Between Commitment and Betrayal (Hardy Billionaire Brothers, #1)(20)

“No. I’m not going back to my hometown,” she ground out. “You underestimate me. You did that once before and it didn’t work out well for you, or don’t you remember?”

Yeah, I remembered that shit all right.



CARL’S estranged daughter stood in front of me at HEAT Health and Fitness after being given a tour and meeting my brothers. Everyone had accepted her with open arms except me. She was wringing her hands because she must have realized we didn’t hire just anyone at this gym. “I know this is weird. I really will get you a resume, and you can interview me if you’d like.”

Chewing my cheek, I figured I’d ask her a few questions. “You’ve taught in a gym before?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes, I like to teach and was taking classes in college. I—”

“Did you get a degree?” It was something all of my managers had.

“Well, no. But a bachelor’s degree isn’t going to make or break my skill set. You can get life experience as the equivalent.” She squared up with her reasoning, and then narrowed her bright-blue eyes at me. “Did you get a degree in football?”

She did know I was voted the NFL’s MVP for five consecutive years at one point during my career, right? “I’ve been playing football since I was five years old.”

“I’ve been doing yoga since I was three,” she shot back. “Are we hiring people based on a sheet of paper that says they did four years of some schoolwork?”

“If you’d interviewed, you’d know that’s not the only thing I base my hiring process on. You have experience in yoga. What else?” I countered, because now I was just fucking annoyed. She had to be ten years younger than me, and she was questioning how I hired people?

She took her time looking me up and down. “I’m great with kids’ yoga too. Don’t forget self-defense. I’m happy to teach that too. You’re twice my size, but I could easily bring you to your knees.”

“Wanna bet?” My competitive streak was problematic, I admit. “You can have the yoga instructor job. If you bring me to my knees, I’ll give you the self-defense position too.”

“Great.” She smiled wide and it was like I was seeing her for the first time, because that smile alone was capable of bringing a man to his knees. Her eyes scrunched up, her cheekbones rounded, and a pair of dimples showed that made her cute and sexy at the same time.

Cute and lethal.

She’d wreck a heart or two with it, I was sure. Mine just wouldn’t be one of them.

She spun on a running shoe heel and beelined to the door. “I already put my duffel in a locker. Saw a few things. The ring in the middle of the gym is a nice touch. Shall we go there so I can earn my place?”

“Whoa. Take it down a notch, Rocky,” I chuckled out.

She turned to tilt her head at me. “Rocky?”

“You don’t know Rocky?”

She scrunched her little nose.

Fuck. That solidified it. She was young. Too young. It was like a bucket of ice-cold water was

thrown on my overactive dick.

“He’s the legendary boxer in the movies of the same name!” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How old are you?”

“Oh, I don’t think ageism can be part of an interview.” She smiled softly. “Plus, it’s not an age thing. My mom and I didn’t have a TV or go to the movies growing up.” She shrugged like it was normal and then continued out the door.

“Didn’t have a TV?” I almost tripped over myself at her admission.

“Are you giving me a tour before or after we get into the wrestling ring?”

“Before. You’re going to be too tired after.” Because her ass wasn’t going to knock me to the ground. “Now, you won’t be on this floor a lot. Except for management meetings and large clients, we barely use it. If you have a question, though, the HR department is down the hall, my office is at the end of it. Although, I’m not in there much.”

I pointed to the elevators and pressed the button. Almost immediately, the doors slid open for her to walk in. “I never liked an office anyway.”

“Why?”

“My father belonged in one, and my mother and I didn’t.” The statement wasn’t one of pain or animosity. It’s like Everly knew where she belonged. Most people tried to claw their way into a group that didn’t want them. They tortured themselves to be a part of something they weren’t, only to find they would have been happier if they’d found the right fit in the first place. I’d tried it with other sports, other positions, other careers. But Michael Jordan didn’t belong in baseball, he belonged in basketball.

We waited quietly in the elevator until the doors opened. I waved her forward so we could walk the premises. A few clients stopped their lifting to walk over and introduce themselves. Everly practically preened. “I’m so excited to get started. It seems you have a wonderful clientele.”

“If you say so,” I grumbled as I cracked my knuckles, and we went around the other side of the gym to the wrestling ring.

When she got up to it, she dove under the rope so effortlessly, I started to consider whether or not she had some skill. “Want some protective gear?”

“For what? You going to hit me?” She feigned a pout and fluttered her lashes like she was making fun of those she’d seen use that tactic.