Chapter 11
Eleven
“Hips closed, knees open, feet planted, shoulders dropped. Make sure you brace for impact.”
Roxy chanted the words back to herself in her head after he called them out.
Repeating them over and over again in her head, trying—and utterly failing—to concentrate on the drill they were working on, and not the sculpted, bronzed, half naked man that was prowling through the paired off duos spaced across the gym floor.
“Strike.”
She struck the mitt on Natalie’s right hand and her friend stumbled backward with the force, having not prepared for the hit. Roxy fought the urge to roll her eyes. To Natalie, this was just an hour of ogling Travis… but to her, it was vital.
He was back.
In the days since she’d found Neal’s note, she’d hardly slept, could hardly eat for the fear coursing through her veins every waking moment. So she’d thrown herself into training. Listening to every single word Travis taught them. Because she knew… she knew she would need it.
Maybe not right now, but she would.
He was back, he had sent those flowers, and he had been in her house, multiple times it seemed. He’d stolen her perfume, had taken her clothes…had come back to leave a fucking note, asking for forgiveness. She nearly snarled with the memory of that note.
She’d fallen asleep in the bathtub and he’d crept through her house without her even knowing it, while she was there, totally unaware.
Had he spied on her in the bathtub? Had he watched her, naked and completely vulnerable?
Her breath quickened as anxiety spiraled through her, making her chest seize, but she shoved it down.
Focusing on her stance; her every muscle straining with how tense she was.
He could have stood over her, doing God only knows what, could have harmed her… and she had been totally oblivious of his presence. He had come back, after that. To leave that note. To tell her he was here, and he was watching.
She had called Bobby, her landlord, and he had come out to replace the locks on the doors, installed a new chain bolt, as well as to check all the windows.
She hadn’t told him why; just said she’d thought she’d seen someone lurking and wanted to make sure everything was up to snuff.
But still, she felt on edge and hated being home alone at night, terrified to sleep in case he was able to get in again.
Shivers ran up and down her spine as she adjusted her stance and waited for Natalie to return to her position.
Natalie’s eyes flicked toward Travis just as Roxy struck again, and Natalie stumbled back a second time.
Travis’s head swiveled toward them, and then Natalie groaned when he made his way through the sparring partners over to them.
“Focus,” he grunted at Natalie, who flushed crimson beneath her blonde hair.
He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. His honey-colored eyes bounced between them before returning to Natalie’s.
He tipped his chin and said, “Show me your stance. Learning how to take and deflect a hit is just as important as learning how to strike properly.”
Roxy straightened out of her stance while Travis worked with Natalie one-on-one, positioning her feet, knees, hips, and shoulders properly.
Natalie’s face was burning with a blush, and Roxy couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at her own lips watching her friend struggle with having Travis so close.
It effectively pulled her out of the dark spiral her mind had been in.
When he was satisfied with Natalie’s posture, he stepped into Roxy’s bubble, forcing her backward a step, and demonstrated a strike; though with a fraction of the speed and power that she was sure he could produce. Natalie nodded, concentrating as he repeated it.
Roxy took the moment to fully appreciate the man’s form while he wasn’t watching her.
His sculpted back that rippled with muscle, covered in more black shaded tattoos.
His waist was trim but thick, and she didn’t doubt for a second that this man’s core strength was impeccable with a tree trunk like that for a waist. The athletic shorts he had on accentuated the narrowness of his hips, and the muscles in the backs of his thighs and calves bunched and shifted with each move he made on the balls of his feet.
It really truly was unfair how attractive he was.
As he straightened, she tore her attention away from his beautiful form, hoping it wasn’t mortifyingly obvious she’d been shamelessly checking him out as he turned to face her.
He smirked at her, his golden eyes sparkling with humor at having caught her.
One brow arched high, teasing her silently, and her belly did that annoying flipflop thing again. Damn him.
“You’re turn, Red. Show me what you’ve got.”
He widened his stance, taking over where Natalie had left off, those honey-gold eyes of his shining tauntingly. She gritted her teeth and shifted into position; her own eyes locked on his in a silent challenge.
She struck the mitt on his right hand and he grunted in approval.
The sound ricocheted through her mind and scattered every coherent thought from her brain.
He nodded once, shifting. The muscles in his chest, shoulders, and arms rippled.
Her eyes tracked the motion and his quick smirk told her he’d caught her in the act. Fucker.
“Again, Red,” he taunted low.
She focused her gaze on the mitt on his hand, refusing to meet those teasing eyes, and did as he said, striking hard.
“Good,” he rumbled and she forced her face to remain impassive.
Her muscles were already screaming at her, tensed as she was with anticipation and adrenaline, as well as burning from the hour of work they’d already done. Her shoulders were going to ache after today’s class, she just knew it.
“Can you give me one more?” he asked gruffly, and she thought she just might die from the eroticism of that simple question. Her eyes snapped to his, her mouth parting. His lips tilted up in another almost imperceptible smirk as he tracked her response to the question.
She nodded stiffly, then took a deep breath in, focusing intently on the mitt that covered his hand.
She struck again, annoyed with herself at just how much his approving rumble affected her, how much she realized she sought his approval.
She was Roxsanna fucking Roberts. She didn’t need any man’s approval.
But oh that sound that rumbled out of his chest was music to her ears, every damn time. He let that corner of his mouth lift in that teasing smirk again, before turning his attention back to the rest of the class. “That’s enough for today. You all did well. See you in a few days.”
And then he sauntered off toward the corner of the room, where his gym bag was situated on one of the many benches that lined the walls.
Roxy and Natalie walked off in the opposite direction toward their own bags.
Natalie was quiet, for once, probably still embarrassed at having Travis so close in her space and correcting her on her form, but Roxy didn’t mind the quiet.
The thoughts roiling through her head were loud enough.
Ever since he’d stopped in at the bar, it felt like things had shifted between them. Were Moe, Lowell, and Rudy right? Was he interested?
She mentally shook her head. Even if he was—which she highly doubted, because, look at the guy—she wasn’t.
She wasn’t.
Not totally, anyway.
Fuck. Okay, maybe a little. But only enough to look, not to do anything about it.
Only because when he looked at her with those damn honey-golden eyes, she could feel it all the way to the very center of her.
Like he could see everything, even the broken and ugly parts of her that she fought to keep hidden.
And she hadn’t felt attraction to another man in so long…
men weren’t worth the trouble that came along with the more enjoyable parts, so she’d kept her distance and stocked up on eh-hem… toys.
Toys that had gotten an obnoxious amount of use since he’d shown up at the bar, in those jeans and that cowboy hat… A flash of lightheadedness swept through her.
Natalie called a quiet, “Good night,” to her and Roxy waved as her friend exited the gym doors, heading down the sidewalk to her vehicle. Roxy sat down on the bench, taking several deep, slow breaths, eyes closed.
“I swear to God if you pass out on me again—”
Roxy let out a scoffing laugh and opened her eyes to find Travis standing in front of her, about four feet away.
He’d pulled on a hoodie that had the sleeves cut off—did the man not own anything with sleeves still attached?
—and the colorful athletic tape had been removed from his hands.
His gym bag was slung over one shoulder.
“I’m fine,” she said, softening her tone. “I just need a quick snack.”
“You need to start preparing a pre-workout snack before class, especially if you’re going to insist on working yourself as hard as you did today,” he grumbled roughly, and she narrowed her gaze on him in irritation.
Before she could open her mouth to offer a scathing retort, he slid the bag down his arm until it thumped to the floor and he knelt by it, deftly unzipping a side pocket.
He produced two small Tupperware containers, one filled with sliced orange wedges, and the other, filled with mixed nuts.
He pried the lid off the one with the sliced orange, passing it to her.
She stared at the little plastic container in his hand for a long time before raising her eyes to his in shock.
He shrugged one shoulder, still holding out the container of cut fruit.
His eyes never left hers. “I make sure to have some in my bag, just in case. Any night you don’t need it, I eat it on the way home.
” He shrugged again. “And it’s easier to have it precut than have to use my switchblade all the time. ”
Her head fell to the side just slightly, shaking in awe. Tears stung her nose sharply at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. She reached out and took the container from him, their fingers grazing. “Travis…”
“You promised me no extra paperwork. If you pass out again, that promise is then null and void, and we’re going to have a problem.
Eat, please.” His eyes were shining with humor, but he nodded toward her hands anyway, indicating for her to start eating.
He grinned then, resting his elbow on his bent knee, leaning toward her slightly as he murmured huskily, “Unless you’re just looking for an excuse to get me to take you out for dinner again.
All you have to do is tell me, baby girl. ”
Her mouth dropped open in astonishment, a startled laugh bubbling out of her. He winked, and Roxy felt more of that barbed wire fence wrapped around her heart giving way. Shit I’m in so much trouble. He’s just so goddamn charming.
She sat up straighter then, as if being yanked upright, as warning bells blared in her head a moment later.
Charming. Charming was dangerous. Charming was a facade for narcissistic behavior.
Neal had been charming once, too. And she’d told herself never again would she be wooed by a pretty face or dashing smile.
Men didn’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts without expecting something in return.
And she had nothing to give. Nothing she was willing to give.
Dropping her gaze from his to the pieces of sliced fruit in her lap, she tried to tell herself that Travis wasn’t like Neal. He wasn’t trying to hurt her; he was trying to help her.
Anger bubbled up then, and she shoved the container back at him. He took it, more out of surprise, his light brows furrowing over his honey-gold eyes. “I don’t need your pity oranges, or a pity date, Travis.”
“Pity oranges?” he growled, and she felt his eyes as they bored into the side of her face, which she kept resolutely turned away from him.
“I don’t need your help, either.”
“What the fuck are pity oranges, Roxy?” he asked, his voice low and lethal.
She gestured toward the Tupperware still in his hand, while stuffing her things into her own bag.
Her hands shook. Fuck. Maybe she should have eaten at least a few of those before shoving them away.
No. She wouldn’t let him see her tremble.
Raising her defiant stare to his, she said, “I’m not your problem to deal with, Travis.
Again, nothing about me is any of your business. So leave me alone.”
“It is my business if you pass out in my class because you’re too stubborn to accept help when you need it—”
“I don’t need your help!” she exclaimed, surging to her feet. Lights flashed like stars on the outsides of her vision, but she steeled her shoulders. “I don’t need help from any man, Travis. So back off.”
Hoisting her gym bag over her shoulder, she marched across the now empty mat toward the door.
Pushing open the door, she sucked in the cool evening air, taking long, deep breaths, before heading down to her car.
She sank into the driver’s seat, fumbling with the zipper of her bag and pulling out a package of peanut butter crackers.
She managed to tear the plastic open despite how badly her hands were shaking, and took a bite of the cracker.
Resting her head against the head rest, she sighed, closing her eyes as she chewed through three of the six crackers. The trembling lightened, but it wasn’t completely gone, her heart still racing slightly.
Eyes still closed, she heard his footsteps on the sidewalk, and then next to her car, before a light knock sounded on her window.
She opened her eyes, glancing at him, before sighing and rolling the window down.
He leaned his forearms against the windowsill, his face appearing as he ducked to look in at her.
“Are you done?” he asked, his tone droll.
She rolled her lips in between her teeth and took another long, deep breath in, letting it out just as slowly. She knew he wasn’t referring to the blood sugar attack… but rather the temper tantrum she’d just thrown. She nodded grudgingly.
“So, you get ornery when your blood sugar dips, that’s good to know,” he murmured gently, teasing lightly. She rolled her eyes. “Dinner or a drive home, what’s it going to be, baby girl?”
Admitting defeat, she caught his gaze and whispered, “Dinner, please.”
He grinned, a quick flash of his beautifully straight white teeth, and winked again. “I told you all you had to do was ask, Roxy.”