Strong and Steady

Emory had been right. Thor did what Laura needed, and she gave him—from the shit-eating smile on his face—amazing sex. Emory had no clue about dating but could clearly see relationship dynamics for others. I never, ever wanted to be the guy who was thrilled picking out a toilet bowl brush, but I’d never tell that to Thor. I wasn’t that stupid. I leaned forward, so my elbows rested on my knees, watched the activity in the gym. Two guys jumped rope in the corner. The beginner Jiu Jitsu class was stretching out. Several guys worked the bags with punches and kicks. The two I'd been training were on the treadmill.

“How’s Emory?” Thor asked, wiping his face again.

“Good. We went to the Roadhouse and got wings.” We’d spent two hours eating and talking, and I’d enjoyed watching her get messy. She’d forgotten how nervous she was and lost her skittishness as she worked her way through a bunch of hot wings. I’d been able to see her, and I really liked what I saw, even with spicy sauce on her fingers and mouth. She might not like Rocky Mountain Oysters, thank fuck, but the wings had been a hit.

“She

seems… different,” he added.

I thought about that. There was no comparison between her and the women who threw themselves at me, or I'd taken to bed in the past. I’d always just been looking for an easy lay, a reprieve from my life. I didn't date. I didn't have long term relationships. Hell, Emory had been the first woman in my apartment besides the house cleaners.

She hadn't pushed her way in either. I'd brought her. I hadn't thought about it, considered what I was doing. I'd just let her in, and it had been… easy. With Emory, I wanted more. I wanted her, fuck, I wanted her more than any woman. Ever. I wanted to learn her body, to watch her as I explored her curves, to see what made her hot, to see what made her eyes go dark with passion. To have her beneath me again, and not on the hard surface of the ring with a bunch of guys wondering about the woman who'd snagged my interest. I wanted her in a soft bed… and naked. To know what she looked like when she came all over my cock. I shifted on the bench. “She didn’t know who I was.”

He was wiping his face with the end of his towel but lowered it to look at me with wide eyes. “No shit?”

“I told her, but she didn’t seem all that impressed. She wanted to see inside the gym and seemed impressed for what I accomplished, definitely, but not overly interested that I was famous for it.”

“Her friend knew who you were,” he replied.

I grinned. “Yeah, and she thought I was gay because of it.”

Thor laughed, and the guys jumping rope turned their heads to look at us.

“Are you going to tell her about the shit with your dad?” he asked, the smile dropping as he wiped more sweat away. He shifted his gaze to the two guys just starting a round of sparring in the ring, knowing it was easier to talk this way, without looking at each other like a bunch of girls at a sleepover.

I dropped my head, looked at the concrete floor between my bare feet. “Fuck if I know, but I’m sure she learned a fair amount with a computer search by now.” The shit with my dad was out there on the Internet but not the full story. Enough, though, to drive her away. “I held her hand. That’s it.”

This had Thor glancing at me. “No shit?” he repeated.

“No shit,” I replied on a sigh. “I want to do this right. I… I like her. It’s not a matter of me telling her about my past because a quick search on her phone will tell her enough, but if she makes it to my bed—no, when she makes it to my bed—there will be nothing between us.”

“I thought you had a no-sleepover rule.”

Sex was sex, and that was it. There was no cuddling after, no sleeping over. That’s why I never had a woman to my apartment. No strings. Another reason taking Emory there yesterday had been a big deal. But when I'd come out of the shower and she was there, pretty as a picture waiting for me, it felt right. It felt… more.

“That’s what I want from her.” I ran a hand over my head, my short hairs rasping against my palm. The front desk attendant waved to get my attention, held the phone up in the air and pointed at it. I stood, looked down at my friend. “Which means I’m fucked.”

I went into my office that had a wall of glass facing out onto the mats and dropped into my desk chair to take the call. I hadn’t even gotten a taste of Emory, and I knew whatever could be between us was doomed. I shouldn’t have texted her, kept things going, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to let her go.

“Green,” I barked.

“Hello, Sonny.”

That voice. That nickname. Not Grayson or Gray. Sonny. Fuck. My hand gripped the phone so hard, it probably cracked the plastic. A call from dear old dad only meant one thing. I was still totally fucked.

“Heard you got a girlfriend.”

10

EMORY

* * *

I nudged the car door shut with my hip as I lugged two grocery bags and my purse from my parking spot, which, fortunately, I found on my block. It was all very tight parallel parking. It was almost eight, and the night was still hot. All I could think about was a shower, a simple dinner then a book. It had been a long day in the ER, punctuated by a stabbing, a family in a car accident and a guy with one too many personalities. I had two more days to go this week, so when the ambulance went by with the siren blaring, I was glad it was someone else’s turn to patch them up.

When I could see my house, the little boy from the other day and an older man were sitting on my steps. He appeared to be in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, a full beard, wearing jeans and a Harley T-shirt. His outfit screamed biker, but I didn’t see one at the curb. In the heat, he somehow looked cool while I felt rumpled and wilted in my scrubs. My hair was long down my back in a sloppy tail, I had no makeup, and I was sweating. The scent of strong antibacterial soap clung to me. Not the best way to greet guests.

When they saw me approach, they stood. “Take one of the bags from the lady, Jackson,” the man directed.