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“Rafe.” I nod back. He’s a regular here, like me. In fact, he has a group of guys he trains twice a week. The Inked Brotherhood, they call themselves, a kind of informal gang, but without the drugs.
I think.
“Why don’t you come train with us?”
He’s asked me this before. Can’t remember what reason I gave him.
“Thanks,” I mutter, “but I’m fine with the machines.”
“Machines won’t do much for your stamina,” he says, all seriousness. “And won’t help with self-defense.”
He really is concerned about people being able to defend themselves. I appreciate that, I do.
“I’m good.”
Self-defense isn’t my goal. Self-preservation, perhaps. Keeping in shape. Keeping the old ticker going.
Rafe says something more, but a glint of copper curls from my right catches my attention, and I lose the thread.
She’s here.
Rafe chuckles and pats my back. “Well, I see you’re busy.” He winks at me. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks.” I’m so fucking distracted.
Why am I distracted? And why is my body tensing with arousal, my stomach clenching and my dick hardening as I watch her walk toward the ladies’ locker room, chatting with a pretty, pink-haired girl?
I rub at my chest. What is this? Jacking off should have taken care of the need, of that strange something that was bothering me.
It seems it only made it worse.
Chapter Seven
Passion Fruitcake Madness
Brylee
Ignoring Ryan doesn’t seem to be working so well. He should be reacting, getting conflicted and questioning himself.
Instead he just laughs at my efforts and walks away every time.
Results, Bry. We need results.
I should up the ante. Raise the stakes.
Only what works with numbers doesn’t seem to work with boys. Darn it. And I’m so good with numbers. I like numbers. They are simple. They do what you expect them to do.
Unlike boys.
Simone thinks I should be patient. Wait. Try facial masks. Bake cookies.
He’s not eating my cookies until he earns that right. Also, I need time. I’ve been practicing my baking skil
ls, but I’m not quite there yet.
So there’s also that. I’ll learn, though. Practice makes perfect. I’ll get there.
Ryan and I, we have this in common: perseverance.
