Crazy Heifer (The Valentine Boys 2)

“Squats,” I said. “And then I’m going to run a mile or two on the treadmill. Once I’m done there, I’ll do the bench presses.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ace muttered, following me to do just that.

***

“They’re watching you again,” Ace muttered.

“They’re not watching me. Desi’s watching me. Codie’s eyes are all for you,” I amended. “And Desi is only watching me because she can’t help but check out my guns.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Ace grumbled.

“No, but really. She doesn’t even look like she recognizes me,” I admitted.

“What were you wearing yesterday?” he asked.

I thought about that for a long moment, then shrugged.

“Wranglers, a tight black t-shirt, and my cowboy boots and cowboy hat,” I said.

“Glasses?” he pushed.

I nodded once.

“Inside? At the restaurant?” he asked.

I nodded again. “It was too bright.”

I had a problem when things got too bright.

I suffered from migraines like a little bitch. If the sun was too bright, the glasses came out, no matter if I was inside or out. It was just something I had to do or suffer the consequences later.

“She probably doesn’t recognize you then,” he said. “You’re wearing shorts and a tank top. You’re also in running shoes with no hat or glasses.”

That could be it.

“That might also be why she’s staring,” he continued.

“Could be,” I agreed. “You think I should go talk to her?”

“No,” he said. “Because it looks like they’re already on their way over.”

The two women made their way over, but not to us, exactly. To the weight bench beside us.

Codie took a seat while Desi walked around and made a motion with her hands at the bar.

“You think they’re going to put any weight on there?” I questioned.

“No,” Ace murmured right back, this time straining with effort as he got the bar up once again.

He was bench pressing nearly triple Codie’s body weight.

My eyes strayed to the redhead and our gazes clashed.

She didn’t look like she gave one single shit about me. Her eyes, though I saw recognition there, looked as if they were watching a boring movie. As if she’d seen a man like me a hundred times before and she found me lacking.

I barely contained my grin.

I liked that she wasn’t impressed with my muscles. Even more, I liked that she wasn’t one of those chicks that felt it necessary to fuck around at the gym.

The gym was a serious place. It wasn’t a place to take selfies and walk out looking pretty. If you aren’t sweating and about to die as you walk out of the gym, you didn’t try hard enough.

I also liked that, though she was wearing nicer clothes, she wasn’t dressed to impress. She was dressed to work out. Her fiery-red hair was pulled back into a messy bun.

Her eyes looked bright green today. Yesterday they looked almost dull in the diner.

And her freckled face looked flushed and sheeted with a thin layer of sweat—almost like she would look if I was fucking her. Settled between her splayed thighs, pounding into her soft heat…

“Do you want to go to lunch with us?” Desi blurted.

My eyes flicked to Ace, who looked more than agreeable, then back to Desi.

“Sure,” I agreed, zero hesitation in me whatsoever.

And that was how I found myself in a restaurant thirty minutes later, once again sitting next to the woman that was soft and sweet and smelled so fucking good my dick had found a new permanent state of hardness.

***

“How long do you think they’ll keep staring?” I asked conversationally.

Codie, our surly little neighbor who for some reason was trying really hard to act like she didn’t want to be there, was the one who answered the question.

“Until we leave,” Codie answered. “They seem to have a problem with you and her sitting next to each other.”

I wanted to head home. As much as I was enjoying lunch, I was about to fall asleep on my feet—or my ass seeing as I was still sitting down. I’d been up since well before four this morning.

Nightmares had once again woken me up earlier than I would’ve liked to be woken. Nightmares that were a constant ever since we’d moved back home.

Years ago, when we were children, my father had decided that his family deserved to die. He tied each of us up to a kitchen chair. Then, once he had us all in our spots, he’d shot each one of us. Seven kids plus my mother. Then, to make sure we were really fucked, he set the house on fire with us in it, then finished himself off by blowing out his brains.

Two of my brothers, Foss and Eden, had died. They were too young to survive something like that.

Darby, Ace, Banks—my twin—and I would’ve died, too, if it wasn’t for my sister. She’d somehow gotten herself free of the zip ties that’d been holding her to the chair. From there, she’d gotten each of us free and helped us outside before the flames could touch us.