5. Libby #3
His tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip, dragging my gaze down and sending my heart into a wild beat that my deadlifts didn’t.
Polite society dictates he should have spoken already, that he should have stopped staring by now.
Manners dictate he should have stopped licking his lips, but he considers himself above those expectations.
He stares, he studies me in complete silence, and finally, when I think I can’t take a single second more, he flashes a grin that makes my heart stop. “You okay?”
“Umm…” My eyes flicker across the room. To the door. To the mirrors. Then back to the blue eyes. “Yes.”
“I’m glad. It’d be a damn shame to watch you choke yourself out with a bar. I prefer women when they’re conscious.”
I pride myself on being tough, on being unflustered, and of never letting a man cloud my brain, but all I can manage is another, “Huh?”
He chuckles and turns away to snatch up a bottle of water and a set of keys, then flashing a wink, his grin grows the longer I sit in a clichéd daze. “Be safe, okay?” He shows off the powerful lion on his back as he turns away and out of the room.
Gone.
His absence is a powerful beast, like a black hole in the universe, sucking me in so my every thought is consumed by someone I didn’t even know existed a few minutes ago. It’s just…
“What the hell just happened?”
* * *
Ninety minutes and a long session in silence after stepping into the gym, I pass the front desk in fresh clothes after a shower, with my keys in hand and an inability to shake him off.
Kit Kincaid is wife to Bobby, the former champion fighter who owns this gym.
She’s spent every day for a decade and a half in this building, and not just behind the desk.
She trains, she takes part in classes, she instructs classes, and if rumors are true, she has clout in the fighting world in a managerial-type position.
Mostly she became the spokesperson when her little brother was the champion, and as big sister, she made sure no one was taking advantage or selling him shitty contracts.
In her position as manager, she laid down the law and secured lucrative deals for him, which, to her brother, simply looks like a big sister taking care of business, but to the sports world, she was the most formidable manager they’ve ever had the displeasure of negotiating with.
Now the original owners of this gym are retiring from competition, and training up the local teens for their shot at a title, which means Kit is still formidable, especially when she’s watched those kids grow since the day they were born.
For them, she’ll forever be in big sister mode.
She stands behind the counter alone, tapping at a computer and smiling at whatever entertains her.
Stopping, I jiggle the keys in my hands and try to work up the courage to ask.
I don’t know why I’ve let a two-minute encounter with a stranger get to me, but after yesterday with Donohue, then my dream, and now this… it’s too much.
“Kit?”
She hums under her breath, a “hmm?” type of acknowledgment, which would normally be enough, but when I don’t speak, she stops bouncing her knee and reading, and instead meets my eyes. “Hey, Lib. What’s up?”
“Um…” I look around, as though concerned he’s here. “I wanted to ask you something. About someone that was in here today.”
She lifts a brow. “Is something wrong? Are you a cop or a friend?”
I chuckle and force myself to relax. “Friend. Nobody’s in trouble.”
“Okay. Who’s got you acting all weird?”
“Uh… there was this new guy in here a little while ago. Brand new face, lots of ink on his shoulders and back.”
“Short hair?”
I nod.
“Blue eyes?”
I nod again.
“Lion on his back, and broad shoulders women would happily cling to?”
Heat burns my cheeks, but still, I nod.
She lifts a shoulder. “I have no clue who you’re talking about.”
My lips firm into a scowl, but that only makes the blonde snicker.
“I’m kidding. He’s kinda high-profile, and we don’t get weird about those types around here, do we?
” She’s referring to the fangirls who have tried their luck at meeting a Kincaid over the years.
Her husband, brother-in-law, and brother were all title holders at one point.
They were massive names who had clubs of fangirls who would have sold their panties to the devil to get a minute alone with the guys.
The rule around here is no one is allowed to be weird.
It’s a literal rule painted onto the wall “Don’t be weird!
”, which helps others who are high-profile feel comfortable training here, when many other establishments would use the moment to call in the press and have their business splashed all over the six-o’clock news.
My mind races over the options of who the blue-eyed high-profile man could be. That’s why I know his eyes, no doubt. That’s why my subconscious is screwing with me.
“I’m not gonna be weird,” I promise. “You know that about me. I never get weird.”
Laughing, Kit reaches up and pushes her laptop closed. Resting her hands on top, she lets her fingernail tap the metal casing and her smile grows. “You know Theo Griffin?”
“Griffin Industries?” My eyes shoot back down to her tapping finger, to the lion logo, then back to hers. “Oh!” My eyes widen. “That was Theo Griffin? No way.”
She nods. “But we respect our clients’ privacy, so leave him alone.”
“I left him alone.” Warmth fills my cheeks when I remember him helping me. “We were in the weights room at the same time. He spotted me for a sec; but I was certain I knew his face.”
She shrugs. “Guess you know him from the internet or something. I can’t say I recognized him. He came in and said he needed a place to work out while he’s in town, tossed down a shiny credit card, and paid for a month straight up.”
“He’ll be in town a month?” I frown and study the wall behind Kit, the framed photos, the memories for the family that own this place. “I wonder what he’s doing here. Griffin Plaza is hours away.”
She shrugs. “It’s most of a day’s drive away. He didn’t say what he’s doing in town. Maybe he’s working with the Checkmate crew on something techy? You could ask Cruz.”
“Eh…” I pick up my bag and roll my bottom lip between my teeth in thought. “It’s not important to me. I’ll leave him be. I just thought I knew him, but now I know he’s Griffin, I guess that explains that.”
“Okey dokey.” Smiling, she shakes the topic off and reopens her laptop. “Get a good set in?”
I shrug. “It was okay. Music sucked today.”
She chuckles. “You win some, you lose some. Heading home now?”
“Not yet.” I turn away and step toward the door. “No rest for the wicked.”
She flashes a filthy grin until a single dimple pops in her cheek. “Don’t I know it. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
I give myself only a minute to stare into the street once I walk outside and climb into my car.
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel and unwillingly remember the long mane of hair that man’s lion possessed.
I’m not running late for my next thing, so I allow another minute and mentally study Theodore Griffin’s blue eyes.
How could I possibly know them, if I’ve never met him?
How could I feel this sense of camaraderie if he’s a recluse multi-katrillionaire?
Katrillionaire might be an exaggeration. And perhaps not a real word, but it’s how it feels in my brain. I know millionaires. They own that gym behind me. And I knew billionaires, they sold drugs to kids.
Griffin Industries feels like more than that. So what is more than billions? Katrillions . I’m going to spend half my night Googling if that’s a real word now, and when I inevitably find out it’s not, I’ll have to figure out what the real word is.
“Whatever.”
I start my car with a sigh and pull out of the gym parking lot, and an hour later, I pull into a new parking lot that doesn’t look a whole lot different.
Gravel. Gym-like building. I drive into the city for these meetings because my hometown is too small, everyone knows everyone, and sometimes, I like to keep my business to myself.
I grab my purse and phone and, pulling the keys from the ignition, head inside. A few minutes later, we begin, and I find myself standing in a room with twelve other people.
“Hi, everyone.” I study the circle and give a shy smile. “My name is Elizabeth, and I’ve been clean of my cocaine addiction for twelve years, seven months, and eighteen days.”