Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
“T he pulley system is going to add about five hundred per point.”
Millie held back a scream of frustration as Seb, her rig guy, explained the cost while they toured her new studio space. The studio was a former auto body shop that held many different businesses over the past two decades. The realtor told her it had been an art studio, a laser tag arena, a plant store, and most recently one of those kiddie gym places. Thankfully the former business left the cushy padded flooring. She’d still need mats, but the padding was much better than the cold cement below.
“Does that price include the install?” She asked glancing up at the beams on the ceiling where the points would be.
“I’m sure we can work something out to keep the cost down,” Seb nodded. “My kids have been wanting to get into circus arts.”
“Seb, if you can get this done in my budget your kids can both have unlimited free classes forever.”
The large man chuckled. “Now there’s a deal. I swear their swim and cooking classes are going to clear out my savings. Lucky for you the existing beams passed the engineering inspection, so we don’t need any reinforcement structures there. It’ll just be adding the points and pulley system if you want it.”
Millie glanced around the space, her eyes going up to the twenty-foot ceiling overhead. She could buy a scaffolding ladder for a couple hundred, but then she’d have to drag it out after every class to change the apparatuses. A huge chore and she’d have to store it in the space. The pulley system would make everything easier, including lowering slings and hoops mid-class in case students needed it. It was a no brainer.
“Let’s do the pulley system,” she nodded to Seb.
“You’re the boss.”
Pride warmed her at his words. Yes, she was the boss. Or soon to be, as soon as her studio opened. Her studio. It still sounded so amazing. Her dream come true after all these years of hard work. Giddy excitement threatened to burst from her in a shower of giggles. She held it together as Seb noted something in his clipboard and promised to call her later in the week with a final quote.
Once she was alone in her studio she inhaled. She swore she could catch tiny whiffs of every business that had lived in this space before. Motor oil, acrylic paints, teenage body odor, fresh mulched soil, and baby wipes. Each smell a dream that had once lived here. And now it was her time. Her dream.
Moving over to the portable rig she’d set up yesterday, Millie brushed her fingers along the nylon straps she’d hung this morning. Practicing alone was a no-no in the aerial world. Too many dangers. Things could go wrong and if you didn’t have someone there to help you it could be bad news. But she needed to keep her body in shape if she was going to start teaching in a few months. A little conditioning wouldn’t hurt.
She slipped her hands through the small loops on the end. Rotating her wrists, she locked the straps in place and took a deep breath. Focusing on using her core, she spread her arms and rolled up. The nylon bit into her skin as she rolled. Her muscles tightened, flexing as she continued rolling up. The straps wrapped around her arms like the stripes of a candy cane.
“Holy shit, that’s amazing!” a deep voice echoed against the high ceiling.
Millie held her pose, arms out in a T as she glanced over to see the very last person she expected in the middle of her studio. “Ace?”
His presence startled her, muscles shaking as she lost some of her focus. She lifted her legs in a pike, unrolling back the way she’d come until her arms were free, and her feet were back on the padded floor.
“What are you doing here?”
He lifted a to-go cup. “I was grabbing coffee. Walked by and saw you through the open door.”
She glanced over to see Seb had indeed left the door open. It was the only way to see into the studio. There were some windows in the bay door, but they were high up and didn’t allow a view of the street, just some rays of the sun.
“Want me to close it?” Ace asked.
She nodded. “Please.”
When she opened, they’d keep the door propped in the summer for fresh air, but she didn’t want anyone wandering in off the street just yet.
Ace moved back to the door, pulling it shut. Closing the two of them in the space. Alone.
“What’s all this?” he asked, pointing to her rig.
Millie glanced up at the triangular steel contraption, the top reaching fifteen feet above her head. “It’s my portable aerial rig. I met with my engineer today about rigging points, but I wanted to set Stella up to get workouts in until then.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up in a grin. “Why am I not surprised you named your aerial rig?”
She stuck her tongue out playfully at him, unwrapping her wrists and pulling her hands free.
“Fuck, Millie! Are you okay?”
Ace was by her side in a heartbeat. His hand reached out to grasp her right arm, fingers gently stroking the red marks gracing her skin.
“Clearly you’ve never played with straps before,” she chuckled.
His head snapped up, eyes colliding with hers as heat burned from their depths. She swallowed at the desire pouring off him. Good grief, this man could make her go from zero to horny in half a second.
“Not that kind of straps, naughty boy,” she said, pulling her arm free and waving a finger at him. “Though if you’re into that kind of thing…”
A low growl escaped his lips, but the next second, he shook his head and pointed at the rig. “That what these things are called? Straps?”
“Yup,” she nodded, touching the black nylon. “Aerial straps. Great for conditioning. Hell on your skin. But don’t worry. See the redness is already going away.”
She held out her arms for inspection. Ace stared at them, a serious expression on his face and nodded. It was cute the way he worried about her. Most of her former relationship had been with other aerialists so they understood the random scrapes, bruises, and weird marks on her body.
“You wanna give them a try?” She bobbed her eyebrows, motioning to the straps dangling from the rig.
He scowled, horror filling his face. “I’m good, thanks. That looks like torture.”
Depended on who you were.
“Aren’t you a former military something?” She tilted her head, noting the thick, muscled biceps peeking out of his shirt. Those washboard abs had definitely been made by hours of some kind of workout.
“Marine,” he nodded. “And the shit they put us through was hell, but that…whatever the hell you were just doing, no thank you.”
“Bet I can get you up in the air one of these days,” she teased, placing her fingers on his chest and walking them up to slide her hands around his neck. “Just think of all the fun…possibilities there are.”
“You’re a temptress,” he growled, lowering his head to capture her lips.
She opened for him, losing herself in the delicious taste of him. One arm wrapped around her and tugged her closer until they were pressed together, chest to groin. She ground herself against him, hoping this was going where she wanted it to go, but suddenly Ace pulled away.
“Fuck, you make me lose my head.”
She tried not to be too smug about that fact.
Tried and failed.
There was something about having the power to make this strong, stoic man lose his head that empowered her. She feared she was beginning to crave it. But since he had the same power over her, she figured fair was fair.
“I actually came in here because I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, pulling back.
Hiding her disappointment at the space, Millie feigned apology. “And I distracted you, I am so sorry.”
He gave her a knowing look. “I highly doubt that.”
Guilty.
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
He frowned, all the heat and playfulness disappearing from his face. Uh oh, this couldn’t be good. He had on his serious business face. The one that usually meant he was fretting over something that wasn’t as big a deal as he thought. Letting out a sigh, she motioned for him to follow her to the back of the studio where she had a small folding table and two chairs. The empty to-go cup of her own coffee she’d finished an hour ago sitting on the small table.
“Sit, tell me.”
Ace took the chair across from her, setting his cup down. “I told BJ about the thief.”
She blinked, shock filled her. “You did? But I thought you didn’t want to tell any of your siblings.”
He shrugged. “He knew something was off. He calls it twindar.”
Sounded like something the cheerier of the twins would say.
“Okay, so what’s the problem?” Because the way Ace was acting, she knew he found a problem with something.
He shifted in his seat, staring at the surface of the table instead of her as he spoke.
“I also mentioned how you were digging into things, and he brought up the fact that I might have put you in danger.”
A bubble of laughter left her lips. “Danger? I’m not doing international spy work or digging into the mafia for you guys.”
“I know,” he nodded. “But if the thief finds out you’re poking around they could panic.”
His head lifted, eyes clashing with hers as raw worry poured from them.
“You could be hurt,” the softly spoken confession filled the air.
She frowned. “I highly doubt anyone is going to hurt me.”
“But it could happen,” he leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “And if it did, it would be my fault for putting you in danger.”
There was that protective streak again. Cute, but unnecessary.
“Ace, I’m fine. No one is going to do anything to me—”
“You don’t know that,” he insisted. “I think…I think we should call the plan off.”
Call it off? Her mind reeled with the implication of what that meant. No money for her rigging. She wouldn’t be able to open and would lose the studio without rigging. Not to mention the thief would still be out there, bleeding the Jackson’s dry until they lost their business too.
“We had a deal. You can’t back out now.”
Ace leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest. “I can do whatever I feel is best for the people I care about.”
She blinked. Did he just admit he cared about her?
“And if you’re worried about the money, don’t.”
He continued, moving on as if he hadn’t just dropped a loaded revelation right in front of her.
“I’ll still pay you what we agreed on.”
It took her brain a few seconds to play catch up. Once she did, irritation settled in.
“I told you I don’t take pity pay. I work for what I earn. You hired me to be a server and a spy. I will do both jobs until they’re done.”
“But one of them puts you in too much danger,” he said, frustration sharpening his voice.
“I wrap myself in fabric and drop from heights of fifteen feet or more,” she motioned to the rig. “Danger is my middle name.”
He glared; jaw clenched tight as she argued.
“Okay, fine, technically it’s Susan, but Danger is in there. Millie Susan Danger Danes. Worst superhero name ever.”
That cracked his grouchy facade. A small tick of a smile turned up the corner of his mouth. Shaking his head, he let out a laugh.
“You are stubborn as hell, you know that, right?”
She winked. “Takes one to know one.”