Takedown Teague (Caged #1)(43)

As soon as I arrived, I went straight for the squat rack. I started with my legs, back, and triceps. I went a whole circuit three times before heading to a bench to work out my core. Once that was done, I headed back to the weight benches to do some shoulders and biceps.

I knew most of the guys there, and we shot the shit as we lifted and boasted about how many reps we could do or how much so-and-so lifted last week. It was typical bullshit but mildly entertaining as well. I was laughing at the mental image described by of one of the guys who had tried one of those exercise ball classes and rolled over onto his ass in front of a room full of chicks, which was when Yolanda came in. She was already glaring at me, and I rolled my eyes as she approached and kept my focus on the weights in my hands.

“So you want to explain why you blew me off yesterday?” Yolanda asked.

“I had shit to do,” I replied. I continued to alternate hands—lifting each weight up to my chest and then back down to my hip again—and didn’t look at her.

“What kind of shit?’’ Yolanda pressed.

“I was helping my neighbor move,” I said nonchalantly.

Yolanda laughed.

“Since when are you such a do-gooder?”

I just shrugged and continued with the weights.

“What neighbor?” she asked.

I took in a long breath and blew it out my nose. I had the distinct feeling there was no getting out of this conversation with her, so I decided to just spit it out.

“Tria.”

More laughter.

“So, was it a tearful goodbye when the damsel in distress moved out?”

Glancing over at her, I narrowed my eyes a little.

“No,” I replied. I set the weights down and moved over to the mat on the floor for crunches. “She didn’t leave the building, just switched apartments.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She lost her job,” I told her. “She couldn’t afford that place on her own anymore. This shit really isn’t any of your business, you know.”

“What did you do?” Yolanda continued to question me. “Move her in with the nutcase that lives next to you?”

“No.” As much as I wanted to get out of this conversation, I knew my delay tactics weren’t going to work on her. Yolanda had a knack for knowing when I was stalling, and she always managed to cut through the bullshit. As I glanced up at her, I saw her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised, so I gave up. “She moved in with me.”

Dead silence for at least twenty crunches.

“She did what?”

Yolanda dropped her chin and looked at me from the top of her eyes as I brought my elbow up to touch the opposite knee, then moved back to the mat, then did the same on the other side.

“Moved in with me,” I repeated without pausing. Yolanda continued to just stare at me until I finally stopped and rested my arms over my knees. “What?”

“You let a chick move in with you?”

“Yeah.”

“You,” she stated as she pointed a finger at me, “Takedown Teague, let a chick move into your apartment.”

I couldn’t help but notice the other guys had gone a little quiet and were listening intently to the conversation. Fucking awesome.

Note sarcasm.

“She needed a place to stay.” I responded with a shrug, hauled myself up, and headed over to the heavy bag—which was also out of earshot of the rest of the gym rats—to throw some punches. Yolanda moved to the opposite side and braced the bag for me.

“And you figured you’d just let her move in with you?”

“Yep.” I slammed a fist into the bag, spun in a circle, then hit it with the other hand.

“So, you are f*cking her,” Yolanda stated.

“I am not.” I corrected her through grunts as I punched. “It’s not like that. She’s not like that.”

“You have a one-bedroom apartment,” Yolanda said as if I hadn’t noticed.

Well, I guess I didn’t notice right away.

“Where is she sleeping?”

“In the bed,” I said with another shrug.

“With you.” The smile on her face was starting to piss me off. “So you are sleeping with her.”

“We slept in the same bed,” I growled before slamming my fist hard enough into the bag to knock Yolanda a little off balance. “I’m not sleeping with her. I told you; she’s not like that.”

Turning away from her, I moved over to the weight bench and sat down. Yolanda walked up to me slowly, still smiling.

“I bet your balls are the color of the sky,” she said with another laugh.

“Nice,” I mumbled as I lay down on the bench and braced my hands on the bar.

Yolanda moved behind me and signaled to a big guy with arms about the size of my thighs. She helped me lift the barbells up, but he took her place to spot me. As soon as she let go, I knew why—they were f*cking heavy, and I had difficulty with the first press.

“What the f*ck did you put on these?” I gasped.

“Three fifty,” she replied. “So when are you going to admit that you’re into her?”

“Fuck you.” I grunted under my breath as I brought the bar to my chest and pressed up again. It was a good twenty-five pounds over my usual max, and it wasn’t easy. I could barely speak. “You…trying…to kill me here?”