Ben in a bikini. It’s been a dream of mine, so…”
She snorts and squirts water across my face. “I hadn’t made any plans. But I guess I’m free next weekend. I could maybe plant some seeds and see who turns up.”
“Even if it’s certain I would take a chunk out of her?”
Evie shrugs and drinks the last dregs of water from her bottle. “She’s a grown woman, Will. Twenty-five, dating, I’m fairly certain she’s not even a virgin. She’s smart, she’s witty, and she can disable an attacker with two fingers and a piece of gum.”
“Sounds… odd. Any relation to MacGyver?”
“Possibly. I’m not going to stand in front of her and act as another guard like Oz and Ben and every other man in this gym. But I will stand behind her, and I’ll step forward if she’s ever in need of help.”
“Does she wear a one-piece?”
Laughing and shaking her head, Evie pushes to her knees, then to her feet. “I’m absolutely not telling you. But you should also be aware, if I set this up and invite her along, it’s fairly likely Brenten will come too. She’s happy with him, she likes him. There’s no reason she wouldn’t bring him.”
I make the psht sound in the back of my throat. “Nobody could be happy with that cardboard box. What she is, is comfortable.”
“You literally don’t even know him.” She turns back to me and offers both hands to pull me up. “You’ve said two words to him ever. He could be her prince, Will, but you’re not willing to look.”
“That’s because I’m busy looking at her.” I stand tall and release her hands. “She’s so pretty.”
Evie rolls her eyes and turns away to collect her Thai pads. “Gee, where have I heard that before? Let’s go.” She lifts the pads. “Let’s start again. Then we’ll hook up with Ben and the others and work through a little ground game.”
Two sweaty hours after walking into the Rollin On Gym, and an hour of rolling on the mats with Ben Conner and trying my damn best not to ask him for permission to ask Olivia out to dinner, I make my way to the locker rooms and step under an icy cold shower.
I feel like I have fire in my veins and sparks under my skin, so even the cold water feels warm, but I press my hands to the tiled wall and close my eyes, and for several minutes, I simply let the shower cascade over my face and shoulders.
It’s not yet lunchtime, which means I have loads of my day left to go back to Quinn’s house and chill out, and despite my bitching on the canvas, all of my sweating seems to have detoxed my body of the hangover I woke with. I’m still thirsty, but my headache is gone, as is my roiling stomach, my bad mood. In its place, dumps of adrenaline and endorphins circulate through my blood and make me smile.
When guilt creeps in about wasting water, I slap the taps and turn it off, then I snag the towel from where I left it hanging on the wall, and go to work drying off. I do my best to mop the water from my skin, but in this summer heat, I have to acknowledge I’ll never truly be dry.
Tossing my towel aside, I spray a little deodorant under my arms and shrug into a tank. Boxers. Shorts. Stepping out of the stall and into the communal area of the locker room, I sit on the bench seat and pull on a pair of socks and my sneakers. It’s too damn hot for shoes, but I can’t go without, so I huff my way through the routine, and when I’m done, I stand again, toss my shit into my gym bag, and zip it up.
My phone rings, and because I’ve set certain contacts up with their own ringtone, my body turns tense in a moment. A new dump of adrenaline zooms through my blood, a new wave of energy pushes my pulse faster.
I glance around the empty locker room to make sure I’m alone, then grab the phone and accept the call. “Yeah?”
“I need you over by the steel mill tonight at eleven. Dress casual, take cash, and if you run into any trouble, get lost.”
“Who am I meeting?”
“A guy by the name of Ripley. He oughtta be two-twenty, six-two, scar on his jaw, tattoo on his left hand.”
“Oughtta be?” I whip back. “You don’t