Outmatched

The man’s eyes danced with laughter. “Good to know. I’m Carlos. Can I help?”

I glanced down at the contract in my hand before being compelled to look into Carlos’s eyes again. Seriously, I thought Rhys had beautiful eyes, but this guy could give him a run for his money. “I’m here to see Rhys Morgan. He’s expecting me.”

Carlos grinned. “Are you Parker?”

“That’s me.”

He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m a trainer here.”

Carlos’s hand was calloused and strong. It was very nice to touch. I returned his smile. “You too.”

“This way.” He indicated with his head toward the left. Carlos led me out of the main gym into a small hall that housed an elevator and a stairwell. “He’s on the second floor where the boxing gym is.”

We took the stairs, and I followed the trainer into a space similar to downstairs except half of it was taken up by two boxing rings. There was a class being taught in the clear side of the space, and as we walked past, I recognized the martial art as capoeira. Interesting. I wondered if Rhys knew capoeira. That would be a sight to see.

At the sound of Rhys’s familiar, booming voice, my eyes flew in his direction. He was standing outside one of the boxing rings, shouting instructions at two young men who wore nothing but long shorts and boxing gear.

My gaze drifted down Rhys’s back. My lower belly fluttered.

It was just nerves.

The guy was an intimidating specimen. So tall. Much taller than Carlos who I put at around five foot ten. Even that was tall for me. I only stood at five foot two. Hence why I’d put a “No Tinker Bell” clause in the contract for Rhys.

Rude!

Unless I’d misread his reasons for calling me that. Tink was loyal and adorably feisty.

But that was beside the point.

My eyes glanced off the well-developed muscles revealed by the basketball tank Rhys wore and the way his joggers cupped his firm, high, and very muscular ass. There wasn’t an inch of fat on the guy.

“Rhys. Company!” Carlos yelled as we approached.

The man himself turned around, and I felt the breath expel from my body as his intense gaze drank me in. As he took in my low-heeled T-bar shoes, pleated pale blue skirt, and black Ted Baker shirt with its little jeweled bow tie, a frown deepened between his brows. I didn’t care what he thought of my appearance. I thought I looked cute. That’s all that mattered. It’s not as if I thought much of his appearance.

Okay, so I could admit that he was attractive in that caveman, overtly masculine, alpha-male kind of way that some women found appealing.

I wasn’t one of them.

I was above that sort of primal need for power and strength in my chosen mate.

At least I was determined to be.

A guy had to be funny and thoughtful above anything else. Plus, I liked my men short and cute. Not intimidating and so tall they’d have to lift me up to kiss me.

An image of Rhys doing just that flashed through my mind and I expelled it with such force, I almost said the word “blech” out loud.

Sure enough, Rhys frowned as we drew to a halt in front of him. “You okay, Tinker Bell? Does boxing offend your fragile sensibilities?”

I scowled at his sarcasm. “Why would you say that?”

“Because you look like you just swallowed something nasty.”

“Nope.” I shrugged. “Although you should know that when I googled this place, hardly any information came up. You need a website. Or at least a Facebook page.”

Rhys cut Carlos a look. “What did I tell you? She’s already fucking dispensing business advice.”

Carlos smirked. “She’s not wrong, is she?”

I grinned at Carlos, and suddenly Rhys took hold of my biceps, his expression fierce. “We’ll be in the office.”

“You don’t need to manhandle me,” I grumbled as he led me across the gym. He opened a door to a narrow corridor, hurried us down it, and then pushed open another door that led into an office.

There was a beautiful and impressive rosewood desk in the center of the room, completely at odds with the chaos of the rest of the space. There were wall-to-wall shelves filled with folders and files spilling out here and there.

The urge to advise him to put in a proper filing system was real, but I considered his reaction to my earlier advice and replaced the words with, “Nice desk.”

He grunted and moved around me to sit on it. The desk was expansive. Yet somehow, he dwarfed it.

My goodness, I forgot how big he was.

Rhys’s eyes dipped to the papers in my hand. “I’m guessing that’s the contract.”

“Yes.” I held it out. “Hopefully, everything within it is acceptable to you.”

Without saying a word, or offering me a seat, he began to read through it. After a few minutes, he reached behind him for a pen and scored across the paper.