I pulled into the parking lot of the local gym the next day, eyeing the building with a mixture of hope and anxiety.
After another sleepless night and the humiliating encounter with Cash, I was ready to work out some of my tension despite my exhaustion. I’d dropped Riley off at school and headed here, to a gym Emmie had recommended.
At first glance, the gym itself was nothing fancy, a large open-concept space made up mostly of weight training equipment with cardio machines lining the walls. A quick look online had made it clear that it didn’t have any of the on-trend studio workouts that lined every block in San Francisco. But it was clean and close to the house.
I’d been in excellent shape once upon a time, following professional athletes around the world as an outdoor photographer. But after everything happened with my brother and adopting Riley, prioritizing myself had fallen to the wayside. With this fresh start in Hawthorne, I planned to change that.
I needed to.
Once the monosyllabic beast of a man signed me up for a membership, I made my way to the treadmill, eyeing it with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
For years, running had been like breathing. There was nothing like the elation of pushing your body to its limit, of feeling free and strong. I missed it desperately and was terrified I wouldn’t get it back. That I couldn’t.
It’s a fucking treadmill, Layla,I scolded myself, stepping onto the machine. I was grateful the gym was nearly empty at this early weekday hour as I started at a brisk walking pace and zoned out to the music filtering in through my earbuds. It was a seemingly small thing and yet felt so monumental, one of the first steps I was taking to reclaim my life and who I’d once been.
Despite lack of exercise, I was trim, a function largely of being a single parent for the past two years. But the muscle tone was gone—the oneness with my frame and what it could do was gone.
And dammit, I was getting it back. I punched up the speed a couple of notches, moving into a slow jog, more resolved than ever.
Thirty minutes later, I’d slowed to a steady walk, willing some classic Janet Jackson to push me through my last few minutes. The gym had been empty when I’d walked in and I used the privacy to my advantage, letting my hands move to the music, rocking out to entertain myself through the final push.
When I stopped the treadmill and stepped off, I nearly collapsed on my already wobbly legs.
The Viking was doing pull-ups straight ahead of me. Wearing black gym shorts and a white tank with the sides cut out, his muscles gleamed with sweat as he pulled himself upward. His body was magnificent. Every muscle was toned and cut to perfection.
He let out a low grunt of effort, and my entire body shivered in response.
Jerk, he’s a jerk, I reminded myself. Even if he was a glistening body of male perfection. Even if the low grunts he made roused a nearly animalistic response in me I hadn’t known existed.
Shit, maybe I needed a different gym.
After a few moments where I stood hopelessly gawking, he dropped down and rubbed his hands together, looking satisfied. Hell, I’d be satisfied too if I’d just done a gazillion pull-ups.
His gaze snapped to mine, and in that moment, I swore I felt an actual spark shoot through me. My intake of breath was embarrassingly loud in the quiet space. We stared at each other for a few moments, the energy snapping like a live wire between us.
Then I remembered the night before, and my face flamed with humiliation. I turned away, disgusted with myself for ogling him, and headed for the weight rack on the opposite side of the gym.
I was lying on my back, my weights poised above me, when black shorts entered my periphery. My arms shook with a combination of surprise and too much weight.
“Whoa there, chief.” His deep voice sounded as his handsome face came into view above me. “Need some help?” His brow arched as his large hands clasped mine, helping me with the weight.
“No,” I gritted out in frustration, setting the weights on my knees and sitting up.
He sat on the bench next to me, his gaze sweeping toward the treadmill and then back at me. “Nice moves.” His smothered grin earned a glare from me.
“If you don’t like it, don’t watch it.” I shrugged with more confidence than I felt.
He eyed me steadily. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
I fought the full-body shudder his intensity incited. His look was nearly predatory as his gaze roved my body before locking eyes with me again.
I looked away quickly, needing to break the spell for my own sanity. It had been a while since I’d been with anyone, but that wasn’t it. Not really. It was just him. I’d never had this kind of immediate attraction to someone before. And the fact he was such an arrogant ass pissed me right the hell off.
“Is there something you wanted?” I demanded when he continued to stare at me as though trying to figure me out.
“Why’d you want an escort to your car last night?” he asked finally.
The audacity of this guy, seriously. “None of your business,” I shot back.