Breaking the Rules: The Breaking Series #1 Page 8

  The allure of their banter was too much. She grabbed the phone again, typing out another message. So what are you up to this evening? Still doing squats at the gym?

  His reply came after a few minutes. Already reached my quota. Now I’m in traffic like the rest of LA. You?

  She grinned. Could she convince him to come meet her at the laundromat? That would be terribly lame. But she was desperate to see him. Waiting until Wednesday seemed an eternity. Washing clothes. Mentally preparing myself for tomorrow.

  I’m surprised you can do anything after your workout. I thought maybe you had someone typing these messages for you.

  She laughed out loud. A guy nearby looked up quizzically. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Ringing endorsement for Holt Body Fitness.

  A few moments went by. The buzzing of her phone made her straighten with anticipation. Be sure to leave a Yelp review about needing a wheelchair and dictating text messages. This is the publicity I’ve been waiting for.

  She snorted and shoved the phone away. This guy was too good. How the fuck had she overlooked him this whole time? He had been in her life, in the periphery, for over a decade…and only now she realized he existed. She suddenly felt cheated.

  The dryer buzzed, and she tended to the first load of laundry, lost in a blissful cloud of Travis. He made her feel good. Amid moving back to LA, dealing with her mama’s treatment schedule, getting under Eddie’s thumb again, and the stress of reestablishing her career, he was a bright spot. But none of that really mattered either. He made her feel alive.

  Not that she even needed to feel alive. She felt damn good on her own. But Travis made something else spark. Something she hadn’t even realized had been dormant inside her.

  By the time the last load of laundry was dried, she’d managed to lose herself in the nonfiction book again. When her phone vibrated with a new message, she was positive it couldn’t be Travis.

  But it was. Are you nervous about tomorrow?

  She bit back a smile. A little. Mostly just anxious to get it all underway.

  Let me know how it goes.

  Her heart fluttered. I sure will. Thanks for caring.

  She floated out to the car, laundry in tow, feeling an extra firmness in her step. Was that because of Travis? Him believing in her wasn’t necessary, exactly, but it sure felt nice.

  The whole drive home, she imagined what it might be like to finally kiss him.

  * * *

  The next morning, Amara awoke fifteen minutes early. The excitement of starting her first workday, even if it was just paperwork, vibrated through her. She couldn’t wait to get a feel for the commute, what her new space would look like, how her coworkers were, what the community might think about her. She was confident in her ability to rock the position and be an asset, but establishing herself in her new role would take time.

  She hopped out of bed and hurried into the shower for a quick wake-me-up rinse, part of her daily work routine. After the jolt from the cold water so early in the morning, she crept around the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee. Both her mama and Eddie were fast asleep in their own rooms and would be for hours longer. Mama slept in most days because of the chemo. And Eddie’s schedule was so malleable and unpredictable, she was never sure if he’d be up at seven a.m. or noon.

  While the coffee brewed, she breezed into her bedroom to slip into the outfit she’d laid out the night before. She grinned while she zipped up her pants and tucked in her shirt. God, she loved life. The crispness of the early November morning was already calling to her, the pleasant morning commute, listening to talk radio whispering in her ear.

  Once she was safely in her smart, business-casual attire with coffee mug in hand, she hurried toward the SUV. The morning sun was bright yet gauzy, the sleepiness of the pending morning still palpable. She let the car warm up a bit, shivering against the dry chill of the LA dawn.

  Turning the radio to her favorite local talk radio station, she maneuvered into traffic, pleased by the relative light flow at this hour. That would all change in about fifteen minutes, but for now it felt almost tolerable. The joys of waking early.

  Against the mesmerizing murmur of the morning talk radio, her mind wandered to Travis. What was he doing? Sleeping still? She’d give anything to see him wake up in his bed, see his hair ruffled, eyes sleepy. To cocoon against him in a warm nest of his scent and bedcovers.

  She sighed. Maybe it had been too long since she’d hooked up. Or maybe the West Coast fall had her feeling nostalgic for someone to snuggle up to. There was only a small handful of boyfriends in her adult history, none lasting past the year-and-a-half mark. Maybe she was so starved for a meaningful, romantic attachment that she was imagining possibilities where none existed, like mirages in the desert. Because Travis wasn’t boyfriend material. Hell no.

  Twenty minutes into her commute, the traffic grew denser. By now it was eight thirty, and she was only a couple of miles from her new workplace. Once the cars ground to a halt again, she checked her phone, aiming it for a selfie. She puckered her lips, snagging the perfect angle to show her meticulously applied eyeliner and a bit of cleavage.

  Not bad. Professional yet sexy. Eyeing the picture, a wily thought occurred to her. Travis might like to see this.

  She swiped over to her messages and pulled up the conversation with Travis from the day before. She inserted the photo and sent it alongside, Good morning. Time to rock out.

  Heart pounding, she set the phone down. Traffic inched forward. Was this dumb of her? She couldn’t tell anymore. He made her lose common sense.

  About five minutes later, her phone buzzed. She snatched it up, heart in her throat.

  Morning. You look way perkier than I do.

  She tapped out a quick response. Let’s see it.

  There was a lull, and then her phone began downloading a picture. She squeezed the steering wheel, willing the photo to appear faster.

  And then there he was: his breathtaking boyish face, one eye pinched shut, hair tousled yet deliciously handsome. She whimpered. Why was he so fucking hot?

  She waited until traffic ground to a halt before writing back. Breath caught in her throat, she responded, You’re right. I win.

  You win the Awake prize. I win the Bed prize.

  She snorted, moving the car a bit farther along the freeway. LOL. Fine. We’re both winners. But part of me wishes I could be in your bed too.

  A lazy smile overtook her face as she reread her reply. Then she froze. Fuck. She’d said your bed. She’d totally, 100 percent meant to say my bed. Fuck fuck fuck. Total Freudian shit right there. She hurried to type out a rectifying response when his text came through.

  Oh?

  She grimaced, easing ahead in traffic, heart pounding. That had been too blatant; though true, she most definitely had not intended to say his bed. I meant my bed!!!!!!! Sorry.

  No worries. Mine’s big enough for two. Probably warmer than yours.

  She cracked a grin. Crisis averted. But still, he was dancing the line of platonic and something more. All his texts could be read as regularly friendly or hinting at way more. Maybe a little bit of intentional provocation could clarify that boundary.

  Ah, I need to sleep in my own bed. Can’t do yours. She sent the text and crept forward in traffic. Her exit was just ahead. The first workday was only minutes away.

  Why’s that?

  She grinned as she typed her response. I sleep naked.

  Boom. Time to see where he took that. She pocketed the phone and crept toward the exit lane. Her first workday was about to be fucking great.

  * * *

  “Holt, whatcha looking at?”

  Lex peered over his shoulder, sniffing out the source of his distraction. Travis buried his phone, clearing his throat. “Nothing. Why?”

  “You’ve been staring at it all day. Got a new porno or something?” Lex cracked a grin.

  Travis rolled his eyes. His friend couldn’t know he’d been staring at the private image of Edd
ie’s little sister all day: the business-casual pic she’d snapped that morning and sent to him while he’d been half-awake and vulnerable in his bed.

  The woman was like a lioness. Fierce, hungry, designed to kill. He would be her prey.

  “None of your business.” Travis pushed at Lex’s shoulders, urging him toward the back offices. They’d spent most of the morning training clients and going over paperwork. Eddie would be here soon, and he could never know that Amara had been texting him. That would land him in the doghouse for sure.

  Especially if he ever found out his sister had sent the word naked to him.

  Shivers coursed through him, emanating from his core. After he’d gotten that message, he’d rolled over and groaned into his pillow. Not fucking fair. The glimpse of her tits on display in her business-casual outfit was a certain type of torture combined with that text; had she known? She had to. She was no idiot. Mistaking her bed for his was probably all part of the ploy too.

  Wasn’t cool. Or rather, it was totally cool, if only she weren’t Eddie’s little sis. He never responded to the last text; instead, he’d rolled out of bed and hopped in the shower, eager to start his day with a quick jack-off session under the warm stream of water. His orgasm left him pulsing against the cool tiles of the shower stall, vision black and bright behind his eyelids, Amara’s sweet scent somehow stinging his nostrils.

  Still over twenty-four hours until she came into the gym too. Might as well be an eternity.

  When Eddie showed up for his daily workout, they high-fived and got down to business as usual. Within minutes of Eddie’s warm-up, Travis’s phone buzzed with a new text. His chest tightened, hoping it would be Amara and not one of the endless work texts that streamed through his phone on a daily basis.

  He peeked at it from his pocket. Amara. He kept his face neutral as he opened the new arrival.

  Update: the job is baller. I love all my coworkers. Funding is solid. New home for my passion.

  He fought a grin, pocketing the phone before he got wrapped up in the back-and-forth. He loved getting lost in it, but with Eddie in front of him, it felt like a secret taunt. Hey, look, I’m texting your sister and you don’t know it yet.

  So he fought the urge and let the phone burn away in his pocket, a weight that reminded him of Amara with every movement.

  Toward the end of the workout, Eddie’s face lit up. “Holty, I forgot to tell you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Remember that girl I talked to when we went to the Dinky Bar?”

  Holt nodded. He only remembered her bland friends and the way he’d sneaked off with Amara. “Yeah. Liza or something?”

  “Leesa. Well, we’re meeting up again this week. Alone.”

  Travis grinned. “Sweet, bro.” They high-fived. “No more wingman needs.”

  “None at all. It’s in the bag.”

  After the workout was over, Eddie bumped fists with Travis and headed for the locker room. Travis wandered toward the break room to grab his lunch, pulling his phone from his pocket. On the home screen, several messages awaited him: his mother, wondering if he was visiting the following Sunday; an unknown number that read: Is this Travis Holt???; and Amara, with a photo message.

  He skipped past everything and opened Amara’s message. Her sexy, bronzed face greeted him, lips puckered and pink, winged eyeliner impeccable, fingers in a sideways peace sign with a caption that said: Downtown lunch break. Behind her, in the background, one of his own advertisements dotted the back of a street bench. His silhouette filled the left side of the bench, and in stark letters HOLT BODY FITNESS filled the other side.

  He grinned, eyes roaming the contours of her face, both nervous and desperate for this to go deeper.

  He spent the rest of the day imagining what it might be like to kiss her.

  * * *

  By the following evening at the gym, Travis felt as if he could scale a vertical rock face with how antsy he was to see Amara. She’d be coming into the gym at six instead of seven, confirmed after a whole evening and then following morning of more texts, more photos, more playful yet innocent flirting that both confused and provoked him. How was she the queen of double entendre? Almost everything she said could be friendly and insanely risqué.

  Or maybe that’s just how in deep he was. Any breath from her side could send him into a frenzy.

  At this point, he was hoping he could hold it together. A self-defense class could easily turn sexual if he let it. It wasn’t a practice he condoned with clients, but with her he doubted he’d stick to the rules.

  His game plan wasn’t solid. He didn’t know where he’d take her, how he’d act, what he’d say. He’d figure it out when she got there.

  Play it cool. You’re good at that. You practically invented that.

  It was true. Just not with anybody he’d wanted as badly as Amara.

  At 5:45 p.m., while Travis reviewed the employee schedule at the front desk, Amara sauntered in, gym bag slung over her shoulder. When he looked up, he couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.

  “Come straight from work?” His gaze wandered over her well-fitted, black suit pants and a feminine button-up, with maybe one too many buttons left undone on the top. She eyed him, grinning, as she approached.

  “Sure did. I’m gonna go change real fast.”

  “You wanna work out after I teach you how to kick some dude’s ass, right?”

  “Obviously.” She winked at him and walked past him to the women’s locker rooms. He drew a low breath. So that’s what today was going to be like.

  “She’s hot for you.” The receptionist, Melanie, nudged him, winking dramatically.

  “Stop it.” He clenched his fists. “She’s just a flirt. You don’t know her.”

  “I don’t know her, but I can smell it a mile away when a girl wants to bone.”

  He laughed. “Don’t most girls who come in here want to bone?”

  She shrugged, scribbling in the scheduler. “Probably.”

  Travis rolled his eyes and leaned against the desk, studying the schedule again. “Okay. Let’s move Lex to days on Wednesday next week.”

  Melanie nodded, adding the change. “Anything else?”

  “I’ll be taking the closing shift for a while.” He felt guilty saying it, like maybe Melanie could guess it was linked to Amara. “Put me at twelve-to-nine only starting next week.” That way he could still train Eddie at their regular time…and scoop up Amara’s nightly visits.

  “Every night?” She cocked a brow.

  “Yeah. Start with the next two weeks; then we’ll go from there.”

  She shrugged and modified the schedule. Someone pinched his sides from behind. He spun on his heels and saw Amara grinning up at him.

  “Ready?” He fought the urge to scoop her into his arms. Her smile was infectious.

  “Totally.”

  His jaw clenched as he sized her up from behind. Short, tightly packed, thick thighs that practically begged him to run his fingers up and down their lengths. She wore that fuchsia sports bra from the other day, the one that made her breasts look round and heavy.

  “Where’d you get this?” He tugged at the loose racer back tank top that said HOLT BODY on the front. It was way too big for her.

  “Eddie.” She pulled her hair into a ponytail and then up into a messy topknot. “I wanted to join the club.”

  He led her down a hallway toward the back weight room usually reserved for MMA training and mock fights. With no fights scheduled, they could have a more intimate session. See what sort of lessons were really learned. “You’re already in the club. Didn’t you know?”

  She grinned slyly. “Just wanted to be sure.”

  “How was work today?”

  “Awesome.” Her eyes lit up. “I’m in charge of coordinating a full schedule of events. Some of them are being handed down to me, but I already have ideas for new things I want to incorporate.”

  “Like what?”

  She tipp
ed her head to one side. “I want there to be more community engagement. Events, talks, educational opportunities. Things like that.” She gnawed at her lip for a minute. “I’ve been wondering if you and the trainers might be willing come and give a self-defense class sometime.”

  His eyebrows shot up. She didn’t stop innovating. “That’s a great idea.”

  Excitement washed over her face. “Really?”

  “Yeah. It makes sense… We go to where they are. They learn a little bit about moves that might save them. How could I say no?” Especially when his own mother could have benefited from lessons like that at one point in her life. Guilt slashed through him. How had he been so blinded by profit? To the point that this idea of giving back hadn’t even occurred to him?

  She grinned. “How much would you charge for a day?”

  He shook his head. “Free.”

  Her eyes got round. “Seriously? That’s so generous of you.”

  “I’ll bring Lex, and we can make it fun. And, you know, helpful.”

  “That’s amazing!” She squeezed his arm, smile widening. “A lot of the women there are really nice and would love opportunities like this. I just know it. I want some inspirational speakers to come in too. Women who have lived through violence or abuse of any kind.”

  “Like my mom?”

  Amara’s face dropped. “Oh. Really?”

  He nodded. “She’s happy now. But it was really rough for a while. She has some stories. And she likes to talk about it, actually. She’d be a really good speaker.”

  Her face scrunched up in thought. “I’d love that. Can I get ahold of her sometime so we can talk?”

  “Of course. I’ll give you her number afterward.”

  They went into the darkened weight room. Empty as suspected. Lights tripped on as they walked in, illuminating the room with bright, white light.

  “Fancy.” She checked out the room. When her gaze landed on him, goose bumps emerged.

  “This is my MMA training camp.” He pointed at the octagon nearby, which looked strange and abandoned without throngs of people surrounding it or fighters hopping around inside. “But for now, it’s ours.”