Ten Tiny Breaths (Ten Tiny Breaths #1)(25)

Trent walks over to Livie and thrusts out a hand. “Hi, I’m Trent. We haven’t met formally.”

Whatever rage Livie had running through her veins has extinguished, leaving her blushing and as awkward as a tittering twelve year old. She shakes his hand quickly before recoiling as if she might get pregnant with the touch, her eyes avoiding anything to do with his half-open shirt and that gorgeous toned body underneath. I grin inwardly. My chaste Livie.

Trent introduces himself to Storm next. She blushes sweetly and an unwarranted stab of jealousy pricks me. When he moves on to Mia hiding behind Storm’s legs, I catch Storm’s exaggerated wink of approval. I roll my eyes.

“And you must be Princess Mia? I’ve heard about you.”

Her lips pucker and she leans out just a bit further from Storm’s cover. “You have?”

He nods. “Well, I heard about a Princess Mia who likes ice cream. That must be you, right?”

She nods slowly and whispers, “Did you hear that, Mommy? People know I’m a princess!”

Everyone laughs. Everyone but me. I’m too busy fighting this internal battle inside that tells me I must resist this charm. It’s all an act. He’s no good for me.

Actually, that’s not it at all, I hate to admit.

The problem is that I know he’s too good for me.

Trent stands up to face me. “You going to be okay?”

Always so concerned about me. I nod, my arms folding over my chest as I look down at my robe, fidgeting awkwardly under that scrutinizing gaze of his, remembering the feel of his body pressed against mine. And that he pulled me from the shower, buck naked and cowering.

All kinds of humiliation roils through me now.

I’m not sure if my discomfort registers with Trent, but he takes a few steps back, his hand pushing back through his hair. “Well, I’ll see you guys around.” He winks at me. “Need to wash off all this soap. I hope my shower isn’t as eventful.”

“Yeah …” I mumble, feeling stupid, following his body move, quickly plotting how I can plant something in his shower so I have an excuse to bust down his door and jump in to save him. Not a snake. He doesn’t seem to be afraid of snakes. Maybe a gator. Yeah, there’re lots of those in Florida. Just a quick trip to the Everglades, I’ll find one, trap it, bring it back—

“Kacey?”

I snap back to the present with Storm’s voice, her brow arched as she looks at me, smirking. I’ve obviously missed a question. “What?”

“I’m sure Trent would love to have dinner with us as a thank you.” I see the gleam in her eye. She’s playing match maker.

I don’t like it.

Trent doesn’t want this mess.

“Do whatever you want. I’ll be at the gym,” I answer and my tone is an arctic breeze, freezing any mirth in the room. I spin on my heels and stalk back into my room before anyone can get a word in edgewise.

And I hate myself.

***

The Breaking Point is quieter than usual for late-afternoon, but I’m okay with that. I’m still reeling from today’s snake excitement. And Trent. I need my nice, quiet routine. I quickly stretch and get ready to start my rounds on the bag.

“Hey, Red!” Ben’s voice booms from behind.

Dammit. I turn to catch him just as his attention shifts up from my ass. “Ben.”

He strides around and grabs my bag for me. “You need a spotter?”

“I guess I’m getting one either way, aren’t I?” I grumble. But then his sly smirk makes me laugh for some reason, releasing the tension in my body. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

He shrugs. “I’m sure you can teach me.” Then he flashes that grin again, as he adds, “I prefer being in control but for you I can …”

Ben’s jabbering away with layers of innuendos and I stop listening. Just to teach him a lesson, I surprise him with a roundhouse kick. He grunts as the bag slams into his hip. “Consider that your first lesson. Shut up. Don’t talk to me while I’m working out.”

For the next fifteen minutes, I pound away at the bag with jabs and kicks and Ben does a half-decent job of shifting with the impact. If he talks, I don’t hear him. I’m zoned in on the sequence that propels me forward, hammering again and again, releasing all that anger with each hit.

Three idiots getting drunk one night.

Three murderers taking my life from me.

One. Two. Three.

Finally spent, I lean forward and support myself against my knees with my hands to catch my breath.

“Jeez, Kace.” I look up to see astonishment on Ben’s face. “I’ve never seen someone so completely dialed during rounds. You were like Ivan Drago. He’s this Russian who—”

I cut him off, reciting the line from Rocky IV with a mock Russian accent. “If he dies, he dies.” Another of my dad’s favs.

Ben’s head is bobbing, his brows arched with surprise. “You know that one.”

“Who doesn’t?” I can’t help but chuckle again. Soon we’re both laughing and I’m thinking Ben isn’t such a pompous ass after all.

That’s when a tall form walks past us and drops a sledge hammer down on my shields.

Trent.

My laughter dies, all traces of ease vanishing. Grabbing my water bottle, I try to hide my reaction from Ben by drawing a long swig, all the while watching Trent as he drops his stuff to the ground beside a speed bag and tugs his sweatshirt over his head by the back collar.