Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats) (6 page)

BOOK: Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats)
4.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

But the way she bounced over to the dead lift bar… made him reconsider.

Chapter 5

K
at let
the dead lift bar settle gently on the mat before straightening her back and arching just a little to stretch. They were great for the legs… but man, she needed a massage. A good, hard muscle one, not one of those wimpy ones with hot stones and soft music. Maybe she could pay one of the Bobcat trainers to give her a good, hard rubdown after hours, off the books.

She snickered in her head. That sounded entirely unprofessional, though she meant it exactly as it sounded.

“What’s the deal with you and Lambert?”

Kat turned to find a lean man only about an inch taller than her standing nearby, looking mildly curious but equally unconcerned about her presence in the weight room. Men could be picky about women around the weight room, she’d learned. Stupid but true. But most of them had left her alone, watching from a distance but not interfering with her workout. And also not hitting on her or making lewd comments as she bent over to grab a weight or a safety clip.

She appreciated that more than anything.

“Nothing,” she said easily, grabbing the towel the coach named Caleb had offered her earlier. She wiped down her hands and wrists, then headed over to the calf press machine.

The curious bystander followed, resting his shoulder on the wall in front of the machine so she couldn’t miss him. She rolled her eyes and started to look for the right size weights to add. When he did nothing, she sighed. “If you’re going to watch me like a performing zoo animal, could you at least add a twenty-five to that side?”

His dark eyebrows winged up momentarily, but he shrugged and added them. “Really though, he brought you with him for a reason. What’s the deal? You’re not his sister.”

“Nope,” she said, grunting a little as she lifted the weight above her shoulder. It was the awkward angle, not the pounds that made her struggle. But the stranger didn’t offer to share the burden, which she approved of. After she got the weight on and clipped, she double checked his side to be sure it was properly secured.

He scowled at her.

She smiled sweetly. “Just checking.”

“I know how to put a weight on a bar,” he said under his breath.

“How was I supposed to know that? Safety first,” she chirped, then stepped onto the riser and let the bar and padding settle comfortably over her shoulder blades.

“What’s the connection?”

“Agent,” she finally said, then twisted her hands to unrack the bar and began a set of twelve presses with her calves. This one was hard because she always had the instinct to bounce. It took effort and concentration to make the motions of lowering her heels toward the ground smooth and deliberate.

“Your agent hooked you up.”

She racked the bar and stepped forward, still on the riser, which made her an inch taller than the annoying man. Before answering, she surveyed him a moment. Skin that was darker than a tan, probably indicating multiple ethnicities in his genealogy, dark hair that was buzzed nearly to the shape of his head, and eyes that were sharp and such a deep brown they nearly blended in with the pupils. Fit, of course, but not overly tall. Lean rather than muscular. Built for speed, she guessed.

“Running back?”

“Receiver,” he corrected, looking surprised. “Bobcats fan?”

She laughed and shook her head before taking her place under the bar. Before she unracked, she added, “Football is a mystery to me. But it was a shot in the dark. You weren’t going to be a lineman. And everyone knows who the quarterback is even if you hate the sport. Trey Owens is known by all.”

As she went through her next set of twelve, he surveyed her. But she had a feeling it was less about sexual appreciation and more about judging her worthiness.

“So you’re, what, a workout partner?”

“Something… like that,” she said with some effort, racking the bar and stepping out from under it. “What does it matter?”

“Because I like to know who I’m working out with.” His smile wasn’t cocky, exactly, but it wasn’t all that friendly either.

“I’m not distracting anyone, and I’m not in your way.”

“You’re here.”

“So what? Afraid I’m going to press more than you and make you look bad?” She patted his shoulder in a
there, there
gesture and got ready for her last set of calf raises. When she finished and started taking the weights off the right side, she was surprised when he unclipped and removed the weights on the left.

“Are you saying you could press more than me?”

She laughed again. “That would be ridiculous. Hard as I train, biologically that’s unlikely. But,” she added because she couldn’t resist, “strength isn’t the only thing that counts in the game.”

That had him raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah?”

She grinned. “Yeah.”

* * *

M
ichael checked his phone
, shocked he hadn’t missed a call or text from Kat while he’d been in the meeting.
Come get me, I’m tired.
By now she had to be bored senseless.

Unless she was causing problems. Again. Jesus.

Michael broke into a jog as he made his way from the offices at the facility to the weight room. The moment he hit the hallway, he heard the masculine laughter and cheering.

God, please let her not be doing some weird dance routine on top of a weight bench.

But as he opened the door, he wasn’t sure which was worse: her dancing on top of a weight bench, or…

“Lambert!” Caleb walked over, a smile on his face. “She’s a frickin’ machine! She’s about to kick Rodman’s ass. This is the hardest I’ve seen him work in weeks.”

Michael maneuvered around the guys who were standing watching the back of the room where the mats for stretching were and found… well, damn.

Kat and Rodman Holiday were both hauling ass on burpees in what he quickly realized was a competition. They placed their hands on the floor, thrust their legs back into push-up position, hopped them forward again, then jumped as high as they could, arms reaching above them. From the looks of it, they’d been going for a while. Each had a counter standing beside them, keeping track of the number completed as the rest of the guys shouted encouragement—or heckling for Rodman.

Then someone in the crowd yelled, “Ten!”

The countdown was on, everyone joining in with, “Nine, eight, seven,” like it was freaking New Year’s Eve in Times Square.

“How long have they been doing this?” Michael asked to nobody in particular.

“Two minutes total,” came someone’s answer just as the crowd reached one, and both contestants flopped down on the floor, chests heaving, both dripping in sweat.

He maneuvered himself around the guys watching to walk up beside the mat. Kat rolled over onto her back, laughter lighting her face. Her sweatshirt was long gone, and she wore only the sports bra and her shorts. Her stomach and the fronts of her thighs left a sweat print on the mat.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked. God, that sounded pompous.

“What… does it… look like?” she gasped, hand clutched to her stomach as she fought for breath. The hard muscles of her abdomen contracted and stretched with each labored breath.

“Friendly competition,” Rodman said with less effort, though he was clearly still winded.

“And the winner, in two minutes with sixty-three burpees, is Kat Kelly!” Caleb walked between them and grabbed one of Kat’s arms, holding it as high as she could reach from her position flat on the mat. She laughed, and Rodman cursed and rolled onto his stomach again.

“I
told
you not to slow down, man,” his counter said while the guys all cheered and jeered simultaneously.

“This,” one of the linemen said with a leer, “is going on Facebook.” He held up his phone and started walking away, several guys following, asking to see the video.

Lovely. Just fantastic. More video evidence of his complete ineptitude. He started to walk to the teammate with the phone, but then his strength coach clapped a hand over his shoulder. With a mental groan, he watched it unfold, helpless to stop it.

Kat finally sat up, taking the towel another guy handed her before receiving a fist bump of congratulations.

“Can she come back every day?” Caleb asked under his breath. “Seriously, just breathed new life into some of these jackwagons who have been going cruising on autopilot for too long.”

Michael started to snap
no, she sure as hell can’t come back
when he looked around him. Yeah, several guys were still hanging by her, but others had gone back to their workouts and were, to his mind, attacking it with an intensity he hadn’t seen in a while in the weight room. There were always a few guys who lived for weights, but mostly it was a routine they had all become complacent in. Now, though…

Huh.

“It’s up to you, man,” Caleb continued as he checked his clipboard. “But as far as I’m concerned, she’s welcome back, as long as she signs a waiver.” He left Michael to check in a few new arrivals to the weight room.

“Hey.” Kat walked up, zipping her hoodie as she approached. “I can catch a cab back to the apartment if you have practice.”

“I do,” he said slowly. “What, not gonna ask if you can use the sauna or get a massage?”

She wrinkled her nose as she flipped the hair of her ponytail from the collar of her shirt. “That’s going a little too far. Using weights that nobody else is currently using is one thing. Taking up a trainer’s time for a massage… something else entirely. Though I wouldn’t say no to a recommendation for a massage after hours.”

He surveyed her, watching as she still worked to slow her breathing.

“I told you I wouldn’t get in the way. I meant it.”

And he saw she did. For all her antics and love of attention, she had stayed on the fringes in the weight room and actually used it for its intended purpose. And used it well.

“You impressed Caleb,” he said, walking out of the weight room with her. “The strength coach back there. He said you can come back anytime if I was okay with it.”

Her face lit with hope. “Seriously? You’re kidding.”

He might regret it later, but… “Yeah, it’s fine with me.”

“Thank you!” In the empty hallway, she did a little dance of glee, then threw her arms around him for a quick hug. She was gone before he could react, but his arms itched to pull her back against him for another, longer hug.

Perv.

“If you want to catch a cab, I’ll show you where to wait up front. Kristen will help you get one.”

He tried hard not to touch her—even a brush of arms—the rest of the walk to the main desk so he could give his body time to calm down before practice.

* * *

K
at stabbed
a piece of lettuce and glared at it. “This has to be the worst part about my job.”

Aileen Rogers, who had introduced herself as a sports reporter first and Killian Reeves’ wife second, grimaced. “Do you have to eat the rabbit food?”

Kristen Kelpar, the assistant Michael had left her with over two hours earlier, rolled her eyes. “You work out for a billion hours a week, and your least favorite part of your job is eating salad?”

“I like working out.” Kat let the fork settle back into the plastic container that held the take-out salad.

When Michael had introduced Kat to Kristen, he’d left rather rapidly. After Kat had told the assistant she needed a cab, Kristen had immediately asked if she wanted to stay for lunch, as Aileen was also coming in to work on schedules for interviews. They’d welcome the company, she swore.

Let’s see… eating lunch alone in my boring apartment in a city where I know almost nobody or make new friends and have some company?

No brainer.

Kat had the feeling Kristen was about ten years older than her twenty-six but had no problem relating to her. Aileen was closer in age, in her estimation, though she’d achieved a lot in the last few years in her career. Despite the differences, they had immediately fallen into an easy conversation.

“Who likes working out?” Aileen sighed and dipped a fry into some ranch dressing. “I mean, Killian runs, which is obviously for his job and stuff. But I don’t get it.”

BOOK: Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats)
4.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Essays of E. B. White by E. B. White
Full Circle by Irina Shapiro
Can I Get An Amen? by Sarah Healy
A Letter for Annie by Laura Abbot
A Life Worth Living by Irene Brand
Broken Horse by Bonnie Bryant
Sleep No More by Susan Crandall
Checked by Jennifer Jamelli
The Body Reader by Anne Frasier