for another barbell, but there wasn’t one close enough to grab. Besides, Joey was right. The women did flock to his dark good looks and I’m-a-jerk air of aloof charm. It made no sense, but basketball bunnies rarely did. His best guess was that they all thought they would be the one to break through to the man’s guarded heart. Wasn’t going to happen. As far as he could tell, the man only cared about money. Hence his job as personal trainer to the mega-rich. Good thing he was great at it.
“Tori’s not for you,” Mike said with a grunt as he tried to push his shoulder too far. “Besides, you don’t want her. She comes with too much baggage.”
Joey passed him a wussy two-pound weight and told him to start lifting it slowly. God, he felt like an idiot.
“What’s wrong with her? She got a twisted past? Abusive ex?”
“Idiot ex. He showed up last night at midnight. Leaned on the doorbell like Godzilla was attacking. Fucking moron.”
“He woke you?”
“It was my fucking house.”
Joey frowned a bit then finally understood. “First off, it’s my parents’ house. At my suggestion, they’re letting you house-sit. And second, the idiot banged on your door not hers?”
Mike dropped the tiny weight and breathed into the ache, letting the shoulder recover a bit before his next set. “He’s paying me a hundred bucks to keep an eye on her.”
Joey stared at him. “I don’t even know where to begin asking questions. A hundred—”
“Yeah, he’s a cheap bastard. Tori and I bought beer with it.”
“Now there’s a good idea.”
Then Mike thought back. “No wait. That was the sister’s five hundred. I won moron’s hundred by kissing Tori.”
Joey just grinned. And when Mike turned toward him, the guy gestured with his free hand. “Just keep talking. Clearly I have no idea what’s going on.”
“He showed me engagement rings.”
“Idiot ex?”
“Cheap idiot ex. Wanted to know if I’d been checking up on her and if she’d taken up with anyone.”
“You tell him you’d slept with her?”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
Joey started laughing. It was a small chuckle that grew. The more Mike glared at him, the more the man gave in to his humor until he was leaning against the weight rack and wiping his eyes.
“You done yet?” Mike groused.
“Never thought I’d see you this screwed up over a girl. Jesus, how long ago did you sleep with her?”
“None of your damn business.”
“I’m guessing about six nights ago. You’ve been a whiny bitch ever since.”
Mike told him succinctly what the man could do with his opinion. Which only set off some more laughter. Asshole.
“Look, the ex is planning on proposing. I told him to go buy a big damned rock and to not darken my doorstep again.”
Joey was smiling, but as the silence lengthened, his expression slipped away. “You’re serious. The guy is planning on proposing?”
“Yup.”
“And you slept with her?”
“Yup,” he said, his voice growing softer as he remembered. Damn, it was the best sex of his life, and he’d run away like a scared thirteen-year-old boy. He wasn’t proud of how he’d ended it with her, but damn it, this was why he was a star player with the NY Knicks: because he made the hard decisions and stuck with them. “It was a mistake.”
“Well it was someone’s mistake, we don’t know whose yet. So you think she’ll say yes?”
The very idea made his gut clench. Tori stuck with Edward for the rest of her life? Talk about marrying a dead fish. And a cheap one, too. But out loud, he repeated what he’d been saying to himself ever since the idiot had showed up at his door. “It’s not my problem.”
“Right. Because you’re not hung up on her at all.”
“God, no.”
“Course not. Just because she’s all you’ve talked about for two weeks now.”
“It hasn’t been two weeks,” he grumbled. More like twelve and a half days. “And you know why.” Mike was sweating as he tried his first exercise again. It was a simple damn thing. Walking his fingers up the wall, but shit…it felt like he was running a marathon one finger at a time.
“You know,” Joey said, his tone conversational. “I’ve listened to every superstition you nutcases can dream up. Lucky shorts, purple socks, three green beans with a steak dinner. I’m sure one of you dances naked and howls at the moon before every game. I’m all for whatever gets you to a winning season, but, Mike, your system is straight up