Unexpected

Chapter 28

Dane

It's after 6 P.M. when I see her walk through the door of the gym. She looks all 'librarian' in her pencil skirt, billowy silk top, hair in a bun, and the glasses. She hasn't spotted me yet, and I watch her nervously glancing around. I want her to find me. I want to see her face light up at seeing me. I know it's fucking narcissistic of me, but after her rejection yesterday, I kind of need it. I'm surprised she showed up at all, honestly. It's hard to hear anything over the loud music pumping from the gym speakers, but I see her turn as if someone is calling to her. Oh hell no. I watch as Dillon walks up to her looking more than willing to help her. I jog over to them.

"Mallory, you made it."

She turns in my direction and I am rewarded with a smile.

"Hey. I thought I should at least give it a try."

"I guess you're good then?" Dillon interjects looking at Mallory.

"Yeah, we're good," I answer for her hoping he'd take the hint.

He smirks at me, but then touches her arm lightly and adds, "Just let me know if I can be of any help. My name's Dillon."

She nods shyly and blushes.

"Bye, Dillon," I state flatly with fuck-off eyes.

He chuckles and finally leaves.

"I hope you have a change of clothes in that bag you're carrying." I indicate with a nod of my head towards it.

"Um, yeah. I didn't feel comfortable changing at the library."

"Well, the women's locker room is this way."

I take off in that direction, and she follows quietly behind me. This gym tends to be more male oriented. We do have females here, but they are more of the hard-core fitness variety: boxers, weight lifters, you know, the Lara Croft-kick-your-ass-in-a-minute kind of girls. No new mothers trying to lose the baby weight here. In hindsight, I'm not sure why I invited Mallory to come here. It just kind of came out. I mean, she wants to get into exercising, and I happen to work at a gym, so maybe it's not too out of pocket.

When she comes back out, I'm struck yet again by seeing her in the tight exercise outfit. I don't get why I'm so affected by it. I see hundreds of women in similar dress and with killer bodies, but something about seeing her like this is different. She's obviously self-conscious about it, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at the ground. She doesn't know she's beautiful and that's kind of nice. Most women I know weld it like a special power or something.

"So, what's the plan?" she asks softly.

Right. Time to get my head out of my ass. I walk her around, showing her the different rooms or areas. We go over the different work-out equipment, and lastly, I take her to my area of expertise, the kick-boxing arena. There are four separate rings that have mostly men, but there is one female today suited up in a helmet and gloves, duking it out with an opponent. Mallory's eyes widened in alarm.

"This is what you like to do?" she asks in disbelief.

"Yeah. You want to try it?"

She jerks her head to look at me fearfully.

"Um, no way."

I laugh and continue to tease her.

"Come on, it's not that bad. The mouthpiece typically prevents you from losing any teeth."

The look of horror that crosses her face is so damn cute.

"I'm playing, Mallory. I didn't expect you to do kick-boxing with me. Just some good old fashioned exercise."

"THANK GOD!" she exclaims. "I was this close," she pinches her pointer finger and thumb, "to walking out of here and never coming back." She laughs in relief.

I take her back to the equipment room and show her three machines that I instruct her on how to use, telling her how long or how many reps I expect her to do. As she gets on the treadmill for the warm-up run, I turn to leave.

"Wait. You're not going to stay with me?" she questions.

"As much as I'd like to watch, I do have a client in a few minutes," I reply with a one-sided grin that makes her blush crimson.

"Oh, I didn't mean . . . nevermind."

"When you're done, come get me. You know where to find me, right?"

She nods.

"Have fun," I say and push the start button, causing her to focus on staying upright.

An hour later, I see her ease into the arena and hover by the door. I feel her eyes on me as I am dodging the attempted blows from my client. We continue our session for a few minutes until the bell chimes, signaling that the round is over. I go over some pointers with Marcus, my client/opponent, but overall, he did well, so there wasn't much to discuss. I start sanitizing the equipment, and Mallory walks over.

"I still can't believe you choose to get beat up for fun," she says wryly.

"Who says I'm the one getting beat up?" I counter with a grin.

She concedes with a shrug, but the movement makes her wince. I straighten up and ask with concern, "You okay?"

"I think I might have pulled a muscle in my neck with the over-the-head weight thingy."

"Weight thingy?" I laugh, but when I see her wince again, I go over to her. "Here, let me take a look."

I run my hands over her neck and shoulders, paying attention to where it hurts and the knot or tension I can feel there. I then methodically start to rub firm circles with my thumbs, which causes her to moan in appreciation and unconsciously lean into me.

"That feels . . . so good," she whispers on a sigh.

I feel myself twitch in response and have to force myself not to lean in closer and whisper all the dirty thoughts running through my head. Instead, I step back, dropping my hands to my sides. When she turns to look at me, I advise that she might want to soak it in a hot shower for a bit and take some ibuprofen. I then mentally tell myself that I need to go take a cold shower to ease my own private ache.