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“You got a lot of weight on there. Why don’t you have a spotter?” Cooper asked, his tone uneasy. Mike didn’t need anyone hovering over him.
“What makes you think I need one?” he hissed through his teeth. “Maybe a scrawny little runt like you needs a spotter.”
“Four hundred and fifty pounds? Hell, Hoss. Even the Jolly Green Giant—”
Gasping, Mike lifted the silver bar higher. Cooper grabbed the center and helped to place the weights in their holder.
“Christ, man. How long you been at this?”
Sweat ran into Mike’s eye. He swiped at it with the back of his hand. He took a quick glance about the room, glad no one else had entered.
For two long weeks, Cassie had plagued him. No woman had ever stayed in his mind so long. She’d seeped in and circled his brain like a spellbinding mist. Sensual images of her had kept him awake through every long night since he’d met her. Long before the sun rose this morning, he’d finally given up. He’d headed to the weight room with the idea that pumping iron would tire him out, exhaust his body enough he’d have to sleep.
Right.
When he closed his eyes, Prussian gems stared back at him. Blonde hair, the shade no bottle could ever achieve. A perfectly rounded nose he ached to kiss. Pouting lips he wanted to taste. He willed the sandman to take him, to no avail. His mind revisited her curvaceous breasts and imagined long sexy legs wrapped around him while her cries of ecstasy reverberated in his ears.
“Mike!” Cooper’s bellow jerked him to awareness.
“I’m not deaf.” Mike raked a hand through his short hair, causing it to spike up.
“Well, when you put it like that … where did you go?” Cooper threw a towel on Mike’s chest, then stepped over to the next bench and laid back.
“Where’s your spotter?”
“Gee, Hoss. I’m benching a couple hundred pounds less than you.”
Mike shrugged, wiping sweat from his face and shoulders. He’d grown used to the nickname. When he asked Cooper where he’d come up with it, Cooper told Mike about a western TV show on an old rerun station. One of the characters was big guy who reminded Cooper of Mike.
“You’ll grow up one day, pup.” Cooper was younger, lanky and always tried to keep up with the rest of the guys on the team. He stood over six feet, was twenty-two, and Mike still thought of the newest member as a young’un’. Reminded him of a puppy trying to run with the big dogs.
“You didn’t answer,” Cooper said. “You look like you’ve been in here all night.”
Mike glanced at the kid who was only eight years younger than himself. “That’s the advantage of having this equipment at the station. We can use it anytime.”
“Better than having to pay a gym. I can use my hard-earned money for other things.” Cooper lifted his bar from its holder and pumped out a set.
“Yeah? Like what?”
Coop finished counting before he answered. “Oh, luxuries like food, rent.” Then he replaced the iron in its holder.
Mike had seen no evidence of the kid struggling. Maybe he should keep a closer eye out.
“You spend a lot of time in here.”
He didn’t reply. The kid didn’t need to know everything, even if he thought he did. Maybe Mike did spend a lot of time pumping iron. He found it the only recourse to push through his pain, push through the memories. Convince himself that his life was good. Things were fine the way they were. He had a job, a home, good health. What else could he expect?
Cooper lifted the bar for a second set, pumped a few times and then placed the weights back with a clank.
“So, what kept you awake?”
Long blonde hair. Turquoise eyes. A body that promised him heaven.
“Must be a broad,” Cooper said.
“People still use that word?” Mike shot the kid a glance.
“In my family, men ruled. Broad and babe were words used in everyday language.” Coop’s face colored. “I won’t mention what else I heard in my house.”
