I lasted in my room for about twenty minutes before I wanted to scream.
Full of nervous energy, I paced from the window to the door, around the bathroom and back again, feeling like a rat in a cage. Anger, humiliation, betrayal, hurt: a thousand emotions whirled around in my head while I tried to figure out what had happened and what part my roommate had played in it.
What did he mean when he’d said she had to go under the radar for her own safety? Safety from who? Or what? And where was she now? Then I remembered her passport. She wouldn’t need it if she hadn’t left the country.
I sat at my computer and opened up a browser window. I Googled her, but found nothing other than what I already knew. Then I Googled Rob and his parents and didn’t get much further. I did some more digging in different ways, but my expertise was in shopping carts and free trade tote bags, not hacking into databases, so there wasn’t much more I could do with my own knowledge and resources at hand.
Then I thought of someone who could cast a wider net.
My parents were on that world cruise, so I had to do a search to find the contact information for my dad’s old friend. It was the Saturday before Christmas, but I knew James O’Neil, Esquire didn’t go to the bathroom without his iPhone, so I knew he’d get my message. I sent him off an e-mail with the details and got his confirmation almost immediately that he’d be back to me as soon as he could.
That taken care of, I stood up again, looking around my dorm room for something to do and started pacing again. On my third trip around the room, my eyes landed on my gym bag. “That’ll do it,” I said to myself as I grabbed the handles and headed down and through the building to the rec center.
~ ♥ ~
I changed into my gym clothes and sat on the bench to tie my shoes. My mind still whirled with what I’d learned and what to think; I had nothing but time to try to work it out. At least until I heard back from James.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge at the door and headed out into the workout room, thinking a good hard sprint on the treadmill would help burn off some of my rage. But as I left the locker room, I heard music. Loud music. I followed the sound down to the gym and stopped at the open door when I realized it wasn’t the cleaners who had cranked the sound system.
A guy was jogging on one of treadmills, his back to me, facing the windows that overlooked the pool. It seemed so weird to see a guy in the Rosewood workout room that it didn’t sink in right away what I was seeing: a shirtless, cut guy with tattoos. Hot. Then I realized who this shirtless cut guy was.
“Danny,” I breathed.
I took the opportunity to discreetly ogle him while he ran, wishing I was close enough to see the tattoos in detail. Still, what I could see: a broad muscular back and big, hard biceps was more than enough to look at. He wore a pair of running shorts and as my eyes drifted down his fit body, I took in the toned thighs and calves as he ran. I’d never been a religious girl, but I suddenly felt like thanking God for the perfection in front of me.
He reached onto the tray of his treadmill and pointed a remote at the sound system, turning down the music. Suddenly, the rhythmic thumping of his feet and the whirrrr of the belt was the only sound in the room other than maybe my heart thumping loudly in my chest. Though I hoped he couldn’t hear that. “Emmeline?”
I gasped.
“You just going to stand there?”
When I didn’t move or say anything, he hit the stop button and hopped off the treadmill, turning toward me. “I saw your reflection in the window,” he said in explanation, grabbing a small towel draped over the side rail of the treadmill and using it to wipe off his face.
I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “What are you doing here?” I asked, forcing my eyes to stay on his, because if I allowed myself to look at his bare, sweaty, perfect chest while he dragged that towel over his pecs, I wasn’t going to be able to hold a conversation.
He shrugged. “House-sitting. The dean said the place would be empty.”
“I’ll leave you to finish,” I said, taking a step back.
“No, it’s okay. Come in; I don’t want to keep you from your own gym. We can work out together, can’t we?”
As I stood there, gaping at him, he smiled. That smile I’d seen only the one time before. And it was mesmerizing when it was aimed at me. “I promise I won’t yell at you,” he said, that smile getting wider until it suddenly dissolved. He dropped his chin, looking up at me through long lashes. “...or kiss you.”
I was happy about the former, but as I stepped over to the treadmills, being careful not to look at him but unable to keep from smelling the masculine scent of clean man sweat, I wasn’t so sure about the latter.
~ ♥ ~
Other than using it as a technique to burn off rage and what was required for school, I wasn’t much of a runner, but there I was jogging on a treadmill trying not to fall down or have a stroke next to this perfect specimen of the male form. He made it look easy and very, very good. I made it look, well, not good.
We were both working pretty hard, so chatting wasn’t really a possibility, but still, there was a weird electrical current passing between us. At least, it felt that way to me; maybe he wasn’t feeling it, but I didn’t think that was the case. It was hard to sneak peeks at him without being noticed, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try: when I reached for my water, turned my head to wipe my face on my sleeve, tried to catch his reflection in the window in front of us. One time I thought I caught him looking at me, but I glanced away as though I didn’t see it.
Finally, after about twenty minutes and long enough that I felt I was going to need a double lung and heart transplant, he hit stop and I did the same. My anger over Rob had reduced to a simmer on the back-burner and I was more than ready for a shower and another rom-com or four. Danny threw his t-shirt on, which I was kind of glad for, since it was hard to talk to him while he was shirtless and I was preparing to bid him a goodbye, one that I felt would be better delivered to his eyes instead of his nipples.
Except he wasn’t done with his workout. “Time for some weights,” he said.
“Right,” I breathed. “Yeah, me too.” Which was a total lie. Other than orientation in gym class, I’d never done any weight-lifting.
“Great. We can work in together,” he suggested.
“Absolutely.” I nodded, even though I had no idea what he meant. But I quickly found out it meant do heavier weights than you should ever even attempt to lift in order to show this god that you aren’t a weak girl.
The good thing was that in between sets, we could chat and as promised, there was no yelling (or kissing).
I told him about my pet projects, like Gucci for Goats and my e-commerce site, and in turn, found out that he had his own place in town near his work, that Fiona is the dean’s cat and that Danny is the nephew of the fire chief who is friends with the dean and that’s how she knew him. She obviously trusted him to watch her home and her cat, so I had to think that despite him telling me more than once that he was a criminal, whatever had happened must have been an isolated event. Maybe it had all been a big accident that he felt responsible for. Maybe he’d made a mistake and had inadvertently hurt his family. Whatever it was, he hardly seemed like a murderer now as he leaned over my body, spotting me as I did squats with a very heavy barbell.
“You’re doing great,” he said with an encouraging smile.
Busy with trying to keep all my vital organs inside my body, I was unable to respond. Unless rivers of sweat pouring down my face could be construed as a ‘thanks.’
After two sets of those that ended with him having to take the bar from me (with one hand) so I wouldn’t drop it, I’d had enough. It didn’t matter how lonely I was or how much I wanted to be around another human, I couldn’t endure any more of this torture.
“I’m done,” I breathed, wiping my forehead on my sleeve. “I need a shower.”
I didn’t miss the once-over he gave me and knew if I wasn’t already flushed from the exertion, my face would have heated under his gaze. He’d promised no more kissing, but I couldn’t forget about what he’d said about kissing me at the youth center. I got the distinct feeling that despite his promise, he wanted to kiss me again.
“I should go,” I said. It was getting dangerously heated in the gym in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.
He nodded. “It was good working out with you.”
“Ditto. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” I said as I took a final swig of my water before tossing it in the recycle bin and walking toward the change room.
“Looking forward to it,” he said to my back.
I smiled but didn’t turn around, pretending I hadn’t heard.