"You trust me?"
"Of course."
"Then I'll see you at six."
Chapter Thirty
Iris
I take a deep breath as I step into Inked Hearts.
The bell rings.
Eyes turn in my direction. Leighton. Brendon. Walker.
His dark eyes light up as his smile spreads over his cheeks. He's always so happy to see me. Like I'm the sun on a cloudy day.
Leighton smiles. "Hey, Iris. How's it going?"
"Good." I tug at the zipper of my hoodie. My thighs rub together as I walk. These shorts are too short. And too tight.
"Hey, sweetness." Walker moves out from his suite. Wraps his arms around my waist. "You look good enough to eat."
My cheeks flush.
He motions to the bathroom in the corner.
I shake my head. Lean in to whisper. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yeah." He steps back. Moves to Dean's suite.
The blue-eyed tattoo artist is sitting in his chair, scribbling in a sketchbook. He looks up at us with a disaffected expression. "Yeah?"
"It's back and biceps day," Walker says.
Dean looks from Walker to me then back to Walker. "And?"
"You and Iris are coming with me," Walker says.
"Told you. I don't do threesomes anymore," Dean deadpans.
"Cute." Walker shakes his head. "You're right. I've been M.I.A. Not anymore."
Dean taps his pen against his sketchbook.
"From now on, our routine is my fucking religion." Walker runs his hand through his hair. "And I'm gonna keep you in the loop about Bree." Walker looks from me to his best friend. "I want you to know Iris. 'Cause she's gonna be around."
I swallow hard.
Dean looks up at me. "Is this gonna be a regular thing now?"
"No. I hate lifting weights." I press my lips together. "Just… well, you've been an asshole."
He nods fair enough.
"But I do want us to be friendly." I tug on my zipper. "I don't want to steal your best friend."
Dean shrugs you're ridiculous, but there's relief in his blue eyes.
Walker nods to the door. "Come on. Get dressed. We'll see who can do the bigger curl."
Dean pushes himself to his feet. He motions to the sidewalk.
Walker shakes his head really?
Dean nods really.
"At the gym," Walker says.
Dean chuckles. "Done."
This is a rich people gym.
It's ridiculous. The sunset streams through the wide windows, falling over rows of pristine ellipticals, treadmills, and stationary bikes.
The weight section occupies the other half of the room. It's all mirrors and adjustable benches and guys grunting through sets.
It's way beyond my level.
Walker nods to the guy at the counter. "My girlfriend wants to try the place out."
The guy waves me through cool.
We move into the gym. Dean motions to the empty mats in the weight section.
Walker nods.
They're saying something.
I have no idea what the something is. Only that it's some friend/guy/tattoo artist code I'll never understand.
Walker tosses his cell and keys on the floor. Kicks off his shoes. Peels off his socks.
Dean does the same.
They stare.
Walker holds up three fingers. Then two. Then one.
They lunge at each other. Grapple into a wrestling headlock. Then they're knocking each other to the ground.
Dean's pinning Walker.
Then Walker's pinning Dean.
They grunt through a dozen positions.
It would be hot as hell if it wasn't so weird.
No… it's still hot.
But weird.
What the hell?
They're a tangle of limbs, jeans, cotton t-shirts.
Then Dean is pinning Walker. And Walker is tapping the ground for mercy.
Dean jumps—actually jumps—to his feet. He nods okay and offers his hand.
Walker pushes himself up and shakes.
I stare at my boyfriend. "What was that?"
"How we settle shit," Walker says.
I look to Dean.
He cocks a brow. "You got a problem with that?"
I guess not. "You're good now?" Guys are so weird.
They trade a look. How is that not obvious?
Walker moves to me. He leans in to whisper. "I let him win."
"You fucking wish you let me win." Dean shakes his head please. He motions to the locker room. "Flirt with your girlfriend. I'm gonna change." He winks at me. "I won't tell if you picture me naked."
And he leaves.
What the…
"That's really it?" I ask.
"Yeah."
I tilt my head to one side. "Really?"
Walker's laugh lights up his dark eyes. "Yeah. Really." He leans in to press his lips to mine.
"I can't believe he beat you."
"I let him win."
"Did you though?"
"That's cold, sweetness."
My lips curl into a smile. This is okay. And, as much as Walker likes to pretend like nothing affects him, his friendship with Dean clearly means a lot.
"I better change," he says.
I nod. "I can't be the only one in shorts."
He gives me a long once-over. "Any way I can convince you to wear these forever?"
"I'm sure you can think of something."
Dean hops onto the treadmill to my right. "Whatever you imagined, it's bigger."
Walker jumps onto the treadmill to my left. He makes a point of rolling his eyes. "Nobody is interested in your dick."
"Nobody? You want to put money on that?" Dean asks.
Walker laughs. "Sure. How much?"
"Nah, I can't stand to see you lose in front of your girl again. It's pitiful." He looks to Walker. "You casual with that information now?"
"Yeah." Walker turns up the speed on his treadmill until it's matching mine. "I'm not in high school. It's not a big deal."
Dean shrugs fair enough. He looks to me as he amps up his speed until it's just a little faster. "You agree?"
"No, actually." I slide my hoodie off my shoulders, hang it on the railing. This is beyond weird. They went from frosty to friendly in two minutes flat.
"Damn. Your girl's already contradicting you. So much for the honeymoon." Dean chuckles. "Good game, though, getting you here in those tiny shorts."
"You looking at my girl's shorts?" Walker's voice gets faux threatening.
"Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?" Dean raises a brow, faux threatening back.
"Fuck her in the next room." Walker winks. His voice is easy. Effortless.
Dean isn't even a little out of breath either.
Damn tattoo artists and their pristine fitness.
My cheeks flush.
"He talks about you a lot. It's fucking obnoxious," Dean says. "As bad as Brendon."
"Is that really possible?" I ask.
"I didn't think so. But, yeah. You better not break his heart. Pretty sure he'll be worse than Ryan," Dean says.