Текст книги "Cardinal"

Chapter Four

After I put on some clothes, I yank open the bedroom door to see if my uninvited guest is still around. He’s not in the hallway, so I venture out to search the rest of the apartment. When there’s no sign of him in the living room or the kitchen, I check Pete’s room. I also look out on the balcony, just in case.

He’s disappeared.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, I wait for my pulse to slow. I can’t believe that idiot would just waltz in here like he owned the joint!  Has he ever heard of knocking?  Speaking of, I wonder if Pete forgot to lock the front door. I push myself off the couch to check. It’s secure.

Creeper must have a key, unless he’s Spiderman. Maybe he did come in through the balcony. I left the sliding door open.

Minutes later, my brother returns. I hear the deadbolt drop, then watch him open the door with his foot. One hand holds plastic bags while the other holds keys. His eyes dart around the room. “What happened?”

I walk toward him and reach for the bags. “One of your friends scared the shit out of me.”

He looks confused. “Who?”

“How am I supposed to know?  He was tall and had tattoos down one arm.”

“That’s Latson.” Pete reaches for his back pocket and grabs his vibrating phone. He reads the message and types out a response. “I told him he could stop by to pick up my beer pong table for tonight.”

“You have a beer pong table?”

“Yeah. It’s in your room. Jules probably put it in the closet.”

I carry Pete’s purchases into the kitchen and set them on the counter. “Well, can you tell him you have company?  I don’t appreciate strangers staring at me in my underwear.”

“Wait.” Pete sets his phone next to the groceries. “Why did you answer the door in your underwear?”

“I didn’t. I was getting dressed, I turned around, and there he was. How many of your friends have keys to this place?”

My brother frowns. “Only one.” He grabs his phone and sends another message.

I open a bag and take out a package of chicken breasts. Beneath that is a package of bacon and under that is a steak. I was right about the protein. The next bag holds a bunch of bananas, two avocados, an onion, and some baby carrots. I scowl. “Where’s the junk food?”

“Don’t worry,” Pete says. He peruses what he bought. “Here.” He flips what looks like a granola bar at me.

“What is this?” I read the label. It’s a dark chocolate and sea salt Mojo Bar made by the same people that make Cliff energy bars. I hold it by the end of the wrapper. “This is not junk food. I need you to tell me where the store is. I cannot survive on this stuff.”

Pete rolls his eyes and reaches into another bag. He produces two Hostess apple pies. “I didn’t forget your favorite.”

“Yes!”  My face lights up. I snag the pastries from his hand, tear one package open, and take a big bite. My mouth is filled with sugary cinnamon goodness.

“Geez.” Pete shakes his head.

“I haven’t had anything to eat yet,” I mumble.

Pete’s phone buzzes and he reads the message. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to take the table to Latson.”

I nod as I chew and continue to remove food from the grocery bags. I’m filling the refrigerator when my brother’s cell goes off again. He left it on the counter and, curious, I glance at the screen. What I read makes me smirk. It’s Pete’s text thread with Latson.

L: Stopped by your place. Who’s your friend?

P: My sister.

Then, a few minutes later:

P: She told me what happened. You’re a dick.

L: Hey. I didn’t know she was your sister. She’s hot.

P: Don’t even think about it asshole.

Then:

L: I still need the table.

P: Be there in a sec.

Hmm. Latson thinks I’m hot?  I start to feel smug until my mind jumps to Derek, to the last guy who said that about me. Bastard.

I hope he realizes what he lost.

~~~~

“Will this work?”

Juliana looks me over. “Turn around.”

I comply. I’ve paired my black skinny jeans with a hot pink tank top for tonight’s party. It’s layered down the front and has a sheer mesh back.

“Definitely,” she says when I complete my circle. “I have the perfect shoes for you.” She walks over to a duffle bag. “I didn’t know what you would need, so I brought a few things. I hope you can wear a size seven.”

“That’s small,” I say. “I usually wear an eight.”

She produces a pair of open-toed, black strappy heels. “Well, give them a try. I think they’re super cute.”

They are cute. I sit down on the edge of the bed and take the shoes from her. To my surprise, my foot fits. Sure, my toes hang off the end, but if I scoot my heel back they’re almost perfect. Since this party is in Latson’s apartment, I decide to suffer for fashion. We’ll probably be sitting most of the night anyway.

“Thanks,” I say. “I didn’t think to bring dressy shoes. Without these I’d be stuck with my flats.”

Juliana smiles. “That’s what friends are for.”

We head to the bathroom to put the finishing touches on our appearance. I look at our reflections in the mirror. With these shoes on, I tower over Jules. “I’m a giant next to you,” I laugh.

She winds a section of her auburn hair around a curling iron and frowns. “I’m used to it. Everyone is taller than me.”

I apply some mascara to my lashes.

“Have you ever thought of using blue eye shadow?” she asks. “It would really make your eyes pop.”

I stare at my pale baby blues. “No. I think it’s too ‘80’s.”

“Here.” She sets the curling iron aside and grabs my hand. She lowers the toilet lid and makes me sit. “Let me play. If you don’t like it you can take it off.”

I decide to let her experiment. I don’t know any of the people going to this party and the chances of seeing them again are small. If I end up looking like Debbie Harry it will be okay. Plus, it feels nice to do girly things. Not that I don’t wear skirts and paint my nails, but I haven’t spent time with a girlfriend in forever. Most of my close friends moved away after high school, with the exception of Melanie. I talk to her from time to time, but it’s usually online. We don’t hang out often because she has a little one and another on the way.

Juliana paints my closed eyelids. “So,” she says. “I heard you met Latson today.”

I grimace. “You could call it that.”

“Stop scrunching,” she chastises. “Pete told me he scared you.”

“Um, yeah. Creeper.”

“You think he’s creepy?”

“Wouldn’t you?  I thought I was alone and I wasn’t. I turn around in the middle of my stripper routine and he says ‘Don’t scream’. Isn’t that what rapists say?”

She giggles. “Your what routine?”

“I was kinda dancing in my underwear. There was loud music playing in the apartment above this one.” I open one eye. “Don’t tell Pete. I left out the dancing part.”

She laughs. “My lips are sealed. No wonder Latson thinks you’re hot.”

“What?” I act surprised. I won’t confess to reading my brother’s text messages.

“Pete told me,” she says. “He’s not happy about it.”

“Why?  Is Latson bad news?”

“Not at all.” I hear her put something down, then feel her finger smudge her work. “He’s got a little money, he’s eligible, and you can bounce a quarter off his ass.”

I snort. “Have you tried?”

“No.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “You can’t tell me you didn’t like what you saw.”

“I didn’t.” It’s the truth. “I was too worried about being attacked. I threw some socks at him and slammed the door in his face.”

She laughs again. “Really?  I wish I could have seen that. Doors tend to stay open for Latson.”

I bet. Curious, I ask, “Is that his real name?”

“It’s his last name.”

“What’s his first?”

“He only shares that information with a privileged few.” I feel her back away. “All right. Open your eyes.”

I raise my lids and squint at the light. “How does it look?”

“I think it looks great.”

Standing, I face the mirror. The smoky hue surrounding my eyes makes them look twice their size. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“You pick up a thing or two working at a salon.” She grabs the curling iron again. “If you’re thinking about doing something new with your hair –”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs. “But, I’m a stylist. If you want to take advantage, let me know.”

I pull my straightened dark brown locks over one shoulder. I have a lot of changes going on in my life right now. I think I’ll keep my hair the way it is.

I keep Juliana company in the bathroom while she finishes up. During the process, loud music starts to play above us.

“See?  There.” I point up. “That’s what I was talking about. How do you and Pete put up with the noise?”

“We’re usually at my place. Besides, the owner tends to warn us when he’s having parties.”

I groan. “It’s coming from Latson’s?”

She nods.

“I was dancing to his music earlier?”

She nods again.

That’s not awkward or anything.

Finally, she’s ready to go. We emerge from the bathroom to find my brother sprawled out on the couch.

“It’s about time.” He raises the remote and turns off the T.V. “I was going to leave without you.” He stands as I turn to grab my purse off the table. “Jen. Where is the back of your shirt?”

I look over my shoulder. “It’s right here.”

He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Do you want her to wear a turtleneck?” Juliana asks.

“No. It’s just…”

I set my hands on my hips. “It’s just what?”

“Haven’t you shown enough skin today?”

I scowl. “It wasn’t intentional.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“Can we get out of here?” I ask. “There’s a party going on and I need a drink.”

“I second that.” Juliana loops her arm through mine.

The three of us leave the apartment and take the stairs up one floor. When we get to the top, I see a hallway similar to Pete’s. Three apartment doors span one wall while, opposite of my brother’s floor, the other is wall is empty. I assume this is how Latson gets away with loud parties. No one lives across from him. He must warn his neighbors on either side like he warns Jules and Pete. I can’t imagine they would be happy with a bunch of people over all the time.

Juliana’s arm remains entwined with mine and I let her pull me toward the door that’s propped open. When we step over the threshold, my jaw drops. I expected a replica of Pete’s place. This looks nothing like the apartment my brother rents.

Juliana grabs my attention. “Nice, huh?”

I nod. “Is it always like this?”

“Do you mean crowded?”

“No. Big.”

She smiles. “Latson owns all the apartments on this floor. He knocked down the walls in between to create a suite.”

He renovated an entire floor?  I look around the room. He has enough money to do that but he can’t he afford his own beer pong table?

Speaking of, the game is in full swing to my right. Behind the two teams bouncing ping pong balls back and forth I see the kitchen, which is separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. There must be an island past that, because people have congregated there. In front of me is a living area with a sunken center; you have to walk down two steps to get to the main floor. Couches and chairs have been pushed to the perimeter and a DJ is set up at the far end near the sliding balcony doors. As Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way” morphs into Rihanna’s “Umbrella”, my eyes continue to roam. A fireplace is tucked away in a corner a few feet from a mounted flat screen and then, further to my left, I see a hallway.

“Pete!”

I turn to see a guy clap my brother on his shoulder.

“Hey, Carter.”

“Juullles.” He draws out Juliana’s name, then kisses her on the temple. He pretends to whisper in her ear. “When are you going to dump this loser and go out with me?”

She laughs. “Carter, this is Pete’s sister, Jen. Jen, meet persistent Carter.”

Carter looks at me, intrigued.

“Hi,” I offer.

He flashes a white smile to match his surfer boy looks. “Hello.” He takes a step toward me, then hollers over his shoulder. “Felix!”

I see a guy with tan skin grab his red party cup and leave the side of the beer pong table. He stands beside Carter. “What’s up?”

Carter gestures toward me. “Did you know Pete had a sister?”

Felix looks me over and one side of his mouth quirks up. “No.” He reaches for my hand. “Mucho gusto.”

The tone of his voice makes me blush. Is he really Spanish or is he pretending?  Lucky for me I remember details – and Ms. Ciccone’s high school class.

“El gusto es mio,” I say and bat my eyelashes.   There’s no harm in having a little fun.

Felix looks impressed. Still holding my hand, he steps closer. “Quiero hacer el amor contigo.”

I burst out laughing. “Maybe another time.”

“Okay!”  Pete puts both his hands on my shoulders and steers me away from his friends. He pushes me toward the kitchen while telling them, “That’s enough.”

“Hey!” I pout.

“We’ve been here two minutes,” he grumbles.

Pete lets go of my shoulders when we make it into the kitchen. As he reaches for a cup, I ask, “Do your friends always ask random girls to make love?”

“Just Felix,” he answers. “And, yes, that line has worked way too many times.”

Pete gives me the cup in his hands, then passes one to Jules. He gestures toward the counter. “Pick your poison.”

I walk over to scan the selections. Every type of liquor is here, from high-end to low-brow. Some bottles are unopened and brand new, while others are half-full or near empty. I decide to make a Kamikaze, since a bottle of Grey Goose is right in front of me. I eyeball two shots of vodka, add the triple sec and the lime juice, then take a drink.

So. Good.

Juliana tugs my arm. “We have to dance!”

I look at her over the edge of my cup. “We do?”

She nods. “Listen.”

I take another drink. The song is “Kiss” by Prince. I agree. “We so have to dance.”

We leave my brother in the kitchen and head to the makeshift dance floor. Once my feet hit the carpet I’m reminded that my shoes are too small. I can feel the fabric under my toes because they hang off the end. Regardless, I toss my purse on a nearby couch and follow Jules to stand among the other girls dancing. We sing the lyrics in our high-pitched Prince voices, stand back to back and rub up against one another, then turn around to drink and dance at the same time. When the song ends, my Kamikaze is gone.

“Need another?”

The voice in my ear sends a shiver down my spine. The tone is rich and smooth, and my eyes jump to Juliana’s. Judging from her expression, I know who is standing behind me.

Slowly, I turn and face Latson. He’s wearing a plain white tee and dark jeans. The tattoos that run down his right arm I recognize. It’s the way his shirt pulls across his chest and the pools of melted chocolate for eyes that I don’t recall. His eyelashes rival my own in length, and his hair is styled in the front but cut short on the sides.

Hello.

Despite his looks, he is still the guy that was watching me dance in my skivvies. I clip my words. “I can get my own drink. But thank you.”

He gives me half a smile, which reveals a dimple. “Can you now?”

Holy perfect mouth. “Yes. I’m a bartender.”

He raises one eyebrow, then holds his hand out toward the kitchen. “Then, by all means, help yourself.”

I give him a curt nod and walk away. I can feel eyes following me, but I’m not sure they’re his. They could be Juliana’s, wondering where I’m going. I make it to the edge of the living room, to the first step, when my too-big toes for my too-small shoes catch on the carpet. I stumble.

Shit!

I right myself and resist the urge to look back. I keep walking and pretend like it didn’t happen. Of course I would trip!

When I make it to the kitchen, I take my time fixing my drink to shake it off. The lighting in the living room is dim, I rationalize. Chances are no one saw my grace-less exit.

With my cup full again, I head out to find Jules. She’s half-dancing, half-talking to a girl I don’t know. As I make my way over to them, someone grazes my elbow. I turn and find myself staring at Latson.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m disappointed,” he says.

“Why?”

“Your moves.” He flashes a cocky grin. “Especially that last one. They’re nowhere as good as what I saw this morning.”

Jackass!  He hasn’t earned the right to tease me. I step closer to him and try to turn the tables. “That’s because what you saw this morning is for private audiences only.” I look around the room. “This is a public place.”

He looks surprised before I walk away. I make sure to measure my steps so I won’t trip again. Successful and smiling, I make it to Juliana, who introduces me to Gwen, a bartender who works with my brother. She seems sweet, and the three of us spend the next hour talking, drinking, and dancing.

Eventually, nature calls. “Guys,” I say. “I need to use the bathroom. Where is it?”

“Down the – ahhhh!” Gwen laughs as Carter swoops in behind her. He spins her around and then sets her on her feet. She brushes her hair out of her face. “It’s down the hall on the left.”

“Got it.”

I weave my way through bodies until I reach the hallway I spotted when we arrived. I’m surprised there isn’t line for the bathroom. In fact, the hall is empty and all of the doors are closed. I head to the left and open the first one I see. Whoops. That’s a closet. Gwen could have been more specific, but, then again, she’s had a few shots. There is only one other door to choose from, so I open it and step inside. I feel around for the light switch and when I flip it, I’m not prepared for what I see.

Well.

This is unexpected.

Chapter Five

I glance around the room.

Posters of something called Minecraft hang on the walls. I’ve never heard of it, but the pictures make it look like some sort of pixelated video game. A blue striped comforter covers a twin bed, and a small entertainment stand holds a television and a gaming system. Cords snake across the carpet to two controllers that lay next to a Nerf gun on the floor. The top of the dresser is covered in action figures, and a small basketball hoop hangs over one of the closet doors.

I blink. This is a kid’s bedroom.

Why does Latson have a kid’s bedroom?

I quickly turn off the light and step into the hallway. I’m about to piss my pants. I decide to try the door across the hall. Where there’s a bedroom there is usually a bathroom nearby. Lucky for me, I’m right. I rush inside and close the door. Apparently Gwen can’t tell her right from her left. I’m going to have to show her that trick where you make a letter L with your left thumb and forefinger as a reminder.

When I head back to the living room, I spot Juliana and she makes a face. “Where were you?”

“I told you I needed the bathroom.”

She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “The bathroom for parties is over there.”

I look over her head. She’s pointing to the hallway on the opposite side of the apartment.

“No one told me there was a designated toilet.” My expression twists. “Gwen said ‘down the hall’ and I picked one.”

My brother comes up behind Jules. He hands her a cup, wraps his arms around her waist, and sets his chin on her shoulder. He looks at me. “Having fun?”

“If you forget about tripping in front of the host and venturing into prohibited territory, then yes,” I say.

The music slows down and Juliana’s eyes get that ‘I’m-buzzed-and-I-want-to-rub-up-on-my-boyfriend’ look. She turns around in Pete’s arms and I decide I don’t need to watch them get cozy. More party goers have the same idea as the two of them, so it’s easy to find a place to sit. I wander over to an empty loveseat to wait out Ed Sheeran’s “Kiss Me”. As the song plays I can’t stop my fingers from strumming invisible strings. I love Ed. Hearing him makes me itch to pick up my guitar and play.

A pair of legs rounds the couch and I look up as Latson sits down. He flashes a sexy smile in my direction and my heart stutters.

Damn it. The last thing I need is to be attracted to this guy.

He settles against the cushions all confident-like and I cross my arms. He looks at me and I look at him until I raise an eyebrow in question.

“You don’t dance to slow songs?” he asks.

“Only with the right person,” I respond.

“And where is he?”

I decide to mess with him. “How do you know he isn’t a she?”

Latson smiles and shakes his head. “Is he a she?”

I shrug, trying to be nonchalant. “Maybe they should be. Good men are hard to find.”

Ain’t that the truth.

Latson’s eyes light up like he wants to say something smart, but he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze darts to the hallway I just explored. “Were you looking for one earlier?  A good man, I mean.”

He saw me?  I don’t want him to think I spy on people like he does. “I got lost, I swear. Gwen gives bad directions.”

He laughs, then leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. This closes the distance between us and his leg ends up pressed against mine. He shoots me another lethal smile. “Well, if you ever want a private tour let me know.”

My mouth tries to fall open, but I catch it. I’m sure he’s used this line on women before and I’m sure it’s worked. Especially if he looked at their lips the way he looking at mine.

Before I can think of a witty comeback, a girl wearing a tiny, form-fitting mini dress throws her body in his lap. I lean back as she winds her arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she coos. “Work ran over.”

I take in her unnatural cranberry red hair and six-inch high stilettos. Hmmm. Where does she work?

“Heidi.” Latson adjusts her weight on his legs. “This is Jen.” He nods toward me. “Jen, Heidi.”

I assume Pete told him my name. I like the way it sounds when he says it, but I don’t like that he used it to introduce me to his girlfriend. He was just hitting on me. Are all the men I meet cheating pigs?

Heidi dismisses me with a flip of her hair and turns her attention back to her man. She whispers in his ear, and I roll my eyes and push myself off the couch. I take a few steps before Latson says, “Wait.”

I turn to see him slide Heidi off his lap. She looks pissed. He walks over to stand in front of me. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” I say.

“Why?”

“Because I just got rid of a cheater.” I take another step. “And I don’t plan on getting mixed up with another one.”

~~~~

The following afternoon I find myself thinking about something I never considered before.

How to hurt Juliana.

Option number one: throat punch her. From the arc trainer next to mine, she’s just the right height for my fist.

Option number two: pull the cord to her ear buds. When they fall, they might tangle around her feet and slow her down.

Option number three –

“You’re doing great!”

Jules gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up and I give her a weak smile in return. I can’t believe I let her talk me into going to the gym. I’ve never worked out before and trying to keep up with her pace feels like torture. When she introduced me to the arc trainer, she said the machine was great for cardio. She said nothing about the possibility of a having a stroke. I never run, and this machine is making me. Sweat runs down my forehead and down my back; hell, it even runs between my boobs. I glance down at the workout top Juliana made me borrow and frown at the growing stain. How is anything getting down there?  The girls are pushed together so tight they look like I’ve had plastic surgery.

Finally the machine beeps, letting me know it’s time to cool down after forty-five minutes of insanity. I look at Juliana. She fans herself and slows her steps. I slow down too, but my hands remain glued to the machine. They’re sealed to the handles with a layer of sweat. I can’t let go and keep moving. I’ll lose my balance for sure.

Once we’re finished I step off the arc on to wobbly legs. I grab my water bottle and chug. Juliana takes out her ear buds. “How do you feel?”

I swallow and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Like road kill.”

“Excellent!”  Juliana gives me an energetic smile instead of sympathy. “Let’s give your legs a rest and work on arms.”

Oooo. Let’s.

We walk over to the free weights, which happen to be stacked in front of floor to ceiling mirrors. Jules reaches for the five pound weights and hands them to me. Then, she grabs the ten pound weights for herself.

“Okay. Follow along in the mirror.”

I do as I’m told and the whole time I question why. This hurts. As my biceps start to quiver, I assess my situation. I know Jules wants a workout buddy, but I’m not sure I’m the best girl for the job. Sure, there’s a little extra junk in the trunk I could stand to lose. But I’m not a big fan of sweat. Or fatigue.

Or the cramp forming in my side.

I’m formulating a plan to break the news to Juliana when a guy walks up and selects a set of heavier weights. He steps back and places them on the ground, then reaches behind his head to stretch. The bottom of his t-shirt rises, revealing the waistline of his gym shorts and that deep V you read about in romance novels.

I miss a step following Jules. Holy abs, Batman. I start to reconsider my stance on working out.

By the time we return our weights to the rack, thirty minutes have passed. We’ve been at the gym for almost two hours; it has to be time to leave. Excited by the idea of a hot shower, I consider skipping to the locker room despite feeling tired. After I drain my water bottle, I ask, “Is it time to go?”

“Almost.” Juliana starts to walk away. “There’s another machine I want you to try.”

Argh!  “Are you trying to kill me?”

She laughs. “No. It’s one of my favorite machines and it’s rare to find it unoccupied. Let’s go before someone claims it.”

Her ponytail bobs as she power walks to a piece of equipment in the corner. When we reach it I read the name: Hammer Strength Leg Press. To me, it resembles something out of the middle ages.

“This one is great for your quads and glutes,” she says. “You sit here.” She plants her ass in the seat. “Then, lean back.”

Juliana looks like she’s lying on the ground in a chair that’s been tipped over. She raises her legs in the air. “You place your feet here,” she sets her shoes against a rectangular black plate in front of her, “and push.”

My hands land on my hips. “You look like you’re at the gynecologist.”

“Ha!” She laughs before unlocking the machine and completing two sets of ten reps. When she finishes, she pauses to breathe before doing more.

“Your turn,” she says and slides out of the seat.

Feeling wary, I trade places with her. I mimic Juliana, and when I set my feet against the plate, my knees are a centimeter from my chest. I’m crunched into a ball. I grab hold of the handles to unlock the machine like she did, and the weight falls against me. I straighten my legs to push it back up.

Holy hell this is heavy.

“Good!” Jules encourages me. “Try to do ten.”

I’m on number three when she looks up and gets sidetracked. “Oh, there’s Carly from the salon. I need to see if she can switch shifts with me. I’ll be right back.”

Yes!  There’s no way I’m doing ten leg presses. Even though I finished with the arc a while ago, my legs still feel like Jell-O. I finish the fourth press, then let my knees fall against my chest to rest. This is crazy. I look up and notice the weight of the plate is written next to my toe. One hundred and ninety pounds. No wonder I can’t do this!

After I breathe for a couple of minutes, I push against the plate to lift it so I can get out of the machine. It barely moves.

Oh no.

I try again, but my legs are so wasted I don’t have the strength. Not even enough to push the weight an inch higher so I can lock it into place and crawl out. I wait a second and try again. Nothing happens, except my legs shake.

This is not happening.

I’m stuck.

I’m stuck in a Hammer Strength leg press!

I lay my head back and close my eyes. Okay. It’s not a big deal. Juliana will be back in a minute and she’ll help me. I just have to keep the weight from completely crushing my legs into my body. I can do this.

I can do this.

I can do this.

The weight grows heavier against my feet, and my thighs press uncomfortably against my ribs.

I can’t do this!

My heart starts to pound. I will be the first person to be crushed to death in a leg press. I know it. It will make headlines.

“Looks like you could use some help.”

Awww, hell. I know that voice.

I open one eye to find Latson standing over me. “What makes you think so?” I wheeze.

“Your face is beet red.”

Shit.

Before I can ask, he steps forward and lifts the weight off of my feet. I lock the handles into place and roll out on to the ground. I don’t care that the floor of the gym is infested with germs. I don’t care that I’m lying on my side in too tight workout clothes in front of a hot guy. All I care about is the return of circulation to my legs.

Latson crouches down beside me. “Is it that bad?  How long were you in there?”

I should lie and say an hour. “Only a few minutes.”

He chuckles. “It’s a good thing I found you.”

“Are you stalking me?”

He smirks. “I joined this gym two years ago. No.”

I decide to sit up and he helps me by pulling my wrist. Once I’m on my butt, I look at him. He’s wearing navy blue athletic shorts and another plain white t-shirt. I grab the material with two fingers and pull. “Don’t you own any other clothes?”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time I see you you’re wearing a plain white tee.”

He gives me the half smile with the dimple. “Sounds like you’re the one stalking me.”