22. Chapter 22
twenty-two
T wo days later, just after one pm, as Heavy stood at the front desk waiting on a client who was late, Cassie walked in to Heavy Iron. Or rather, stormed in.
He raised his brows as she stomped up to the desk and stabbed her key-fob at the check-in reader. She looked flushed, her hair was wet in the front, and she wore a baggy pink tee with a happy, winged coffee bean, the logo of a local coffee truck, The Flying Bean. The tee had brown stains on the front—made it look like the bean had taken a shit all down her pink top.
“Cassie, you okay?” he asked.
She shot him a fulminating glare. “Do I look okay? No! No, I am not okay. I agree to help out at The Flying Bean for the sweet owner, who has to have emergency surgery, and I’m between jobs, so I have time, and I think sure, what could go wrong? Well, I’ll tell you what could go wrong. Not only do I not enjoy creating sticky, disgusting drinks for hours at a time, my fellow barista, Chris, is the owner’s nephew. And he’s a twat-brained idiot, who thinks that just because I’m single and stuck in close quarters with him, he should be able to say whatever shit to me he wants. And he says plenty. Ugh!”
Heavy listened to her mini-tirade with his brows up. Until she got to the part about the guy saying shit. Then he beckoned her around the counter, closer to him, and put a hand on her near shoulder, his hackles raised. “What’d this guy say? Did he touch you?”
“No,” she said, “But he says things like, ‘Nice, babe. Love the way you shake that latte maker. You shake your ass that way when you’re giving it up?’ and crap like that. Gah! He gives me the creeps.”
“Hey,” he said, leaning back to frown into her face. “You know you’re standing right in front of a guy who can help you with that, right?”
She looked up, her pink lips parted in surprise. “You can? I mean… you’d do that?”
He grinned at her, despite his anger at the dickhead who’d dared to come on to her. “Hell, yeah I’d do that.”
She narrowed her eyes. Damn, he’d missed watching her mind race behind that pretty face.
She licked her lips, and his groin tightened. He wanted to crowd her back against his counter and kiss her, suck that sweet tongue into his mouth.
“Okay,” she said slowly, her gaze meeting his. “You could do me a big favor."
"What?" he asked instantly.
She swallowed, and then spoke so quickly the words nearly ran together. “Well, if you could, come to the Bean and have a word with Chris. You don't have to really threaten him or anything—I would never ask you to do that, but just make him stop."
"Oh, I'll threaten his ass," he promised her. "First, no little dickhead talks shit to a Flyer woman. Second, baby, I don’t shut him down now, he’ll think he can get away with more. Only that ain’t happening. ‘Cause I’m gonna show him the road."
She wrinkled her nose. “That is so sweet–in a purely macho, biker man kind of way.”
"Also," he said, his voice very quiet. "Sorry you lost your last job. You like it a lot?”
"Not really," she said with a wry smile. "Make that, not at all. But it was a job in my field. Now I need to find another one. One that does not involve sticky lattes.” She indicated her stained tee and wet bangs with a grimace that made him chuckle.
"I hear you on that," he agreed. “You will.”
She gave him a shyly pleased look. “Well, thanks. I hope so.”
“Anyway, if I do you this solid, then you owe me, right?”
Her smile disappeared.
“Don’t be giving me that look,” he chided, trying his best to look offended. “I don’t have to trade favors for sex.”
“Then what did you mean?” A pink flush stained her cheeks, and she bit the side of her lip, darting little looks everywhere but at him. Oh, how he wanted to grab her up and kiss that soft mouth.
He shrugged. “Gotta get your old man off my back. So you and me, dating? That’s gonna happen, and soon.”
That got her to look at him, although now it was more of a glare. “Oh, for—“
He held up a hand, palm out. “Sorry, pixie, but it needs to happen soon. Cooler’s plenty pissed at me, and it’s making for hard feelings in the club. So, tomorrow evening? You on the back of my bike. We’ll go somewhere, have a few drinks and something to eat. You’ll post pictures wherever you post shit online, and your dad will see it. Everybody will be happy.”
He tipped his head to one side, eying her. She was gazing up at him, her soft lips parted, blue eyes a little dreamy. “You’ll take me on the back of your bike?” she repeated huskily.
He leaned in, dropping his voice as well. “Yeah, pixie. I will. That be good with you?”
She nodded, and he could no longer resist the lure of those lips. He tipped his head to one side and kissed her, quick and soft.
Or at least, that’s the way he’d planned it.
But she tasted as good as she smelled, like vanilla and flowers and woman. His mouth lingered on hers, and before he knew it, his tongue was in her mouth, just for a taste, and hers slicked against it, and her hands came up to clutch his shirt.
He’d just wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, and slid his other down to her ass, reveling in the dainty but sturdy feel of her in his hands, when a woman cleared her throat nearby.
Cassie jerked in his grasp, her eyes flying open, and Heavy lifted his head with a silent curse. Just when the kiss had been getting real good.
Then he looked into the amused gaze of Sara Vanko, and grinned crookedly, feeling like a high school kid getting caught necking by his favorite teacher.
“Morning,” the Flyers’ first old lady said, swiping her gym card. “Guess it’s a good one, hmm?” She winked at Cassie and strolled on toward the locker rooms.
Cassie made a noise like she’d snorted beer up her nose and wilted against him, her face hidden. Then she slowly banged her forehead against his pecs once, twice, three times.
He grasped her shoulders, holding her upright and peering into her face, which was now really flushed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? She saw us—right here!” she squeaked. “Never mind. I can’t even. I gotta—I gotta work out.”
He laughed, shaking his head at her. “Don’t get all flustered, pixie. Sara’s cool. And besides, she’s seen lots hotter than that.”
She stiffened, shot him a glare that could have blistered paint, and grabbed up her gym bag like a weapon. “Oh, I’m sure she has, biker man.”
But she was stalking away toward the locker rooms.
“Hey, I didn’t say it was me she saw,” he pointed out, to her back.
She reached up and pretended to scratch the back of her head, with her middle finger extended.
Well, hell. He’d messed that up.
And after that great kiss, too.
By the time she had changed and walked back out into the gym, Cassie had imagined all kinds of scenarios Sara might have witnessed involving Heavy and the attractive, but apparently brainless women who hung around the Flyers’ clubhouse, willing to do whatever the bikers wanted.
Obviously, Heavy was the handsomest and sexiest of the current Flyers, so those skanks were naturally gonna be all over him. And being a man--as her dad had warned her when she started dating--he thought with his dick. So of course he naturally wasn’t going to turn them down.
She had worked herself into a fine state of indignation with him, and was ready to give him the cold shoulder if he so much as looked her way.
Thus, it was a let down that he was so busy with clients that during her entire workout, he didn’t seem to notice her at all. She knew, because she kept an eye on him…just in case he tried anymore of his stealth kissing moves, she told herself.
And was it her fault that her path around the gym necessitated her being near to him and his clients at times? No, of course not. This also meant she saw and heard him chatting--and laughing, as if he hadn’t a care in the world—with two thirty-something women, dressed and made up as if entered in a workout-wear fashion show. The brunette seemed to need him to show her every new cable weight move at very close quarters, while she thrust her large breasts out and blinked her false lashes at him.
Finally, Cassie had enough, and stalked away toward the locker rooms, perspiring and breathing hard, as much with frustration as from her workout.
Her phone vibrated in her hand, and she cheered up slightly when she saw the incoming call was from Della.
She should not have answered the call.
Cassie gave herself a last look in the women’s locker room mirror. “You look good, girl,” she mouthed to her reflection. And she did, even if her eyes were haunted, and her lips drooping.
Her hair looked cute slicked back with a black headband. Her makeup, which she’d now become so used to that she could re-apply it in a few minutes, looked awesome, and her skin was glowing from her workout. She wore a black tank and short skirt under her fitted, faded denim jacket
Chin up, she slung her workout bag over her shoulder, and walked out into the gym. However, a quick scan of the gym said her luck had run out. It seemed Heavy was no longer busy.
He now lounged behind the reception desk, hands planted on the counter as he frowned at the screen of the check-in computer. Which meant Cassie had to walk right by him to exit the gym, the cheating bastard.
It was one thing to imagine him getting it on with the club hoes. It was much, much worse to have verbal confirmation from someone she trusted.
She toyed with the idea of going out the gym’s back door, even though this would set off an alarm, which if it was anything like other public buildings, would be a hideous klaxon of sound, and bring Heavy running anyway.
No, best to just walk right by him and get it over with.
A forty-ish woman walked in as Cassie neared the desk, tossing her long hair as she approached the desk. “Hi, Marcus,” the woman said to Heavy, her voice breathy.
Rowr, Cassie thought. Cougar on the prowl. Although, what the hell, he’d probably go for her. The woman was lean and made-up to the hilt—just his type.
Heavy looked up, and gave the woman a quick smile. “Hey, Rose. Good to see you. Have a great workout, yeah?”
Cassie watched the other woman beam as if he’d handed her a trophy. Yep, he could do Rose on his office desk anytime he wanted. Get in line, Rose. Oh, and don’t forget to get tested afterward.
As Cassie approached the desk, Heavy looked over, and his smile reappeared, this time with an added warmth in his gaze that nearly sucked her in. Would have had she not known what she knew.
“Hey, pixie,” he said to her. “Good workout today. You hit the glutes hard. You remember to stretch out, yeah?”
His gaze flicked to his computer screen, and he tipped his head, beckoning her to his side. “Hey, you got a minute to look at this for me? Trying out a new ad.”
He straightened, and backed toward the open door to his office. “Let’s look at it on my laptop. Got the files open, we can flip back and forth faster.”
Despite her anger at him, Cassie felt a thrill of excitement at his asking for her opinion on his advertising for his precious gym. But asking her to walk into his office? Hell, no.
She curled her lip, not even trying to hide her disgust. “I’ll pass.”
He stopped in the doorway, his smile gone. “Huh? Why not—thought you were the mouthpiece for the ‘female demographic’ and all that.”
“I’m still that,” she shot back, keeping her voice quiet because although she’d like to scream at him, he had clients, and the music wasn’t that loud.
Also, she was classier than that.
“What I am not,” she hissed. “Is in a hurry to cozy up to the desk where you and your fuck buddy get it on. ‘Cause frankly, I don’t trust you to whip out the disinfectant wipes afterward.”
His head went back, and he stared at her like he would at a cute puppy which had suddenly snarled at him.
“Say what?” he said slowly, his face settling into a fearsome scowl, a spot of red on each cheekbone. “You talkin’ about me and Britt? Not sure where you’re getting that notion from—since you couldn’t have seen that, ‘cause it never happened. And she hasn’t been around for quite a while, so got nothin’ to do with you and me.”
She glared back at him. “Didn’t say I saw it—but I trust the person who did. So that’s where I ‘got the notion’.”
He was shaking his head slowly. “Not that it’s anyone’s damn business if it happened, but I’m tellin’ you, it didn’t.”
That stung, because he was right. It wasn’t her business, but for months, she’d wanted it to be. “And I’m telling you, she saw you and Britt, yesterday.” Ugh, she could hardly say that skank’s name. It was bitter as bile on her tongue.
His gaze sharpened like the edge of a blade. “She who—one of your girls? Cause the old ladies of my club better not be spreadin’ lies about me.”
“Oh, for—why would Della spread lies about you?” She rolled her eyes in disgust.
He held up one big hand, palm out. “Wait a minute. Della said this?”
Aargh. Well, she’d already blurted out Della’s name, nothing to do but nod, which she did.
Heavy stood there, his gaze focused far away, something dark working behind it.
Whatever, Cassie was done. She took a step back and turned, hitching her bag over her shoulder. “See you around,” she muttered.
“Wait.” Somehow the command stopped her in her tracks. She frowned over her shoulder, to find him focused on her again, a new look in his eyes, and not a nice one. “Got a janitor service that wipes down everything at night,” he drawled. “So whatever happened on the desk, it’s nice and clean now.”
Cassie blinked. What the hell was he suggesting, that she… and he should… no.
No way.
But then why was he giving her that slow, wicked grin. And damn him to hell for looking so hot with that look on his face.
“What’s the matter, pixie cheeks?” he drawled. “You jealous?”
Cassie gave him a blistering glare. “Number one, do not call me that. And number two, jealous of you?” You wish.”
He chuckled. “Ri-ight. At least be honest, baby.”
Ooooh, how dare he. She squeezed her car keys so tightly they bit into her palm. “Yeah, no wonder they call you Heavy. You’ve even got muscle between your ears.”
He straightened, his look turning hard. “You makin’ fun of my road name now? Thought a daughter of the club would’ve learned more respect than that.”
“She did,” said a familiar voice behind Cassie.
She stiffened, and turned to see her dad standing on the other side of the reception desk. She hadn’t even heard him come in. He did not look happy with her. And since this was rare, shame dropped on her like a heavy, hot blanket.
“He started it,” she mumbled.
“Don’t wanna hear it,” Cooler said, implacable. “You apologize to Heavy for disrespecting him in his place.”
Cassie’s face burned even hotter. “Fine,” she choked. She turned back to Heavy, and met his gaze. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—about your club name, I mean.” She hoped her glare said she did not take back any of the rest of it.
His face relaxed in a smirk. “That’s okay… pixie cheeks.”
Cooler made a strange snorting sound, and Cassie whirled, glaring at him too. Her father pounded his fist on his tee-shirt clad chest, and gave her a penitent look. “Sorry, baby girl. Got a frog in my throat.”
“Right,” she snapped. “Tell you what, you two have a good laugh, on me. It’ll be your last chance for a while.”
Her dad caught her arm as she made to walk away. “Wait, what now?”
She gave him a smile, her back to Heavy. “Yeah, haven’t had a chance to tell you. I’m moving out.”
“Huh?” Heavy said behind her.
“You can’t move,” Cooler protested, his hold on her tightening. “You just got to town, baby girl.”
“Not away, daddy,” she said quickly. “Just into… Spokane. I’m gonna find a different place.”
Cooler frowned at her. “Hope you didn’t go signing a lease or anything, not until I have a chance to vet the place. Make sure it’s an okay neighborhood, with decent security and shit.”
Cassie shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he told her. “If it’s a bad neighborhood, you’re not movin’ there.”
“The apartment next to mine is open,” Heavy drawled. “It’s real safe—‘cause I live in the building.”
Cooler gave Cassie a hopeful look, and she shook her head. “Give it up, both of you. I’m moving out of the Heights, and especially–” she bit off the rest, but oh, she thought it. And especially not next door to her nemesis.
Cooler glanced from her to Heavy and back. “Ah-huh,” he said. “We’ll talk later. Maybe at dinner?”
“Sorry, daddy. I’ll be out. I have a—a date.” Then she walked away, leaving the two behind.
As she slipped into the driver’s seat of her car, facing the gym, Heavy was scowling at her through the windows. This put a smile on her face, even if she had just told two big, fat lies. She’d find a way to make them true, even if she had to pick up a guy in a bar this evening, and use the last of her savings to find a cheap apartment online.
She started her car, but before she could back out of her parking place, her dad came stalking out of the gym after her, a hand up in a clear order to wait. When he was even with her car window, she lowered it, bracing for more words on women’s safety.
But he surprised her. Bracing a hand on the top of her car, he leaned down to give her a quizzical look. “Just curious—you aren’t movin’ outta the Heights because of Heavy, are you?”
“No,” she lied, again. Gah, what was she doing? That was lie number three.
“Mind telling me why you’re so pissed at him, then? Thought you two were workin’ things out.”
Cassie gripped her steering wheel and gritted her teeth. She wanted to share with her dad about as much as she wanted to strip naked and jog around the parking lot.
Speaking of jogging, a car door slammed behind her, and footsteps thudded across the parking lot. In her side mirror she saw Jason jogging toward the gym. His short blond hair was gelled to his idea of perfection, and he wore his Big Iron fitness tee over black pants and trainers.
He tipped his chin to her dad. “Hey, Cooler. Cassie.” He gave her the little-boy grin that made her want to roll her eyes so hard they’d likely get stuck.
“Prospect,” her dad drawled. “Better get on into work, hadn’t you?”
Jason quit smiling and moved toward the gym’s front door. “Uh, yessir. On it.”
Cassie looked up at her dad, who was scowling after Jason. “What’s wrong?” She knew why she didn’t like Jason, but not why her dad did not.
Her dad shook his head. “Just don’t envy Heavy, havin’ to keep that kid in line. But that’s between you an’ me, got it?”
“Sure.” Cassie watched the front door of the gym close behind the prospect. Through the plate-glass windows, she could see him approach the reception desk, where Heavy stood waiting. Heavy’s body language said he was not happy. “Um, what did Jason do this time?”
Cooler drummed his fingers on the roof of her car, eying her, then nodded. “I’ll share, but only ‘cause you should steer clear of the kid anyways. You know the single brothers like to get them some, and that’s fine, at the club or wherever. But not at their workplace, not when it’s a public place with all kinds of people including teens comin’ and goin’.”
Cassie gaped up at him. “Wait, what? Jason—here, at Big Iron? Oh, shi-it. You mean… it was him, and not Heavy in the gym office with–with that Britt?”
“Yep, Heavy just shared that with me. Wait… you gals thought that was Heavy?” Her dad gave her a look of sheer disapproval. “Jay-zus. Ain’t sayin’ Heavy is a saint, ‘cause he is not, but one thing he is, is smarter than to fuck around when he’s seeing my daughter. He’s also dedicated to making this gym a success. And he is not gonna jeopardize that by goin’ at it with some bitch, while the front door is unlocked.”
Too busy digesting his words to even think of lying, Cassie said, “Della saw—I mean, she thought she saw Heavy with her.”
Her dad snorted. “Della needs to get her facts straight before she runs her mouth. And you can bet I’ll be havin’ a chat with her and her man to say so.”
Cassie nodded dumbly. She watched Heavy speaking to Jason, a thunderous scowl on his face, muscles taut, one long arm extended as he jabbed a finger toward his office door.
It hadn’t been Heavy with Britt. That meant that he hadn’t gone straight from her, back to another woman… probably?
After all, he was a biker, and a single man.
She loved her dad, and had deep affection for her ‘uncles’ Rocker, T-Bear, Moke, Pete and Webb, and just as deep a respect for their president Stick, but she was under no illusions about their histories with women when they’d been single.
And Heavy was hotter than the rest of the guys put together. So how was she supposed to believe he would keep it in his pants just because they’d hooked up once? After all, she was the only one who’d gotten off.
He and Jason were both talking at once now, and both of them looked pissed off. Too bad for Jason, he looked like a banty rooster next to Heavy. She hoped they didn’t come to blows, but if they did, Jason was going down.
“So that’s why you were so pissed at Heavy,” her dad said, a quiver in his voice. “Jaysus. Poor guy looked like a fluffy little kitten turned on him.”
Cassie flushed. “Whatever, dad. I need to get going.”
She winced as Jason yelled something at Heavy, fists clenched at his sides, and Heavy responded by narrowing his eyes and leaning forward, looming over the slighter Jason in a way that if she were Jason, she’d be backing away—fast. Unfortunately, Jason puffed out his chest in response, which made him look ridiculous as a puppy trying to menace a full-grown Rottweiler.
“Uh, maybe you should go in there and keep Heavy from killing Jason?” she suggested.
“You may be right. Sit tight, baby girl.” Her dad stepped up onto the sidewalk, just as Jason shoved the gym door open, so hard the glass shuddered in the heavy metal frame. His face was red, his jaw clenched, his eyes flashing.
“Asshole just fired me,” he complained loudly to Cooler, his voice ringing through the quiet parking lot. “Can he do that?”
Cassie winced again. She could’ve told him that was the wrong way to talk about one Flyer brother to another.
“Reckon he just did,” her dad said. “His gym, his decision, prospect. If I was you, I’d think hard before I said more about a brother.”
Jason shifted from one foot to another in agitation, fists clenching and unclenching. “But I can’t lose this job. I—she…” He bit off whatever he’d been about to say, and shook his head like a pup who refused to let go of his owner’s shoe. “You gotta help me, Cooler.”
“I don’t gotta do nothin’, prospect,” Cooler said, his voice now cold. “Now go home, and cool off.”
Jason moved, finally, backing away a step before turning and stalking past Cassie’s car toward his silver pickup, looking like a toddler about to pitch a screaming fit.
She looked away as he passed, because awkward.
A pair of women in fashionable workout wear, their hair and makeup perfect, came along the sidewalk chatting. A man approached from the other direction, holding the door for them with a big smile. They ignored him, their gazes on the man behind the gym desk.
“Hi, Heavy,” one cooed, her voice carrying out the open gym door.
Strangely, Heavy gave them a distracted nod, then walked right on by them, following Jason out onto the sidewalk. “Wait, where’s he going?” Cassie asked her dad. “He has customers.”
Strangely, Heavy stepped out onto the sidewalk, and looked straight at her through her car’s front window. Then he beckoned her with the imperious curl of one thick index finger. “Cassie, come in here,” he called. “Need you at the desk.”
She sat up straight. Wait, what? She stuck her head out her car window. “I don’t work for you,” she called back.
Her dad flicked her arm with his finger. “A brother needs your help. Flyer family helps when needed, you know that.”
Cassie groaned, biting back the urge to tell him what he could do with this. Instead she switched off the ignition, and reached for her bag. “Okay, fine,” she muttered.
“That’s my baby girl.”
By the time she’d locked her car, given her dad a goodbye hug, and entered the gym, Heavy had all three clients checked in. He stood waiting for her, scowl gone but impatience in every twitch of his tall, massive frame.
“Come around here,” he ordered, holding out a lanyard from which a key dangled. “You can stow your bag in my office. Here’s the key to that door.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a syrupy smile. “I’m happy to help you, for an hour or so.”
Instead of taking the hint and thanking her, he picked up a black marker, and reached for her hand. “Here’s the code to the back door.” Her left hand in his big, callused, extra-warm one, he jotted four numbers on the inside of her wrist.
She frowned at the black ink on her fair skin, ignoring the curl of pleasure his touch sent through her. “I’m fine at memorizing only four digits, y’know.”
“I change the code every couple days.” He turned one brawny wrist, showing her the numbers written on his own skin. “No point in remembering it. Okay, here’s the check-in process. Username is admin, and the password is… ah…”
When he stopped speaking, she looked from the computer screen to him, her brows raised. He was giving her the side-eye, his lips pulled to one side as if he was trying not to smirk. His eyes gave him away—they were twinkling.
“What?” she asked suspiciously.
He cleared his throat. “The new password is PixieCheeks2024.”
“What?” Reacting without thought, Cassie kicked him in the ankle with the side of her foot, hard. He flinched, but did it snickering, his big body quivering with mirth as he typed swiftly.
“You change that password right now!” she hissed, her face burning with anger.
He side-stepped away from her, as if wary of being kicked again. Which he should be, except her foot hurt from kicking him the first time. Should have aimed the toe of her cute black bootie at his rock-hard ankle, instead of the side of her foot.
“Can’t,” he said. “I have clients to take care of. Here’s the check-in screen, and here’s where you enter the expense on their bill if they wanna buy a smoothie or snack.”
Fuming, Cassie forced her attention back to the computer screen.
“You got it?” he asked, nudging her arm with his.
“Of course I got it,” she muttered. “But I’ll get you back, Heavy Hanks. You just wait.”
“Pixie,” he drawled, with a glinting look down at her. “I’m shiverin’ in my boots.”
She glared after him as he sauntered away, all master of his domain, with his two clients smiling and tossing their hair as he approached them.
Ugh, she didn’t know what she’d do to get back at him, but it was gonna be epic.
It had to be, to top this.
“Hey, little Cassie, whatcha doin’ behind the desk here?” boomed a deep, familiar voice. Cassie looked up to see T-Bear filling the open gym doorway.
“Hi, Uncle T.” She smiled at the ginger biker as he approached the desk. He was a goof, with the enthusiasm of a ten-year-old boy in a huge, barrel-chested man’s body. “Ready to work out?”
“You bet I am,” he agreed, beaming. “This set-up Heavy’s got here is primo. Pree-mo! Gotta keep up my muscles, ya know. Manda likes it when I flex.” He winked and posed for her, waggling his brows as he did so. “Can’t touch this, huh? Huh?”
Cassie giggled, and clapped a hand to her heart. “That’s for sure. Manda’s a lucky woman.”
He beamed, his freckled face creasing, eyes twinkling. “Ain’t that the truth? I tell her so every day. All right, you hold down the fort here, and I’ll go show these rookies how a real man pumps iron. And gotta say, it’s real nice of you to help out your man. Brother needs a good woman at his side.”
And he had to go there. As he lumbered away, Cassie scowled at the check-in computer.
She was definitely going to find a new gym.
Cassie had thought she'd get bored working the Big Iron reception desk. But far from it, she stayed busy. So busy, the rest of the morning flew by. So busy, she didn’t have time to think of a way to get even with Heavy.
Heavy had a string of clients he took through workouts, including a small group of high school boys. The three boys, lanky and coltish, eyed Heavy with clear awe and admiration.
Cassie couldn’t help smiling to herself as she watched the three hang on his words, and do their best to emulate his moves, and then strut around after their workout session, chests puffed out as if they'd suddenly grown in girth and weight.
At noon, just when her tummy was beginning to growl with hunger and she was contemplating fixing herself a protein fruit smoothie, Heavy waved goodbye to the last of his clients, and moved around the gym, straightening equipment and picking up a stray workout towel to toss it in the bin at the end of the reception desk.
He raised his brows at Cassie. "Looks like you stayed busy."
“Like you were paying attention,” she said. “I could’ve taken a nap in your office, you wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Uh, no. This is my business. I notice everything.”
“Oh, really? You didn’t notice this.” She threw out an arm, Vanna White style, toward the shelves under the glassed-in front counter.
He followed the gesture with his gaze. "Whoa. You rearranged everything."
"Yes," she said. "By not only type, but size. Now your customers can see all the protein bars together, and the fruity-whatever-bars together. As a result, I've sold $72.99 worth of snacks." She'd also moved those stupid Fitness Lab supplements off to one side.
His brows flew up again, and he gave her a slow smile. "Okay, then. Thanks, pixie. And here, try a fruity-whatever-bar. You like strawberry or apricot?"
"Apricot," she decided, because dried apricots were the bomb. She took the bar he held out, tore the wrapper open, and bit into it. "Mm-hmm," she said with approval . "Not bad."
She indicated the office door. "I can look at your ad before I go, if you want."
His gaze cooled. "Sure you want to risk it? Since it's where I hook up with all my fuck-buddies."
Heat burned under her skin, but she held his gaze. "Hey—all I knew was what I was told."
"Yeah, you believe everything you're told, you're not as smart as I thought."
She flung up her hands, still holding the remains of her apricot bar. "I said I was sorry. What more do you want?" Something hit the counter with a small plunk, and she looked over to see the rest of her fruit bar mashed on the countertop next to the keyboard.
"Maybe for you not to toss food at my computer," he said mildly. "Now, you gonna look at that ad for me?"
She dropped the rest of her snack in the trash along with the wrapper, avoiding his amused gaze for all she was worth. "Fine." She was dying to, but she’d rather flash everyone in the gym than admit that.
He held out a long arm toward the open office door. "After you."
She walked before him into the small office and around the desk, positioned facing the gym, which meant the computer faced the back wall. She glanced around the bare space and frowned. "Kinda bare in here. Don't you have any photos from when you competed, or anything?"
Heavy moved past her, brushing her back with his front, which sent unwelcome shivers of pleasure through her. "Yeah, I do. And a bunch of trophies. Just... haven't gotten 'em out yet. You think people wanna see 'em?"
She looked up into his face in astonishment. He looked self-conscious, which was actually way cute for someone of his size and brawn.
"Uh, yeah," she said. "Heavy, the guys who come in here all want to be you, and the gals..." she wrinkled her nose. "Forget them for now. Yes, you need to get the trophies and the photos out, and use them. Your image is part of your brand."
"Okay then. I'll get 'em out."
It was on the tip of her tongue to tease him more, and tell him that if he wore his competition singlet to the gym, he could sell photo ops with all the women. But that sounded like she wanted to see him in it--which she did, but she'd hold her breath until she passed out before admitting that to him. Also, she had to get her mind off of his muscles before she offered to bend over his desk herself.
"The ads?" she reminded him. And of course her voice came out breathy. She cleared her throat briskly, staring at the computer as he gave her a sidelong look.
"Sure," he said, leaning down to tap the keyboard.
Cassie studied the ad he brought up on the screen.
“It’s… okay,” she said slowly.
He eyed her. "Can you be more specific? You have a degree in this shit, right?”
"AA in business and merchandising."
He nodded. "Cool, so advertising is a part of that, right? You worried I'm gonna get mad if you're critical? Don't be. I asked, that means I wanna know. Don't wanna waste my money on shit that's not gonna work."
She hesitated, and he nudged her with his elbow. "Besides, you have a chance to speak for the ladies, take it."
"I think you mean the female demographic. But fine, you want my opinion, here it is. The ad is professionally done—attractive model, nice font, and the white background is clean."
He narrowed his eyes. "But...?"
"But, you're not just selling gym memberships,” she said, sucking in the side of her lower lip as she thought. “You're selling the dream. People, clients, come to your gym, they get a nice place to workout, fine. But the reason they come--at least a good number of them--is because they want to live their dream life. That includes having a bangin' body, but why? Well, so they can attract the kind of people they want to date."
"Or bang," he added, a smile in his deep voice. “With their bangin’ body.”
"Uh… right." She kept her gaze on the computer screen, but that didn't mean her body didn't react to those words in that voice. Had the temperature just shot up in here?
"So basically," he said, shifting again, closer so his warm breath fanned her cheek. "You're saying what I'm really selling here is sex."
Ohhh, no, did he have to say 'sex' in that deep, growly voice? If she weren't bracing her hands on his desk, her knees would melt. Of course, then he’d have to hold her up...
Wait, no—his ad. She focused with an effort
"Everybody is selling sex," she said. "It's, uh, it's basic. Once our needs for food, shelter and safety and belonging are satisfied, we go looking to procreate."
"Basic," he repeated. "Yeah, I'd say sex is pretty fuckin' basic... pixie. And I'm a basic kinda guy."
She closed her eyes. "Would you stop?" Before she forgot he was not for her, and did something stupid?
"You goin' shy on me, pixie?" he chuckled, his big body quivering against her side. "Didn't think you had a shy bone in your hot little body."
"I don't. You are just so..."
"Basic?" he murmured in her ear, his warm breath and deep voice sending a shiver through her, which she valiantly ignored.
"Irritating." Maddening. Incredibly sexy.
"Huh," he said, still with that chuckle in his voice. "Lucky for you then, that I gotta get back to work."
"You do?" She twisted to look up at him, disappointment shredding her haze of arousal.
He took in her expression, his gaze warm and lazy. "Yeah. Gotta get out there and sell the dream. But first, I need somethin' from you."
"What?"
He leaned in so close his breath puffed on her lips when he spoke. "Another kiss."
“I’m mad at you,” she breathed, frowning up at him.
“S’okay,” he muttered. “You don’t have to kiss me back.”
His lips met hers, warm and soft, then his tongue slicked against her lip as he sucked gently on her lower lip, and Cassie melted against him, so hot and hard under his compression tee. She made a tiny sound of sheer pleasure as his arms closed around her.
His mouth was warm and slow, and drove all other thoughts from her mind. For a long moment, the only sound was their breath, a deep, answering murmur of pleasure in his throat, and the clink of weights at the other end of the gym.
When he drew back with a last peck at her wet lips, she made a wordless sound of protest.
“You want another one?” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against hers.
“Uh-huh.” She stood on tiptoe to reach his lips again, but he straightened, his arms slipping away. He gave her a smack on the ass that had her eyes flying open in shock.
"Sorry, pixie," he said. "New clients just walked in. Plus, we really shouldn’t be making out, seeing’s how you have a date with some other guy this evening, and all."
She glared up at him, rubbing her bottom where he’d smacked her.
“Ooh, you think you’re so smart,” she sputtered. She swiped off her lips with the back of her hand, and glared up at him, wishing she could burn a hole in him with her gaze like one of those super-heroines.
“Smart would be if I’d put the blinds down,” he told her, reaching down and adjusting himself in his snug track pants with one hand, the way guys did—although she wished he would not do it in front of her, because good lawdy, ms clawdy, it gave her shivers in her lady parts even though she was angry enough at him to spit. “’Cause then maybe I could’ve gotten you over my desk.”
“I don’t think so,” Cassie managed, with one horrified look at the desk. Had she just been making out with him right here, in his office? The same office where Jason and that skank Britt had banged?
"Oh, my God," she mumbled. "Your customers are gonna think this place is as big of a sin bin as the clubhouse."
"Nah," Heavy said, a little smile playing on those magic lips of his. "You and me will wait till after hours."
She huffed, narrowing her eyes at him. "You and I will not doing anything else in this office, biker man." Or anywhere else. Or she'd wind up falling for him all over again--ugh. What was she, a complete idiot?
He pulled his lips to one side, and eyed the office window. "Not with the blinds open, that's for damn sure."
He gave her a wink, and then a gentle push toward the office door. "You go on and tell your date you can’t make it after all. I'll text you later."
"I am not coming back here for a booty call," she snapped, flicking a hand at their surroundings.
"Damn. Well, can't blame a guy for dreamin'." He didn't look too disappointed, but maybe that was because he managed to get in a squeeze of her ass on their way out of his office.
Cassie tried to elbow him, and missed, to her chagrin and his amusement.
The new arrivals were Della and Shelle, and to her dismay, they appeared to guess instantly what had been going on in Heavy’s office.
"Hi, Heavy. Hi, Cassie," the two chorused, their gazes dancing between her and Heavy.
“Hi,” Cassie managed, wishing she’d chosen friends who didn’t know just how bikers put their sexy moves on a girl.
“Hey.” Heavy’s voice had cooled considerably. "What's up?"
Cassie was wondering the same thing, as her friends were not dressed to workout. Their hair was styled, they both wore makeup, and carried purses over their shoulders. Della wore a down jacket, pale pink, and Shelle was bundled in a beige wool wrap coat.
"We're here to take Cassie out for lunch," Della announced. “Since she had to work all morning.”
"And?" Shelle prompted her.
Della gave Heavy a contrite look. 'Yeah. And, Heavy, I'm so sorry I said it was you with that skanky ho in your office. I should've made sure before I spoke up."
"Word choice," Shelle said, wrinkling her nose.
Della's brows shot together. "Hey, any bitch that goes right from a Flyer to one of his employees in his place of business is a skanky ho, so.... Anyway, sorry if I caused trouble for you, Heavy."
"Okay," he said easily. "Appreciate you saying so."
Cassie was grinning now. Della was just Della. She told it like it was, no frills, no wrapping things up with pretty words.
Della tipped her head and gave him a hopeful smile. "So, we're square?"
"Square," he agreed.
"Buddies again?" she went on, her eyes twinkling again. "I'll buy the shots at the Hangar, and we can play some pool and shoot the shit?'
Heavy snorted. "Della. We're good."
She beamed and bounced up on her toes, making her fall of straight, black hair bounce. "Okay. Yay."
Shelle rolled her eyes at Cassie. "So, late lunch? We're going to the Hangar."
"Best burgers in town," Heavy agreed.
"Hey, we can order you one, too," Della offered. "With fries. Cassie can drop it by after."She winked at Cassie, not even trying to hide it.
"Nah," he said. "I got my lunch with me, but thanks."
He squeezed Cassie's ass again, as if she'd been the one to offer to bring him lunch. Having decided that kicking him in the ankle hurt her more than it did him, she retaliated by brushing the back of her fingers over his groin—but met the hard bulge of his athletic cup. It twitched under her hand, and she jerked her hand away.
Heavy's torso quivered, as if he was laughing silently.
Della, of course, couldn’t see this behind the counter. She pulled a face at him. "Ugh, please tell me you're not chugging one of those protein shakes for a meal. Rav tried to get me to drink that shit—it's gross."
He shrugged. "I watch what I eat during the week. Protein shakes are part of that, yeah."
Della opened her mouth again, but Cassie was done. A person should be able to eat or drink what they wanted, without others ragging on them. She'd listened to her mother's criticism for most of her life, on food choices, portion size, etc.
"Enjoy your shake," she said, twisting to look up at Heavy. "I wanna try one of your banana-pineapple smoothies next time I'm here."
He smiled down at her. "On the house. Thanks again for helping out."
"Yeah, where's Jason?" Della asked, looking around. "Or should I ask?"
Heavy straightened. "Doesn't work here anymore. So I don't know or care where he is. Except now I've gotta find someone to take his spot here.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Della said. “Maybe you should hire Cassie.”
Cassie glared at her. “I don’t think—“ she began.
“Good idea,” Heavy interrupted her. “She did a great job today, even helped me out with advertising. But right now, I got more clients on the way in. You ladies enjoy your lunch."
Before Cassie could even think of protesting, he bent and gave her a swift kiss, and then strode away. Leaving Cassie staring after him, trying to find the word to protest, and Della and Shelle watching her, smiling.
Cassie walked outside with Della and Shelle, shrugging on her own coat.
The three of them stopped in front of Della's red Chevy truck. "Want to ride with us?" Della asked. "And pick up your car here after?" Her smile said that way Cassie could see Heavy again too.
"No, I'll drive," Cassie said. "Meet you there."
"So glad you can come with us," Shelle said. "Missed you these last couple of months. See you there."
“Same here.”
Cassie got into her car and started it up, feeling a little bit like a leaf from one of the young oak trees someone had planted alongside the parking lot. The leaves were green, being whipped around in the cool breeze that had sprung up ahead of the front moving in from the west. Some looked like they might tug free of their twigs and blow away, but they wouldn’t. They’d hang on, and grow stronger.
And so would she. She had friends, she had a degree, she had her family.
She clung to her steering wheel as the motor purred to life. She still had faith in life, that it would turn out well.
And as far as Heavy and her? She needed to smarten up and keep her cute new workout wear on around him. And quit playing grab-ass behind the front desk at his gym.
Her phone buzzed.
HeavHo: U n me date nit Sat
PixiChx: Scus me?? U frgt 2 ask if I wnt nothr dat wth U
HeavHo: Nu hir @ gym, so Dat #2. Pck U up @ 6 ;D
PixiChx: Fin. U wnt 2 feed me Ill do dat. Thn wer dun.
When he didn't reply she ground her teeth. Arrogant mountain of muscle.
She put her car in gear, and drove out of the lot, off to lunch with her friends.
Nothing about her relationship so far—or whatever the hell this was—with Heavy had been normal. So Cassie didn’t know why she expected their first date to be that.
It started fine. She did all the normal things--spent nearly an hour fussing with her hair, her makeup, the right earrings to go with her outfit. Which also took time to choose. Should she wear a skirt? Jeans, or leggings? A sexy top, or a baggy sweater that announced this was not a biker booty call?
Finally she was ready, dressed in her favorite skinny jeans, faded and so soft they molded to her legs, with strategic rips at the knees and mid-thigh. She topped them with a cream-and-black layered gauze top that floated to just above her waist, and skimmed her arms with bell sleeves. With her high-heeled booties on her feet, her black leather jacket at hand, she was ready.
Her hair was tousled perfection, her heavy bang teasing her brows, her silver waterfall earrings dangling fron her ears, and a heavy silver bangle on her wrist. A thin waterfall necklace with varied tiny bangles fell to just above the vee of her top.
Heavy was right on time.
Her tummy gave a funny little leap when she heard the doorbell. Grabbing her things from her bed, she dodged a pile of discarded clothing and hurried from her bedroom.
But when she took a breath, let it out and swung the front door open, Cassie got her first inkling that something was wrong.
Heavy towered outside the front door, as he should. And he looked good, in faded jeans that strained over his brawny legs, boots and a leather jacket over a dark green sweater. He’d just had a haircut, his short hair tamed ruthlessly into a part high on one side.
She wanted to show her appreciation by leaping forward and up, wrapping her arms and legs around him and giving him a big, wet kiss.
Except that he didn’t seem to even notice she was there.
For instead of looking her over with those gorgeous hazel eyes and showing her his dimple, and his appreciation for her , he was not even looking at her. Instead, he was scowling at his phone, which he held in both hands, his thumbs and flying as he texted.
“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, his brows tightening in a threatening line over his narrowed eyes. “Dumb-ass.”
Cassie raised her brows and set a hand on her hip. “Hello to you too,” she said. “Is this not a good time for you, big guy? ‘Cause I can go back inside and catch up on the latest season of Naked and Afraid.”
“Don’t move,” Heavy growled without looking at her. “Just gotta straighten out my new dipshit employee, Toby, who thinks he’s gonna leave two hours early ‘cause the gym is empty, his buddies went out to the bars and he wants to go with ‘em.”
“What?” Cassie demanded, losing her attitude in empathy. “He can’t do that. Clients need to know your hours are your hours, and you’ll be open if they show up.”
“That’s right.” He stared at his phone screen for a second, and then sighed and tapped it shut, shoving it into his pocket with the same motion.
His gaze started low, traveled up her legs, over her torso, and lit on her face, lingering on her lips. As his gaze met hers, he smiled crookedly, one side of his wide mouth kicking up. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she replied, feeling her own smile take over her face. “Do you need to stop by the gym?”
He eyed her. “That okay with you? Tonight’s the first time I’ve trusted Toby to lock up. Turns out maybe I shouldn’t have.”
She nodded. “Sure. You gotta set him straight.”
“Or fire his ass,” he muttered. “Okay, thanks. We’ll stop by there, and then head out somewhere.”
“Okay.” She pulled the door shut behind her. Dropping the strap of her small cross-body bag over her neck, she shrugged into her jacket.
“Ready?” When she nodded, he held out one hand. Cassie put hers in his palm, and his huge paw enfolded hers, warm and strong and calloused. It felt wonderful. She walked beside him to his silver pickup truck, feeling as if they were dancing to a tune only they could hear.
He opened her door and held it wide. Then, looking down at her, he grinned and reached to put his hands on her waist and lift her right off the ground. Cassie barely had time to let out a squeak of shock before she was deposited gently in the passenger seat.
“What?” she gasped, giving him wide eyes.
He leaned in and grinned at her. “Figured we’d save time if you didn’t have to climb all the way up there.”
And with that, he shut the truck door, and sauntered around to get in on his side.
“Very funny,” she muttered as he closed his door behind him. “I’m not that short.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, you are, pixie.”
She reached over and poked him in the arm. “Am not. Everyone looks small to you, mammoth man.”
His deep huh-huh of laughter melded with the muted roar of the truck motor starting up.
Since he was backing the truck out, Cassie didn’t poke him again. Any child of Mac Carson knew better than to distract the driver. Anything else she might have said would’ve been lost in the beat of Tim Montana’s ‘Sucker Punch‘ on the truck stereo.
She was smiling to herself as she settled more comfortably in the leather seat. M-mm, his truck smelled like him. Clean man with a little shaving cologne, and leather. Good thing he always smelled so nice, since there was a lot of him. If he didn’t shower regularly, that would be a whole lot of guy-stank.
“Also,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, sexy rumble as he paused the truck at the end of the block, and the soundtrack along with it. “If I had to watch your ass wiggle as you climbed up, I would’ve had to put my hands on it… and we woulda likely not got out of this lot.”
Cassie’s body gave a squeeze of sheer need at this. But she tossed her head. “In your dreams, biker man.”
“Nah, in my dreams, the weather’s perfect, and we’re out in the country somewhere, in the shade of a big tree. And I have you bent over my bike, wearing nothin’ but a lace thong.”
It was a good thing they drove out onto the next street, and he accelerated, because all Cassie could do was sit there, her insides going soft and hot as melted caramel. Her brain wasn’t in much better shape.
Oh, mama, she thought she’d wanted him before.
But now that she’d some of his loving, she wanted more. It was back, worse than before. She knew how his skin smelled, in the curve of his thick neck. And she knew what he felt like in her arms, and the hot satin texture of his skin under her hands.
But she wanted—no, needed, to feel him inside her. She needed to feel the surging power of his big body when he fucked.
And his dirty talk was only making her craving worse… so much worse.
He looked over at her. “What?” he asked, a smirk in his voice.
“Nothing,” she said quickly, her face burning. “Let’s listen to some more music.”
She leaned forward and pushed the button, and the sounds of classic rock filled the cab. Oh, great, some rocker chick singing about how she wanted to breathe in a man, consume him. Gah, why were so many songs about lust? Of course, don’t forget the ones about heartbreak, ‘cause that came next.
But not for her, ‘cause she was not falling for him, not again. She was over her childish crush.
But she still wanted to do all the filthy, grownup things.