Lord Have Mercy (The Southern Gentleman #2)(12)

Flint stood, and Croft offered me his hand.

I ignored it and rolled over the top of Raleigh until I was on the opposite side of the mat from Croft.

When I stood and turned, it was to find Flint’s lips twitching in amusement, and him standing next to the whiteboard from hell.

The whiteboard from hell had our day’s work out on it—better known as our WOD.

Croft came to stand beside me on one side, and Raleigh went to the other.

Flint didn’t miss it, either.

His eyes were on me more than they were on anybody else in the room as he explained what we were going to do.

Nivea, who was for some reason standing right behind me, hissed.

I looked over my shoulder at her and blinked. “What?”

Croft, who was listening to Flint talk, moved farther away from me and forward, likely because he didn’t want to be near Nivea any more than I did.

“We broke up an hour ago, and he’s already setting his sights on you?” she snarled under her breath. “This isn’t a new thing, is it? This is something that’s been going on for a long time.”

Croft inched away even farther.

There was no way in hell he didn’t hear our discussion.

I frowned. “Um, no. We’re not even together, Nivea. So rest easy and simmer down. Calm your tits. Take the wind out of your sails. What-the-fuck ever.”

I turned around and faced forward again, finding Flint’s eyes flicking back and forth between me and Nivea.

His frown deepened, and his eyes went hard.

I stepped farther away from her and crowded closer to Raleigh, who looked at me oddly.

“What?” she whispered.

“Psycho, five o’clock,” I told her.

Raleigh looked over my shoulder, rolled her lip up in a curl of disgust, and then pulled me with her to the opposite side of the huddle.

“Do you know how to do double unders?” she whispered, hearing the last part of Flint’s workout.

“No,” I paused. “I was a baller at Jump Rope for Heart in elementary school, though. I feel like it’ll be pretty easy.”

I was wrong.

It was hard as hell.

The worst part about it, though, was that Nivea was really good at it, and laughed at me each time the rope got caught up in my feet.

By the time the workout was over, I looked like a sweating swamp thing while she looked like a beauty queen who’d gone outside for only a few seconds and had a nice sheen of sweat on her.

I wanted to throat punch her.

“Whoa there, killer,” Carmichael said, touching my arm. “That look probably should not have a place in this gym.”

I snorted. “That woman drives me insane,” I told her bluntly. “And the fact that she makes this all look easy drives me nuts.”

Carmichael snorted. “Don’t let her fool you. She was bad at first, too. She just really liked Flint, and he wouldn’t have anything to do with her at first. She started here at the gym in hopes that he would notice her, and he took the bait. For a couple months, at least. Now I’m thinking he regrets it.”

The gym started to empty all around us, and Raleigh groaned and rolled over.

Her body left a sweaty imprint on the floor.

“Nice,” I laughed.

She flipped me off as she came to her feet. “I’m going to go. Ezra’s supposed to get off early today, but I doubt it. But just in case, I want to be there when he gets home.”

Croft threw his arm around her shoulders and squeezed, causing her to squeak in pain. “Croft, you fucker!”

Croft and Raleigh walked out with laughter on their faces.

I turned to survey Carmichael.

“I know that look,” I told her.

Her eyes came to me, which had previously been staring longingly at the man that had just walked out the door.

“What look?” She feigned ignorance.

I studied Carmichael. She was Croft’s type for sure.

Small, skinny, doll-like. She had porcelain white skin, rosy cheekbones that most woman would have to use blush to attain. Silky black curls that framed her face and stretched down to mid-back when she didn’t have it up in a cute ponytail.

Honestly, she and Croft would go together well. He had a type—one that ran along the lines of her.

I’d never fit into that type, and never would.

Not that there was anything wrong with her, but still.

“I used to have a crush on him.” I paused. “I’ve had a crush on him since I met Raleigh.”

Her eyes went wide. “You still have a crush on him?”

She sounded so alarmed that I almost smiled. “No. Used to. Past tense. I don’t anymore.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

I let my eyes drift to the man that was busy cleaning up the gym, putting up equipment, and having an annoying Nivea follow him around while he did it.

“Because someone showed me that my crush on Croft wasn’t all that much of a crush,” I said simply.

She followed my gaze.

“My brother is a dick.”

I burst out laughing, causing Flint’s head to come up and his eyes to latch onto mine.

“I don’t know why that’s relevant,” I admitted.

“It’s relevant because my brother’s a dick, and you shouldn’t give up your crush on Croft because you think he’s going to be nice.” She paused. “He can be nice, yes. But he’s not really all that nice unless he wants to be.”