Sneak Attack (Tapped Out 2)

Sitting up, I mopped my face with my towel. “I’m not for sale, sad to say.”

“No? I swear my membership offered exclusive members only bennies. So far all I’ve seen are cramped showers in the ladies, way too much testosterone and you.” She cocked her head and studied my weights. “Two-twenty, huh? Impressive.” She leaned forward and pinched my biceps. “These too.”

I swung my legs over the side. “Thanks.” I couldn’t say I minded the attention, especially since

I’d been lower than the grime under my shoe all morning. But that didn’t mean I intended to cross any boundaries. Nor would I let her cross them for me. “So you’re new to The Cage?”

“Very new. I signed up earlier this week.”

“Well then, let me welcome you.”

Her gaze dropped to my mouth. “Here’s hoping that’s phase one.”

“Phase one and only.” I held out a hand. “I’m—”

“I know you. “ She pumped my hand in a firm grip, then held on when I would’ve pulled back. “Fox Knox. Fighter dude.”

I eased away and slung my towel around my neck. “No longer a fighter.”

Her gaze ventured downward again, though this time my mouth was nothing but a pit stop. “Still a dude though,” she said, unabashedly studying my groin.

“Are you here to use the machines?” Strictly professional all the way. “Maybe take a class? I can help you figure out what might suit your interests.”

“No, I have a gym setup at home. I came here predominantly for something else.”

I stood and turned my back on her to clean up the bench. No matter how far I’d sunk emotionally, I wasn’t about to lead anyone on. Mia had me, heart and balls.

I could say that for sure, because both hurt like a motherfucker.

Leaving her alone in bed that morning had been hard as hell. I’d even forgotten to leave her a note in my haste to get out. Despite knowing how much she didn’t like to cuddle on most days—or maybe she liked it too much and hated what she saw as a weakness—I’d wanted nothing more than to wrap myself around her and ask why she’d needed to get that tattoo when she knew I was waiting for her. Why she was pulling away more each day.

And who the hell’s calls were blowing up her phone.

But I didn’t. Because even having to ask felt like a weakness I couldn’t stand. Trusting her was still new, and maybe I was failing a test. As much as I wanted to support her, always, I needed some fucking support too. I’d made a long overdue break from my parents and was changing where I lived, my job and so much else, and I needed to know she had my back. That if I called her about something more important than leftovers, she wouldn’t ignore me to go get inked. Or…worse.

I didn’t think she was cheating on me. Didn’t want to think it. She’d never string me along. But that didn’t explain those calls on her cell or her distance.

And it also didn’t change the fact that a gorgeous woman was sucking me up with her saucer-sized eyes while a knowing little smile played around her mouth. She thought I was fantasizing about her. Instead I was ruminating—again—about Mia.

Yeah, I was a chump. A faithful one, but still a chump.

“If you have a gym setup at home, what are you looking for here exactly?” I yanked out a handful of wipes. I’d done so many reps that I’d practically sweat through my clothes yet the brunette kept licking her lips like I was dinner and she planned to eat with her hands.

“Coach Timmins told me yesterday that I’d get to meet my MMA trainer today. I stopped by the office and no one was there so I came here. Timmins said I’d be working with Tray—”

“Tray is me,” I interrupted smoothly, cocking a brow as I looked her up and down. Not as a man would examine a woman, but as a coach would study a fighter. She was fairly tall and seemed about average weight with definite biceps under the cap sleeves of her T-shirt. Beneath the tied-off hems of her capris, her calf muscles looked strong enough to do some damage.

If you ignored the hot pink nails and the perfect makeup job that would’ve made my girl roll her eyes hard enough to cause a strain, she passed for a fighter.

Which I said in not so many words.

She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I do not pass for a fighter, thank you very much. I am one. I used to fight professionally overseas. So you know, maybe stuff the judgment until you see what I’ve got, hey?”

Overseas. Well, that explained the faint British accent that had risen along with the temper in her voice. “My apologies.”

“Yeah, well, you can stuff those too.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “I see the fighter in you now.”