Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats #6)(17)

He snorted. “Just stay. You’ve earned Caleb’s respect, so he’s good with your hanging out, as long as you don’t interfere with any private training.”

“I won’t.” She seemed so earnest, so eager, he couldn’t see denying her anything. She could have asked for a puppy, a million dollars and his Mustang, and he would have caved like a cheap suitcase.

“Then… okay.” He ran a hand over his hair, fighting the urge to stay and see her through the workout. He’d never missed a meeting in his life. He wasn’t going to start now.

But the way she bounced over to the dead lift bar… made him reconsider.





Chapter 5





Kat let the dead lift bar settle gently on the mat before straightening her back and arching just a little to stretch. They were great for the legs… but man, she needed a massage. A good, hard muscle one, not one of those wimpy ones with hot stones and soft music. Maybe she could pay one of the Bobcat trainers to give her a good, hard rubdown after hours, off the books.

She snickered in her head. That sounded entirely unprofessional, though she meant it exactly as it sounded.

“What’s the deal with you and Lambert?”

Kat turned to find a lean man only about an inch taller than her standing nearby, looking mildly curious but equally unconcerned about her presence in the weight room. Men could be picky about women around the weight room, she’d learned. Stupid but true. But most of them had left her alone, watching from a distance but not interfering with her workout. And also not hitting on her or making lewd comments as she bent over to grab a weight or a safety clip.

She appreciated that more than anything.

“Nothing,” she said easily, grabbing the towel the coach named Caleb had offered her earlier. She wiped down her hands and wrists, then headed over to the calf press machine.

The curious bystander followed, resting his shoulder on the wall in front of the machine so she couldn’t miss him. She rolled her eyes and started to look for the right size weights to add. When he did nothing, she sighed. “If you’re going to watch me like a performing zoo animal, could you at least add a twenty-five to that side?”

His dark eyebrows winged up momentarily, but he shrugged and added them. “Really though, he brought you with him for a reason. What’s the deal? You’re not his sister.”

“Nope,” she said, grunting a little as she lifted the weight above her shoulder. It was the awkward angle, not the pounds that made her struggle. But the stranger didn’t offer to share the burden, which she approved of. After she got the weight on and clipped, she double checked his side to be sure it was properly secured.

He scowled at her.

She smiled sweetly. “Just checking.”

“I know how to put a weight on a bar,” he said under his breath.

“How was I supposed to know that? Safety first,” she chirped, then stepped onto the riser and let the bar and padding settle comfortably over her shoulder blades.

“What’s the connection?”

“Agent,” she finally said, then twisted her hands to unrack the bar and began a set of twelve presses with her calves. This one was hard because she always had the instinct to bounce. It took effort and concentration to make the motions of lowering her heels toward the ground smooth and deliberate.

“Your agent hooked you up.”

She racked the bar and stepped forward, still on the riser, which made her an inch taller than the annoying man. Before answering, she surveyed him a moment. Skin that was darker than a tan, probably indicating multiple ethnicities in his genealogy, dark hair that was buzzed nearly to the shape of his head, and eyes that were sharp and such a deep brown they nearly blended in with the pupils. Fit, of course, but not overly tall. Lean rather than muscular. Built for speed, she guessed.

“Running back?”

“Receiver,” he corrected, looking surprised. “Bobcats fan?”

She laughed and shook her head before taking her place under the bar. Before she unracked, she added, “Football is a mystery to me. But it was a shot in the dark. You weren’t going to be a lineman. And everyone knows who the quarterback is even if you hate the sport. Trey Owens is known by all.”

As she went through her next set of twelve, he surveyed her. But she had a feeling it was less about sexual appreciation and more about judging her worthiness.

“So you’re, what, a workout partner?”

“Something… like that,” she said with some effort, racking the bar and stepping out from under it. “What does it matter?”

“Because I like to know who I’m working out with.” His smile wasn’t cocky, exactly, but it wasn’t all that friendly either.

“I’m not distracting anyone, and I’m not in your way.”

“You’re here.”

“So what? Afraid I’m going to press more than you and make you look bad?” She patted his shoulder in a there, there gesture and got ready for her last set of calf raises. When she finished and started taking the weights off the right side, she was surprised when he unclipped and removed the weights on the left.

“Are you saying you could press more than me?”

She laughed again. “That would be ridiculous. Hard as I train, biologically that’s unlikely. But,” she added because she couldn’t resist, “strength isn’t the only thing that counts in the game.”