Chasing Shadows (First Wives #3)(11)

“Whatever!” Avery released the tie that held her hair back and shook her head. She stormed out of the gym and into the locker room. Liam found his feet following.

“Leave her alone.”

Yeah, Liam wasn’t one to follow orders.





Chapter Five

With both hands on the lockers and her head hanging between her shoulders, Avery attempted to push back her anger.

She had him.

Twice.

She shoved her fist into the locker, accepted the pain that came with it.

“Hey.”

It was him, the man who proved Brenda right. “Girls’ locker room. Or can’t you read?”

He didn’t respond and didn’t leave. She could feel his eyes staring at the back of her head.

“No one likes a sore loser.”

Avery twisted on her heel. “I took you.”

He hunched his shoulders. “Surprise is something you can only use once.”

“Twice.”

He chuckled.

The anger inside of her started to ebb, and she voiced what she’d been thinking since she saw him watching her warm up. “Were you at the bar the other night?”

Was that a smile? “What bar?”

“One block up?”

“Pug’s Pub?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been there. You don’t seem the type to go to Pug’s.”

She closed her eyes and turned her back to him. “And what type is that?” She twisted the combination on her lock and pulled her bag from the locker.

When he didn’t immediately answer, she looked at him.

“Let’s see . . . the women at Pug’s haven’t had a manicure in a long time, therefore the color of their nail polish would be red. Yours is beige. Highlights in your hair . . .” He glanced at her bag. “Is that Gucci?”

“I don’t know a lot of heterosexual men who know Gucci from Walmart.”

He winced. “That would hurt, except I have a Gucci-style sister and I’m as hetero as they come.”

She turned toward the locker, removed her Prada handbag, and stuffed it into her Gucci duffel. Heat boiled in her veins.

“I came in here to see if you were okay.”

She lifted a hand in the air without turning around. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, hell . . . Did I do that?” He took a step closer and touched her arm.

Avery twisted like a cornered cat and nearly struck out.

Mr. Handyman stepped back and stared at her arm.

Tiny purple bruises emerged where he’d pinned her hands to the mat.

“I’m fine.” She pulled her hands away. “Part of the deal with these classes.”

He shook his head. “Years of my mother telling me not to hurt girls makes this everything but okay. I was here to put up shelving, not manhandle the students.”

She took one step toward him and looked up. He did have half a head on her. “Well, be sure and tell your mother that you’re keeping your promises.”

“I’m obviously not.”

She considered him for a brief moment, his size, the actual concern in his eyes. “Did you let me win?”

He pointed a thumb behind him at the closed door. “Back there?”

“Yeah. Did you hear your mother’s voice and let go?”

He shook his head. “Much as I hate to admit it . . . no.”

At least she had that.

“But Brenda’s right. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. And my guess is, the only kind of man you’d have to use those moves on isn’t trying to be your friend.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“So what’s the issue? Why not practice with men twice your size more often?”

She closed her eyes, thought of the recurring dreams she’d had ever since her face had met the bottom of someone’s boot. “I have my reasons.” She reached for her bag, hiked it up on her shoulder, and closed the locker behind her.

“Then why did you let me join in?”

“Because you don’t look like—” Avery stopped short and quickly diverted her eyes. Him.

“Oh . . .”

“It isn’t what you think.”

“I call bullshit.”

Avery shook her head. “Usually I know the people insulting me or calling me a liar.”

“I haven’t insulted you. But you are lying and you know it. Which is why the defensive hair is probably spiked on the back of your neck.”

“So you’re a therapist and a handyman?”

“My sister is a crisis counselor. I guess some things wear off at our family dinners.”

Avery wondered what it felt like to have a weekly dinner with someone she admired enough to pick up some of their habits. “Well, you’ll forgive me for not paying for your little session here.” On some level Avery knew she was channeling her inner bitch and taking it out on this hulk of a stranger. The corner she felt herself being pushed into was as uncomfortable as wool in summer.

She took a step toward the door, and he stood in front of her.

Her feet froze.

“My name is Liam. Let me buy you a drink.”

She blinked several times. “Are you trying to pick me up?”