We danced. We laughed. We teased. We flirted. We never left each other’s side, and when we’d exhausted our energy, we called it a night.
The Rusty Ram was a popular bar in our Belltown neighborhood that served the best pizza, had the dirtiest bathrooms, the friendliest bartenders, happened to be just around the corner from our apartment building, and the go-to for our girls’ nights because we didn’t have to drive.
We could let loose and walk home. Perfect set up.
“Lordy, that was fun.” I stepped out of my heels and scooped them off the ground, the cold cement soothing my aching feet.
“Hey.” Lacey nudged me. “Have you checked out that new gym on Blanchard?”
“What gym?” I had an unfortunate weakness for muscle men.
“Come here.” She hooked her arm through mine and dragged me around the corner. One more block, and we stood in front of a window that stretched the entire length of the refurbished brick building. The bottom floor appeared to be a gym. Above, floor after floor of matching windows. Apartments or condos, maybe.
The front door read Cadence Fight Club, and the gold logo was a simple circle with CFC in the middle. Inside, several people of varying shapes, sizes, and genders gathered around a large mat. In the center of the mat, two men circled each other, fists wrapped, bodies glistening with sweat.
One man, blond and beefy, landed a strike to his opponent, whose back was to me. And what a glorious back. Broad shoulders, slim waist, muscles that rolled and bunched with every move. He bounced from foot to foot, his calves taut and strained. His dark hair curled at the ends in a cute little flip, its boyish charm at odds with the brute force he possessed.
While the blond was larger, his muscles thick, the dark-haired man dominated the space, moving with the grace of a dancer, taunting his opponent.
I slipped my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture because the scene was surreal. Such beauty amidst the violence.
Blondie swung again. Dark and Dangerous ducked and then struck Blondie in the gut, making me wince. As Blondie doubled over, Dark and Dangerous backed away, still bouncing. He danced around the other side of Blondie, grace, rhythm, and raw sex appeal, his face finally coming into view.
My gut clenched. My heart raced. My lungs ceased to work. I gripped Lacey’s arm for balance.
The man was fit, his sweaty skin stretched over finely honed muscle. Dark chestnut-colored hair. Regal nose. Full lips. But those eyes. Dark with thick lashes. Sweet baby Jesus.
He shot a glance our way, rolled his shoulders, and dropped his gaze back to Blondie on the ground, then his head jerked up. His arms fell to his sides and those mesmerizing eyes locked with mine.
For the second time that day, the man stared at me like I was the light at the end of his tunnel, his sunrise and sunset, his morning bacon, his nightcap, his precious. My insides warmed, cheeks blazed.
“Ooh, girl.” Lacey blew a low whistle.
What luck. Twice in one day. That man. The way he looked at me. Had to be fate. Right?
I froze in place. Mere seconds passed, yet an eternity stretched between us, my future revealed, the stars spreading their arms and pointing to my destiny, toward the man behind the glass, the dimpled Adonis.
He was the one.
He told me so with the heat of his gaze.
Just as I found the courage to smile, he was tackled from behind and thrown to the ground, our connection lost. My lust haze lifted and, without looking back, I shoved Lacey forward and left that gym behind, hurrying my pace.
“Oh, my,” my best friend squealed. “Did you see that guy?”
“Which one?”
“The big one with all that sexy blond hair. Dios Mio. Did you see those biceps?” Lacey fanned herself with her free hand. “We need to join that gym.”
I’m not sure why I refrained from telling her that Dark and Dangerous was the man Holden had scuffled with during my attempted breakup speech. Maybe I got a certain thrill from keeping that little secret to myself. “Looks like a fight gym.”
“So? I’ve always wanted to give boxing a try.” Moving in front of me, she raised delicate hands and threw a fake punch, bouncing on her feet, her ample bosoms nearly shaking free of her push-up bra.
We were polar opposites in shape and size. Lacey stood four inches taller than my five-foot-three, had curves that conjured fantasies, and silky raven hair that hung to her small waist and seemed immune to common annoyances such as frizz or split ends.
“I hate fighting.” I dropped my shoes to the ground and wiggled my feet back into the leather sling-backs.
Lacey grabbed my arm to steady me. “But you’ve got a thing for gyms and the men who frequent them.”
“Not after today,” I assured her, finding my balance and continuing toward home.
“Oh, come on,” she pleaded, hands steepled. “I have to meet that guy. He was gorgeous.”
“I’m not spending money on a new gym when I’m perfectly happy at the gym I’ve been going to for over two years now.”
“Might I remind you that Holden spends fifteen hours a day at that gym?”
“Good point.”
We reached the entrance to our apartment building and giggled our way up the stairs, shushing each other, then laughing harder. I hugged her goodnight at her second floor apartment, then made my way up to the fourth where I resided.
A large, unconscious lump of drunken testosterone sat slumped against my door, his face a mangled mess, lip cut and swollen, both eyes boasting varying shades of bruising, and a ridiculous bandage wrapped around his head and under his chin. Thank God, I’d never given him a key to my place.
Funny, the man he’d attacked hadn’t a mark on him that I could tell. Maybe I should’ve stuck around
