All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)(7)

She glanced toward the punching bag in the corner and wondered if she should try to take out her indecision on something less human. Before she could decide, the man in question walked into her gym and threatened to ruin her entire day.

She felt the subtle ripple go through the building before she saw Clay. A group of women leaving the aerobics room stopped as one and turned to watch him. He walked by the free-weight alcove on his way to the cardio equipment and everyone else in the gym turned to watch. Charlie found herself just as mesmerized by the long, muscled legs and strong arms.

He wore exactly what every other guy wore. Shorts and an old T-shirt. Yet he stood out. Maybe it was the way he walked or the power in his shoulders. Maybe it was that indefinable something that had made him so successful. Whatever, she would swear she heard every woman within two hundred feet sigh.

Clay walked to one of the treadmills. He put in earbuds and flicked on his iPod, then started the machine. Within a minute, he was jogging. Five minutes later, he set a pace that would have challenged her on her best day.

Charlie returned to the rest of her workout. As she finished up with triceps work, she was aware of him just out of view. The loud music in the gym meant she couldn’t hear the pounding of his feet on the treadmill, but she imagined the steady beat and felt herself drawn to both it and the man.

She set the weight back on the rack and faced the truth. When it came to Clay, she’d made assumptions. People had done that to her all her life. They’d taken one look at her too-tall self, at her big feet and strength and thought they knew who she was. Especially after the rape.

She’d always prided herself on being better than that, on getting to know a person, but somehow she’d forgotten. Or she’d been blinded by his appearance. Presumed he couldn’t do the hard work of becoming a firefighter because of what he was rather than who. In her world, those were fighting words.

Aware that there was only one solution, she wiped her face again and walked toward the treadmills. She circled around so she came at Clay straight on, her gaze meeting his.

He didn’t look away. He also didn’t smile. He kept running, his long legs moving with practiced ease, chewing up the miles. When she stopped in front of the machine, he straddled it and hit the stop button. Then he pulled free the earbuds and waited.

She cleared her throat. “I was, ah, thinking. About what you said before.”

His dark eyes were like his brothers’ but without the friendly welcome she usually got from Rafe or Shane. Guilt made her shift in place.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I was wrong. Is that what you want to hear? I judged you unfairly. I don’t usually but you’re not like other people.”

“Is that your idea of an apology?”

“Yes, and you should accept it because it doesn’t happen often.”

“I can tell. You need practice.”

“Bite me,” she growled, then winced when she realized he might take that wrong. “We are starting a class for volunteers,” she added quickly, before he could speak. “It will cover CPAT preparedness. Oh, CPAT stands for—”

“Candidate Physical Ability Test. I’ve done my research.”

“Good. Then you know you’ll need to pass it before you can start training. I run the classes.”

“Lucky me.”

She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not but decided not to ask. “If you’re interested in applying, you should. I’ll tell you that the volunteers are well prepared and we have high expectations. If you’re willing to do the work and be dedicated, then there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Do I get a break because you owe me?”

“No. I don’t owe you and no one gets a break.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Just checking.”

“I can’t be bought.”

“Neither can I.”

She huffed out a breath. “The applications are online. The class starts next week.”

“Think you’ll enjoy kicking my ass?”

She grinned. “Oh, yeah. I run a tough class. But over ninety percent of the candidates who complete my training pass the test.” Her smile faded. “People probably assume a lot of things about you, don’t they?”

“All the time.”

“I’ll do my best not to let it happen again.”

“Taking me on as a project?”

“Hardly.” He wouldn’t need her help for anything. “I believe in being fair. Plus, I don’t like it when people judge me. Like I said, you’re welcome to apply.”

“Thanks,” he said and smiled.

The flash of thousand-watt attention caused a distinct clenching low in her belly. She mumbled something that she hoped sounded like “Goodbye” and made her escape.

Once safely in the women’s locker room, she sank onto a bench and held her head in her hands. Even she knew that a clench was much, much worse than a flicker. She could only hope that Clay was a busy guy and totally forgot about applying. Otherwise, she was going to have to face him twice a week for the next eight weeks.

And not just in a “Hi, how are you” kind of way. They would be spending serious time together, working out together. There might even be touching.

Aware that anyone could walk into the locker room at any second, she refrained from banging her head against the wall, even though it seemed like the best plan on the table. Attracted to Clay? Talk about a stupid move.