn’t a very good denial. A grin stretches across Grady’s face.
“Now I know why you didn’t want me in the lesson.”
“Oh, shut up.”
He grins even more widely as I stomp through the living room and into the kitchen. I open the fridge more forcefully than necessary, pulling out a bottle of wine and pouring a healthy amount into a glass before making a salad for dinner.
Grady makes his own food. Well, he eats pre-prepared meals that he has filled half my fridge with, and he never eats at the same time as me. I don’t know if that’s a bodyguard or a Grady thing. It could be because my condo is small, so it’s not like I have a separate living area for my bodyguard to retreat to when he doesn’t need to watch over me.
I contemplated offering him my small office, but that’s where I keep all my files, and I don’t have anywhere else to put them while he’s living in the spare bedroom.
I have no idea if he’s still grinning at me because I refuse to lift my head, studiously cutting my vegetables with obnoxious precision. Maybe I should eat quickly and go into my bedroom. I could take a soak in the tub and call Holly. She might know what the hell is going on with Jimmy and how Grady might have figured it out so quickly that we’re sleeping together.
Picking up my bowl, I glance up in surprise as the doorbell rings. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and they didn’t buzz up, so the doorman must have let them in downstairs. Maybe it’s Pete or the twins. Perhaps they’ve brought food. I could eat something other than my boring, perfectly prepared salad.
Grady quickly shoves off the couch, where he had been staring at the fireplace, and moves to check the door. I hover at the countertop, knowing he’d scold me if I put myself in view of the guest before he could check them out. I hope he knows what my cousins look like. They wouldn’t appreciate being told to go away.
From this angle, I can only see his back as he looks through the peephole, snorting and opening the door. That’s a weird reaction to a visitor.
