Chapter Ten
Axle
The gym is empty when I walk in at six o’clock sharp.
Royce was supposed to meet me, but I knew his ass wouldn’t show up. I usually have to drag him out of bed to work out in whatever town we happen to be in.
Admittedly, I used to be the same. But now I prioritize my workouts.
I drop my bag by the door and take a slow look around.
Bryce spared absolutely no expense when he built this place.
The facility sits on the west side of the rodeo academy and rivals anything I’ve seen in professional training centers. Rows of treadmills. Stair climbers. Weight machines. Free weights. Recovery equipment.
Everything a rodeo athlete could need.
It impresses the hell out of me.
Bull riding isn’t just hanging on for eight seconds.
People who think that have never climbed onto the back of fifteen hundred pounds of bad attitude and pure muscle.
Every ride demands core strength, strong thighs, forearm and grip power, balance, flexibility, endurance, and mental toughness.
And if you don’t take care of your body, the sport will chew you up and spit you out before you’re thirty.
I’ve seen it happen too many times to good riders.
Men who should’ve had another decade in the arena.
Instead, they’re limping around with bad knees and fused backs because they never learned how to take care of their bodies and recover properly.
So, weight lifting and cardio are nonnegotiable if you want to be competitive and not just skate by.
Yoga is also a good idea, but I haven’t gone that fucking far.
I climb onto one of the treadmills, and after a quick warm-up, I start running.
Five miles.
That’s the goal every morning.
No excuses.
If I’m going to stand in front of the kids and preach discipline, I’d better be willing to practice it myself.
The first two miles pass easily. The third burns. And the fourth and fifth hurt.
It doesn’t help that I only got a collective four hours of sleep last night.
Sweat drips down my neck by the time I finally slow the machine.
My lungs work hard to recover, but my legs feel loose and strong.
Good.
Exactly what I wanted.
I grab a towel and wipe my face before heading toward the free weights, which I prefer to the machines.
I choose forty-pound dumbbells and head to one of the weight benches for a set of chest presses and rows just as the gym door opens.
I open my mouth to give my brother shit for being late, but the words die on my tongue.
Because it’s not Royce.
Jovie steps inside, carrying a water bottle.
Her blonde hair is pulled into a high ponytail that swings behind her. Earbuds are tucked into her ears.
Completely focused on whatever music she’s listening to, she doesn’t notice me at first.
I wish I could say I immediately look away.
I don’t.
Instead, I sit on the edge of the weight bench and watch her cross the room.
She’s dressed for a workout.
Running shorts.
Sports bra.
Athletic shoes.
Normal gym clothes, but still … damn.
She stops to stretch beside the stair climber. She looks confident. Comfortable in her own skin. And entirely too easy to look at.
I drag my attention toward the dumbbells.
Focus, asshole.
You’re here to lift. Train.
Get it done so you can get to work.
I take the weights in my hands and lie back.
I try to concentrate on my sets and complete two of eight, but unfortunately, my eyes keep wandering.
Jovie bends into a stretch, rolling her shoulders and rotating her neck.
Professional movements. Nothing more. But, fuck me, it’s beautiful to watch.
A few seconds later, she turns.
Notices me.
Then removes one earbud.
“You again.”
“Me again.”
A smile tugs at her mouth. “What are you doing here this early?”
I set the dumbbells on the floor and sit up.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”
She gestures toward the equipment. “Working out.”
“Funny. Me too,” I quip.
Her smile widens.
And a thrill shoots through me that I made it happen.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never cared about making a woman smile.
I clear my throat. “Thought you’d be sleeping in for a while.”
“Yeah, I wanted to, but I got maybe an hour before Cabe woke me up for breakfast. Plus, I told the students I’d be here this morning in case any of them wanted to work out and needed pointers.”
She pauses and looks around the empty room.
“Which I guess was too much to hope for.”
Something twists in my chest.
Not jealousy.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Cabe is my brother and one of my favorite humans.
If he and Jovie are finding their way back to each other, I’m happy for him.
Mostly.
“Yeah, afraid that’s gonna be a hard sell. But don’t feel bad. I got stood up too.”
“Really? By who?”
“Royce. That lazy asshole is worse than the teenagers.”
She laughs.
“You eat breakfast with Cabe every morning?” I have no idea why I asked.
She wrinkles her nose. “God, I hope not. He starts his day way too early. He just happened to have to run to town this morning, so he ate late. Stopped to get me on his way to the dining hall.”
She takes a drink from her water bottle.
“I’m sure he’ll be running late a lot this summer. Just so he can see you,” I say.
She shrugs. “Maybe. We’re both so busy. There isn’t much time to catch up.” Something softens in her expression. “So, I figured I’d make time. Even if someone had kept me up until sunrise.”
Cabe deserves people who make time for him. The guy spends every daylight hour working. Always has.
And if he wants Jovie, that’s a good thing. A really good thing.
So, why does the thought leave a sour taste in my mouth?
“Who kept who up exactly?”
She doesn’t answer, just smirks before she turns toward the stair climber and hops on.
The machine starts moving.
I continue to watch until she settles into a steady rhythm.
Then I return to my workout.
Or at least, I try.
I grab the pair of dumbbells and lie back down.
Start a set. Counting reps and trying to focus on form and breathing.
Try to focus on literally anything except the woman twenty feet away.
Unfortunately, my brain refuses to cooperate.
Every few seconds, my attention drifts back toward the stair machine.
She works hard. Every movement is deliberate. Every step is controlled.
The longer I watch, the more impressed I become.
Maybe that’s what this is. Not attraction, but respect.
Attraction is fleeting. It fades.
Hell, I find all kinds of women attractive—different women, different bar, different city every night.
Respect is something else entirely.
The realization unsettles me.
I walk over and grab the fifty-pound weights. Push myself harder, attempting to redirect my thoughts.
It doesn’t work.
Jovie remains front and center.
The sound of her shoes against the machine. The occasional sip from her water bottle. The determined expression she wears while climbing a mountain that exists only on the screen before her. The bead of sweat that travels down her throat and disappears between her breasts beneath her sports bra.
After about twenty minutes, she finishes, breathing heavily as she grabs a towel, pats the back of her neck and chest, then walks toward the free-weights section.
Toward me.
My pulse races as she chooses the bench beside mine. Then she starts lifting.
For several minutes, neither of us says anything, and like last night, the silence feels surprisingly easy.
Comfortable, not awkward.
We simply work. The only noise the occasional clink of weights filling the room.
I like sharing space with her more than I should.
Eventually, she sets her weights down and stretches her shoulders.
I glance over as she takes another drink from her bottle.
“You should use the sauna after workouts,” she says.
I freeze.
The image appears unbidden in my head before I can stop it.
Small, dark room. Close quarters. Just the two of us. Sweating. Her body wrapped only in a towel. Her skin glistening.
I grip the dumbbell harder.
“Axle? Did you hear me?”
I clear my throat. “Sauna?”
“Yeah. It’s great for post-workout muscle recovery. And it reduces inflammation. Plus, the heat lowers cortisol levels, helping you to relax after strenuous physical sessions.” Her tone remains completely professional.
Unlike my brain.
Strenuous physical sessions.
“Yeah?” I choke out.
She nods. “It can improve circulation too.”
“Interesting.”
“And it just feels good,” she breathes.
The woman is trying to kill me.
“Maybe,” I mutter.
“You should.”
She stands and gestures toward the hallway leading to the locker rooms. “Honestly, every athlete here should use it. How lucky are we that Bryce had one built? I swear, he thought of everything.”
I rise from the bench.
Keeping a safe distance between us.
“He did.”
“Except for a cold plunge. I told him that needs to be his next investment. Sauna, then a cold plunge—that’s a recovery power couple. But for now, we’ll have to make do with cold showers.”
I lift a brow. “Cold showers?”
She nods. “Yeah. It’s not the same as a fifty-degree tub, but it’ll do in a pinch. A quick fix.”
I swallow hard. A cold shower is exactly the fix I need right about now.
“So, you want to try it out with me?”
“What?”
She giggles. “The sauna.”
Fuck yes.
“Can’t,” I say.
“Why not?”
“I’ve got an early class.”
“Oh. Bummer.”
Disappointment flickers briefly across her face.
Or maybe I imagine it.
“That’s too bad.”
“Yeah.” The word comes out rougher than intended, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Maybe next time.”
My entire body locks up.
Because part of me likes the idea way too much.
“Maybe,” I say. “You go ahead. I’ll wipe these down and return the dumbbells.” I gesture to the benches.
“Okay. Thank you.”
She takes her water bottle and disappears down the hallway. Leaving me standing beside the weights.
Watching her walk away.
“Hey, Doc.”
She looks over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I’ll see if I can light a fire under the students. Get a few in here tomorrow morning.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
The second the door closes behind her, I release a slow breath.
Shit.
I enjoyed this way too much.
All of it.
Every single second.
And that’s dangerous.
She’s Jovie.
She’s Cabe’s history.
Maybe his future.
I place our dumbbells back on the rack and spray down the leather before gathering my things and heading for the exit. Making a mental note to switch my workouts to after dinner.
There cannot be a next time.
Not in a sauna.
Not alone.
Not anywhere that makes it easier to forget who she is.
Or who she might still belong to.
I step outside into the cool Wyoming morning.
Voices carry from the open doors of the dining hall as students finish their breakfast.
Thank goodness classes start soon.
I head for my cabin to change and get to the arena. Exactly where my focus needs to be.
Not on Jovie.
And definitely not on how much I’m looking forward to seeing her in the middle of the night.
I shake my head and start walking, vowing that I’m gonna keep my ass inside tonight.
The problem is, even as I tell myself that, I already know I’m lying.