He laughed. “I can’t even touch my toes, but we have classes at my gym. You’re a morning person then.”
“I like to see the sun rise.” The way the sky turned from black to gray to pink and then blue, how the top of the mountains caught the first rays. The way the city was still asleep.
“I can understand that. I run at six almost every morning. I like the quiet.” Was that why he drove those guys off—because they were too loud? Could this guy be an introvert like me?
Something settled inside me. He knew. He liked the quiet.
“You… you do understand then,” I replied, my voice soft. I was pleased, thrilled even and a little spurt of pleasure coursed through me.
The corner of his mouth turned up, but he didn’t say anything, only kept looking at me. Now, when his eyes held mine, I wasn’t nervous, I was… intrigued.
“I play flag football on Sundays through a rec league, just for fun. It’s not overly competitive, especially since there are a bunch of us older guys out there.”
Older guys? He couldn’t be much older than me. Maybe forty or so. I doubted he had trouble keeping up with anyone younger, especially if he was a trainer. He looked more than fit to hold his own at whatever he wanted to accomplish. I just didn’t expect a cowboy to play flag football. But that was pretty judgmental, especially when I hated it when people made snap decisions about me. Like Bob/Bill and me being a candy striper.
“The game is at eleven,” he continued. “I’d like it if you came.”
My mouth fell open, and I didn’t know what to say. He was asking me out? He held up a hand. “Don’t panic—it’s not a date.”
My heart fluttered at the invitation nonetheless. I arched a brow. “Really? Is this how you ask all the girls out?”
“Girls? Like the ones inside?”
I could only nod.
He leaned forward, eyed me closely. “I want you… to come to my game. Not as a date because I imagine if I asked you out right now, you might bolt. As I said, I don’t want you scared of me.”
When I opened my mouth once again to speak, he put a finger over my lips. The touch was warm and gentle, and I could do nothing more than feel the tingle of it all the way to my toes… and other places.
“Or nervous. Trust me, Emory, when I ask you out, you’ll know.”
He said when, not if.
“I just want to see you again.” He lowered his hand.
“I thought you weren't trying to pick me up,” I argued.
“This—” He waggled a finger between us. “—is different. This isn't a pick up. Those girls, those are pick-ups. You…” He let the rest of the sentence drop. While I was still processing as to why, he continued. “Don’t think of it as a date but as coincidence, both of us being at Antelope Park at the same time.”
I eyed him, doubting his sincerity. “You really—”
He cut me off with one simple word. “Yes.”
Those butterflies, bees, no, hornets were back in my stomach. He wanted me to show up—otherwise, he wouldn’t have offered. He was leaving the decision to do so completely up to me, clearly aware of how nervous I was. Once again, he was setting me at ease in the hopes I’d show up. I had until Sunday morning to decide what I wanted to do. From the ridiculously brief time he knew me, he’d learned I had to make a weighted, safe choice.
While we’d been talking, the sun had set completely. Besides little white lights strung along the railing, we were illuminated from the bar. Gray’s face was in harsh contrast, his gaze darker and more intent. He looked like a guy you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley, but I felt… safe with him. I hadn’t had to pretend or fake a conversation, it just happened, even sticking my foot in my mouth. He’d set me at ease, and it turned out we had a lot in common. I also found him hot as hell.
“No need to be nervous then,” I replied, poking fun at myself.
“Nope.” He smiled warmly, easily.
His gaze dipped to my mouth, and I had to wonder if he wanted to kiss me. I kind of wanted to kiss him, too. My heart raced at the idea. I hadn't had any interest in kissing a guy in a long time, and I had to admit it was a little scary. Fast and scary. Not Gray himself. He seemed patient and comfortable. I didn't dare tell him that. No guy wanted to be thought of as comfortable.
“I… I should get going. It was nice meeting you, Gray, but yoga’s at six.”
I stood although the legs of my chair didn’t scrape against the concrete. He stood as well, and I had to tilt my head back to look at him.
“I don’t want you walking to your car by yourself, so let me escort you.”
“Thank you. I would take you up on the offer, truly, but I valeted it.”
Working in the ER gave me a front row seat to all of the bad stuff that happened in Brant Valley.
He laughed easily. “Of course, you did.”
I looked up at him through my lashes and realized he wasn’t poking fun, but he was definitely amused by me.
“Good night,” I murmured, walking past him.
His hand on my bare arm had me pausing, my breath catching. The touch was gentle, his skin warm and rough with callouses, yet it was like a shock to the system. “I hope to see you on Sunday, Emory.”
His voice was quiet, almost intimate.
I gave a little nod but didn’t look up at him, my skin where he touched tingled all the way to my car.
Chapter 3
GRAY
I fucked up. That’s all I could think about as I pushed hard through a five-mile run and began my usual thirty-minute stint with a jump rope. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the plastic striking the gym mat was almost lulling, and I fell into my groove, my muscles warm from the run.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Click. Click. Click.
There were a few early-morning guys getting their workout in, but it was Saturday, so most of us were here to get in and get out and not interested in talking. This suited me fine. My first client was at ten, but right now, I just went through the paces. Besides, the guys knew I was always there for them—it was my gym after all—but a guy’s workout time was sacrosanct, and everyone knew not to fuck with me during mine.
The cleaning crew had come through overnight, and the strong scent of pine cleaner and bleach lingered. The speakers pumped out a techno beat. I hated lyrics blasting while I worked out, the voices distracting me, so I kept a playlist where the steady rhythm helped keep the mood amped. As owner, I ran the gym my way. Since my name in the industry preceded me, no one was going to question me or how I did things. And if they did, well, they could go somewhere else.
The gym had been open a few years, and I had my regulars, plus my solid core of employees, which suited me just fine. I liked things calm. Consistent. The only fights I wanted to be involved in these days were in the ring, and usually it wasn’t me doing the fighting. Not anymore. I was done with that life now. I was just the trainer behind the ropes. Yeah, right. There was no fucking way I could ever be just a trainer behind the ropes. No one would let me. My agent, the sponsors, all of them wanted a piece of The Outlaw. And me? I just wanted… quiet. Just as Emory had said.