Chapter 15
KAEDE
Another Tuesday, and another day almost in the books. Except this Tuesday feels different from all the others. I’m looking forward to the last hour of work today, that’s for sure.
Well, maybe not ‘work’, exactly.
I’m looking forward to seeing Courtney in a whole new way.
She’s always been a private highlight to my days, but now that I’m getting to know her better, know what she looks like when she comes and have felt her in my arms, there’s a reality to those dreams I’ve been secretly harboring.
And I’ve been struck by a deeper hunger for her and an overwhelming desire to see and touch her again.
It’s almost time for her to arrive for Zumba, and I plan on catching her before, at least ‘checking in’ on the class and hopefully grabbing a smoothie with her afterward.
I had a momentary lapse where I considered actually joining in to get closer to her, but I quickly remembered that I’ve got zero dancing skills and I’m not eager to make a fool of myself. But I’ll definitely look in the window for a minute or two.
Right now, though, I’m walking the floor, checking on how the gym is overall.
And even to my critical eye, things look great.
All the research Ross and I did on time flows and usage stats is paying off in real time.
There’s no wasted money, no wasted space.
Even though we’re at our busiest time, right after work, very few people are waiting, but we also don’t have a bunch of equipment sitting around gathering dust.
“Hey, Kayla, how’s it going?” She’s in axe alley, as always, currently sharpening a hatchet within an inch of its life.
Or maybe someone else’s? With her, I’m never quite sure, and she does seem especially tense.
She hums but doesn’t look up, keeping safety first, eyes on the sharps at all times. “What’d that axe do to piss you off?”
At that, she does stop sharpening and looks up at me. “Huh?”
I gesture vaguely to the murder device in her hand from a relatively safe distance, and she smiles.
“Oh, just keeping my tools in tip-top shape,” she explains, running a finger along the top, blunt edge of her axe to judge the curve, I guess.
“Not too sharp, but I like having pointed corners for impact. The actual edge doesn’t take that much of a beating if you throw it properly.
But I’m mostly doing this for show right now.
” That last part is nearly whispered, and though I might regret this, I lean in.
“Show?”
Kayla leans over too, giving me one of her sweetest smiles, which definitely means I’m in for a good one that’ll probably leave me mind fucked.
“Some of AJ’s meatheads started snickering when I was practicing, so I told them I was prepping for a competition.
” That doesn’t sound bad, but the look on her face says she’s not done.
After a dramatic pause, she says, “The Lorena Bobbitt speed finals. Sure, hacking a dick off might sound gratifying, but clean, sharp cuts are where it’s at for efficiency. ”
I can’t help but cover my own cock protectively as I wince.
Kayla laughs. “They had the same reaction and suddenly had someplace else to be.”
“You’re evil and downright scary as fuck, you know that, right?” I don’t mean it as a compliment, but she sure takes it as one, flipping her hair over so the part goes the opposite way and batting her lashes.
“You say the sweetest things, Kaede. Oh, somewhat on topic . . . did you get my time off request for the competition?”
My brows go up, “It’s not really a Bobbitt contest, is it?” I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I’m clarifying anyway because . . . Kayla.
“It’s not.” She looks toward AJ and the three guys he’s training.
For his part, AJ seems to be punishing them for their comments to Kayla as much as she is with the eye-glaring axe sharpening.
At least there’s some employee camaraderie there.
“Just a usual seasonal competition. Road to Nationals, you know.”
“In that case, yes, I got it. Just don’t want to be considered a premeditation accomplice. You got everything planned out?” I can’t help it. It’s the organizer in me that needs to make sure everything is done, even if it’s not my stuff to do.
“Yep, staying at a Motel 6 with a fellow competitor who’s a friend, and it’s right next to the competition site. Just ready to get there and mop the floor with their blood and tears.” Kayla flashes that dimpled grin that makes me think she’s kidding.
“Maybe not the best analogy when you’re throwing axes?
” I tease, and Kayla picks up her hatchet.
In a move so fast I barely register it, she tosses it in an easy overhand that embeds it deep into the wood target.
It’s completely casual, but it still makes me jump, my balls aching as I think of her joke. “Fuck.”
“Who says it’s an analogy? I meant it literally,” Kayla says, doing a quick mime of mopping the floor before thrusting her hands high in victory. “Two men enter, one woman leaves!”
“That’s not axe throwing. That’s Thunderdome.”
“Meh, small difference,” Kayla says before looking over my shoulder, or more accurately, around me because of our height difference. “Speaking of small differences, let me go knock some sense into AJ.”
Kayla heads off as I see AJ waving goodbye to his clients. Kayla doesn’t look mad, more like a woman who’s got something on her mind and you’d best hear her out without speaking. At all.
Good luck, AJ. She’s a handful and then some.
I leave the back area and head toward the front part of the gym, picking up as I go. One Life isn’t half as bad as some gyms I’ve been in, but still, a quick roaming pickup of plates left lying around or out of place helps later in the day.
I’m dropping a ten-pound plate onto a weight tree when a flash of red catches my eye and Missy walks up.
She’s got on low-waisted shorts that show off her flat abdomen, but they’re several inches longer than her usual, and her bra is more of a strappy crop top.
She still looks flashy, given that she’s in full fire-engine red, and the straps are mighty reminiscent of bondage wear, but I think Ross’s chat with her must’ve worked because it’s at least a slightly more family-friendly look.
“Hey, Kaede . . . got a minute?” she asks, her voice more serious than normal. When I nod, she continues. “Please excuse my father. He meant well. I mentioned you as both an owner and as a man. I’m a bit of a Daddy’s girl, so what I want, I get. My dad was just trying to help his little girl out.”
Listening to her tone of voice, someone might think she’s trying to sound apologetic about it.
But I’ve been putting up with bullshit artists, from college coaches to corporate cutthroats, for over half my life, and my bullshit detector’s as finely tuned as an Italian sportscar.
And what it’s telling me is that Missy’s a spoiled princess and likes it that way, used to getting what she wants.
She’s just trying a new tactic, figuring if throwing the pussy in my face wasn’t going to work, maybe playing the ‘good girl’ might. “I see.”
“I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” Missy purrs, still trying to play the penitent. “I thought . . . well, you always seemed . . . interested, but shy.”
Seriously? Me, shy? Does she really think that’s going to work?
I mean, I’m sort of stuck. I can’t just laugh in her face here.
It wouldn’t be professional. And while she’s about as dead wrong as she can be, I’m also usually a polite guy.
“Missy, the last thing anyone would describe me as is shy. However, I don’t mix my personal and my professional lives. ”
Missy, seeing that her little act has failed, reverts back to her normal, real self.
She pushes her tits out a little more in her tight top, her eyes take on a predatory shine, and she smiles hungrily, like a succubus on the hunt for a treat.
“Pity,” she purrs, running a long, painted nail along my bicep.
“I find mixing things up to be most exciting.”
Missy’s eyes cut to behind me and her lips twitch in delight.
I look up in the mirror to see Courtney, stone-faced and jaw so tightly clenched I wouldn’t be surprised if she cracked a molar.
To most people, she would look tense, maybe a little perturbed.
But I can read that girl like a book, and as I turn around, I know by the pace of her stride and the way her chin juts out just a little bit that she’s pissed.
In fact, if Courtney Andrews could shoot fireballs from her eyes, I’d be calling the fire department.
But I know Courtney, and I know how to handle this situation.
Instead of trying to act defensive, I wave her over.
I was a little afraid after our run that things would be awkward, and yeah, it’s bad to see her with Missy basically humping my leg, but this is salvageable. Hell, this is an opportunity.
“Hey, honey,” I begin, giving her a smile as she stands next to me.
She doesn’t take my hand, doesn’t even touch me, but I feel claimed all the same by her presence, the heat of her gaze.
“I wanted to take a moment to introduce you two. Courtney Andrews, this is Missy Tillman. Missy, this is Courtney Andrews, my fiancée.”
Missy seems smug, probably thinking she can start some shit. But Courtney is in full Ice Queen mode, and inwardly, I chuckle. Courtney’s about to end this girl’s whole life and not even raise her voice.
“Charmed, of course,” Courtney says, her tongue just starting to warm up to deliver the first cut. “Kaede has told me so much about your father. Oh, and you, of course.”
Ouch. I’ve become an expert in verbal jousting, in the little ways that people can say something without saying something. And quite frankly, Courtney’s a master. It’s just a half-second pause, but with a slight change in inflection, in tone, the meaning is clear.
You’re nothing. An afterthought.