Hunter Bailey was pristine, elegant, and old, like a museum where you were told to be quiet and not touch anything.
I shook my head, befuddled. “I’m lost. What do you mean?”
He let out a sigh, tipping his chin down and looking at me like his patience was wearing thin. “This is Hunter-Bailey, an exclusive men’s club, Rika,” he explained. “A place where guys go to work out, swim, steam, drink, and bullshit away from all the people that bug the shit out of them.”
Bug the shit out of them?
“Like women?” I guessed.
He just stared at me, holding the strap of his bag with his head slightly cocked.
“So…” I looked around and then back to him, “women aren’t actually allowed in here then?”
“Nope.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s completely ridiculous.”
No wonder the clerk had looked at me so funny. Why didn’t they post a sign outside saying No Women Allowed then?
But…I guessed that would probably just make women want to come in more.
Michael stepped up to me. “When women get to enjoy Ladies Night Out specials or their own private workout area at a gym, it’s okay, but when a guy wants their own space, it’s archaic?”
I held his hazel eyes, the golden amber in them taunting and playing with me like a cat with a mouse. He had a point, and he knew it. It was okay for men to want their own space. No harm. No foul.
But it aggravated me that they offered something I enjoyed and I was shut out.
I shrugged. “I just wanted to fence, and this town is limited as far as facilities go, so...”
“So I’m sorry more women don’t take an interest for you to have your own club,” he replied flatly, sounding not the least bit sorry. “Now it’s raining outside. Do you need a ride back to Delcour?”
I dropped my gaze, noticing the small, dark splotches on his shoulders. The rain must’ve started right after I’d stepped inside.
I shook my head, seeing very clearly that he was trying to get rid of me.
“Fine.” He veered around me to the wooden double doors, and I took a step, ready to leave. But then I spotted a tweed ivy cap sitting on a stack of antique books on top of a curio cabinet.
I smiled, biting my bottom lip, because I couldn’t stop myself. Without hesitating, I dropped my bag on the floor, ran over and snatched up the cap, and then darted up the stairs, taking two at a time as I stuck the hat on my head. I stuffed my ponytail inside, hiding my hair underneath the hat.
“Erika!” Michael’s voice boomed behind me.
But I didn’t stop. My heart raced, and I squeezed my fists, the adrenaline making them tingle. Reaching the second floor, I darted around the corner, quickly stuffing any stray hairs up underneath the cap and hurrying down the hall.
I heard the stairs creek behind me, and I glanced back, not seeing Michael but hearing his footfalls as he powered after me.
Shit. I almost laughed, remember all those years ago when he’d found me at the catacombs. He liked my curiosity then, I think, and even had fun indulging me. And then immediately after that night he pulled back as if nothing had happened.
Maybe he’d remember.
I speed-walked down the hall, hearing banter and laughter around me as I passed several open doors. But I didn’t stop to look.
Two men in suits, one of them holding a cigar, came in my direction down the hall, laughing with each other. I dipped my head, knowing that my figure did nothing to disguise that I was a woman.
Passing them by, I saw one do a double take out of the corner of my eye, but he didn’t stop me.
Reaching the end of the hall, I opened the door and entered, quickly closing it behind me. I let out a breath, not knowing if Michael saw where I went, but I didn’t mind him finding me, anyway. That was the point, after all.
Turning around, I noticed a boxing ring sitting in the center of the room. It was surrounded by a variety of equipment and punching bags, as well as fifteen or so men, working out, sparring, and chatting. I quickly stepped behind one of the many columns spread throughout the room, looking around the corner to make sure no one had seen me.