Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats #6)(34)
“Whatever. Transportation isn’t my problem. Freedom to train without some husband or boyfriend or Hulk breathing down my neck is.”
“No,” she protested quickly. “Definitely not my boyfriend or husband.”
Did you have to deny it so damn fast? Give a guy a complex.
“Good.” De’Shawn settled back against the wall, legs stretched. “I don’t have professional athletes you can call up for references. That’s my brother’s thing. He thinks I need a boost to my training business. I think he should mind his own damn business.”
“I don’t need professional references. I need results. That’s what matters.”
Her voice was so firm, so final, Michael wouldn’t have doubted her if she’d told him the sky was turning purple with orange polka dots.
“My favorite.” The younger man smiled for the first time. “I’m not conventional. I might ask you to do things you haven’t done before.”
“Do the same things over and over, get the same results. I’m getting shitty results. Time to change the recipe.”
De’Shawn leaned forward a little. “You sure he ain’t your boyfriend? ’Cause I might be falling in love a little here.”
“He’s not a part of my training,” Kat said firmly.
Why did that sting just a little? Irrational, since Michael would never expect her to be a part of his. Where was this proprietary feeling coming from? He had no say in her life, in her training, in her choices. His job was to keep her out of too much trouble. He didn’t need to take on added responsibilities.
“I’m waiting in the car,” he said, interrupting the two as they continued to talk. Kat nodded and waved without looking away from her new trainer.
With a grumble, Michael headed for the car.
“And then he talked about doing hikes. I’ve never been much of an outdoorsy sort of girl,” Kat added as she followed Michael into his apartment two hours later. “But I think I could do it.”
He closed the door behind her harder than necessary, locking it. “How are you not an outdoorsy girl? You play tennis outdoors.”
“Yeah, but I’d be perfectly fine if they moved all future Grand Slams inside. And playing on a clay court or extremely short, treated ‘grass’ is hardly the great outdoors. It’s completely sanitary. The worst element I have to battle is the sun in my eyes,” she pointed out, watching his body fight the tension that had held it stiff all evening. From the moment she’d gotten in the car, he’d been about as chatty and flexible as a two-by-four. “But De’Shawn says by only working out inside, I’m killing my oneness with my environment. And I need to accept the inevitable and acclimate.”
“Did he.” It wasn’t a question. Michael headed for the kitchen. She followed at a safe distance, sitting on one of the stools that sat at the half wall separating the kitchen counter from the eat-in dining area.
“Yes, he did. He thinks I’ve been way too regimented in my workouts to date. That I’m not getting better because I’m not pushing myself. Adding weight to a bar is one thing, but that’s only going to be good if I’m in a weight lifting competition. I have to challenge my muscles in new and unique ways. Rope climbing, obstacles courses, that sort of thing. So I can be ready for anything.”
“Hmm.” He dug out a water, held it over his shoulder. She shook her head. Closing the fridge with his hip, he cracked open the bottle and chugged.
It was pretty unfair he looked so good when he was pissed off. And there was no doubt about it, he was pissed. But at her? Or something else…
It shouldn’t matter much. He was her mentor, sort of, and she was basically here until called out of exile. Or until the Australian Open in January. There was no way Sawyer would ask her to miss that. No way she could afford to.
But for some reason… it mattered. It pulled at her to find out. To fix whatever was irritating him, pissing him off. Making him not smile, because he had a gorgeous smile.
To dig a little, she continued, “I think next week we’re going to start with the rock wall.”
“And when you break your arm falling off the wall, is De’Shawn going to be the savior that fixes that too? This is insanity,” he added, his voice rising with each sentence. “I just watched my good friend and team captain miss our entire preseason and several of our games because he went parasailing or something and landed wrong.”
He was referring to Trey Owens, she knew. “I’m sorry your friend got hurt—”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s not the point. The fact is, you have to be careful when you make a living with your body.”
“Oh, you think I don’t know that?” She stood now, feeling his anger bleeding into her. Poisoning her good mood. That only added fuel to her enraged fire. “You think I don’t know the ramifications of making a living with my body and what that means? How every time I bend, something snaps, crackles, or pops like a bowl of cereal? How every time I feel a twinge in my muscles, I worry it’s going to put me out of commission for weeks, setting me back months that I can’t afford to be set back? I get it!”
“So why are you taking risks?” he thundered, stepping right up to her, staring down into her face. “Why are you doing this?”