Chapter 8
Daylight
Taking a sip of her steaming coffee that made her face sweat, she grabbed her gym bag out of the back before shutting her car door with her hip. It had been a while since she had attended a gym. Now that the summer had met its peak heat and since Peter had decided to throw a joke or follow her on her runs “to make sure she didn’t fall again,” she had decided she needed a new outlet to get her cardio. The kickboxing class the gym’s website boasted seemed like a fun alternative. Plus, there was air conditioning.
Inside, Tristana went through all the boring membership paperwork, thinking she needed a nap afterward, not an adrenaline-induced activity. By the time she turned the forms in and was handed her new membership card, her coffee was completely gone.
After a quick tour of the gym, the older and handsome gym coordinator escorted her to the kickboxing class that was already well underway. She thanked him then proceeded to an unused bag, not making eye contact with anyone. She was nervous, having never taken a group class before and having no clue how to box. As she slipped on the gloves she had procured the day before, she hoped they were the right ones. She didn’t need to look like an amateur.
Keeping her head down, Tristana pushed on the bag, testing the weight. It was a lot heavier than the instructional videos made it look. The guys she had watched on those videos had been able to move the bag easily with a single jab.
Dismayed that she was about to completely embarrass herself, she threw her whole body into a punch, just like she had learned via those instructional videos, and barely made the dumb bag move. Damn her skinny arms and light frame.
She finally chanced a look around, seeing a woman close to her whose muscles bulged as she took several quick jabs at the bag before following it through with a knee jab that knocked the bag a good foot away from her. Tristana envied the woman her strength.
Taking a deep breath, she then followed the woman’s example. Right, left, right, left, she barely moved the bag before jabbing it with her knee. She was missing something. She was sure of it. How could these people make it look so easy while she fumbled? Maybe she should lift weights for a few weeks before trying again? She needed some upper body strength.
“You’re not using your whole body,” a voice seemed to accuse from behind her.
Tristana froze before turning around with her eyes narrowed. “Are you following me?”
Peter narrowed his eyes right back. “I should be asking you that. I’ve been here all morning. This is my class.”
“Your class?” Tristana scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What? Now we’re laying claim to things? My trail; your class?”
Peter shrugged. “You said it, not me.” Then he grinned and looked over the room, instructing in a booming voice, “Uppercuts, one, two; followed by front kick, back kick.”
Several men grunted acknowledgments, whereas the woman she had been watching jumped in place a few times before taking a defense position then throwing two jabs upward, following the instructions.
Tristana looked back at him, defeat heavy on her shoulders. “You teach? Here? I thought you said you work for your family.”
This was the second time he had successfully gotten one over on her. Just a few weeks ago, he had taken over her website. Well, it was technically Ms. Diana’s website, but she had been the one to create it and keep it up to date. She shouldn’t have felt so burned by that—it was one less thing for her to worry about—but it had still hurt when Ms. Diana had informed her that she had handed the reins to Peter. Since then, they had both been trying to stay out of each other’s way. Him because of the site, and her because of the bathroom lockout. It was like they were both waiting for the other to retaliate.
“I’m just subbing. I’ve been coming here for the past month.” Peter crossed his arms. “I took Muay Thai from the time I was eleven. When the instructor mentioned being out of town this week, I thought it seemed like a great way to pay off those lessons.”
Looking down, Tristana grumbled, “I didn’t know.” She really wished she hadn’t just signed up and paid in full for the next six months.
Taking pity on her, Peter muttered, “Follow me.” He started to walk away from the bags situated at one half of the room, moving to the empty, matted area. There, he spun around and informed her, “Before you start the bags, you need to learn the moves. Have you taken a kickboxing class before?”
Tristana shook her head, feeling more awkward now that she seemed to have been singled out. No one seemed to be paying attention to her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t.
“You walked into the advanced class. At nine a.m. is the beginner class. The more serious gym enthusiasts come in earlier.”
Tristana glared at him, thinking he was picking on her.
He ignored her, telling her to remove her gloves. Then he talked her through the different moves and demonstrated while still throwing out instructions for his class. A few times, people glared at her, probably angry she had taken their instructor’s attention away from them.
Tristana was executing a side kick when Peter grabbed her ankle, holding it higher where he had told her he wanted it to be. She was almost bent in half, putting her in an awkward position. When she started to fall, she bounced on her other foot, grounding herself, and Peter stepped in to grip her waist.
Chills broke out across her body, and not the bad, scary kind. He was right up against her back, his hips pressed against her backside to hold her steady, still holding her leg high. It made her breathing escalate.
As if realizing her reaction to him, Peter dropped her leg and stepped back, telling her to try again.
Thirty minutes later, when she was sweaty and her muscles felt loose, Peter called an end to the class, never apologizing for basically neglecting them while helping Tristana. She noted that and strangely respected him for it.
As she was bending over to pick up her gloves, a man swooped down and got to them first, handing them to her as she straightened back up. “First time?” he asked.
“I dare you to flirt with him,” was whispered into her ear before Peter said louder, “Nine a.m., Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. You want to learn, then come then.” With that, he walked away, making a note on the clipboard he was holding, missing the way Tristana stared after him, looking dazed and confused.
“So, first time?” the man in front of her repeated.
She shook her head, thoughts rushing toward her in whispers as she studied the man in front of her. He was definitely one of those guys who seemed to live at the gym. Wearing loose gym shorts and a shirt with no sleeves, the muscles in his arms and calves caught her attention. They were huge. He was fairly attractive. Late-twenties, short hair, brown eyes, his best feature was his chiseled, strong jaw. He wasn’t anyone to swoon over, but since Peter had challenged her, she was going to act like he was.
She grinned at the man as she grabbed a complimentary towel and wiped at the back of her neck. “Yep, just popped my cherry.”
She heard a choked sound come from Peter before he coughed to disguise it.
The man’s grin widened.
~~~~~
Peter didn’t know how to feel about what he had just dared Tristana to do. An unhealthy, irrational amount of jealousy tore through him, yet he needed to see how she would respond.
Tristana had been a cat in her past life, he could swear it. While her claws were out whenever he was around, she turned into a purring kitten around Frank, the man she was now flirting with. He watched as she sashayed her hips, touched his large arms, smiled up at him, and batted her lashes. She reduced the man to an immature teenager who had to show off to impress.
After asking for her number, she pulled an old-school move by writing it down on his hand, leaning back against his sweaty chest as she took her time. When she was done, she tossed the pen where she had found it on the sign-in form, and then gave him a little finger wave as he walked backward out the door with a stupid grin.
When he was out of sight, Peter looked up from his clipboard that he had been pretending to write on. “You didn’t really give him your number, did you?”
Tristana turned to face him. “No. I didn’t even give him my real name.”
Peter cocked a brow questioningly. He had expected her to snap at him. Instead, her voice was gentle, soft. Nothing like the tone she usually used on him.
“What?” Tristana asked.
Peter looked down, finding interest in kicking a mat back into place. “He’s gonna find out. Unless you plan on dropping the gym now.” He glanced up to see Tristana make a mock oops face.
Peter shook his head, turning his focus back to the clipboard in a real attempt to take inventory.
He looked up a few minutes later to find Tristana still standing there. Now she had her arms crossed and was watching him intently.
It was his turn to ask, “What?”
“Eye for an eye.”
It took Peter a minute a figure out what she meant. “Oh no. No, no, no. You play dirty.”
Tristana gave him the most genuine smile he had ever seen on her. “Oh, come on. This one is fun, I promise.” She stuck out her bottom lip and batted her lashes dramatically.
The words, the motions, it shook Peter to his core. Someone had done and said the same things to him once.
“Peter?” Tristana called to him worriedly, taking a step toward him and resting her hand on his arm.
Peter focused back on the present and gave her a reassuring smile. “Déjà vu.”
She continued to look at him in concern.
Peter forced out an uncomfortable laugh. “So, what’s the dare this time?”
Tristana grinned wickedly. “You ever see those guys do the treadmill dances?”
Peter laughed freely now, shaking off the heaviness that had just overcome him. “I can’t do that.”
“Have you ever tried?” she challenged.
He really needed to think up harder, more embarrassing dares for her.
Knowing he couldn’t back out, Peter blew out an exaggerated breath that sounded like he was blowing raspberries as he marched toward the door, dropping his clipboard on the sign-in table on the way out.
“Yay!” Tristana cheered as she followed him out.
They walked down the hall and into the open gym that held cardio equipment to the right, home gym benches in the middle, and free weights and weight benches to the left in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors. Obviously, Peter beelined right, wanting to get this over with. Thankfully, the gym wasn’t overly crowded.
Peter jumped onto a free treadmill without missing a beat and turned it onto a steady, slow setting. Turning around, he found Tristana right behind him, arms braced on either side of the handrails like she was going to barricade him in.
“Watch this,” he told her as he walked backward with ease. Gripping the bottom of his shirt, he lifted it off while rolling his hips to an imaginary beat.
Tristana giggled at his playfulness, having never seen this side of him before.
Peter whipped his shirt into her face. “How long do I have to do this?”
Laughing, Tristana pulled the shirt off her face then tilted her head from side to side, considering. “One minute should suffice.”
Turning around and breaking out into the robot, so not as sexy as taking his shirt off had been, he said, “Every second is gonna feel like torture.”
Tristana giggled, wishing she had her phone so she could make a viral video.
She had to admit, Peter had some moves. Of course, the treadmill was going really slow, and he was hopping onto the side steps a lot. However, the way he moved those hips … Yeah, she liked it. And so did a lot of other people.
As soon as Peter hopped down, applause broke out across the room. People had stopped what they were doing to watch his performance, even the dedicated weight lifters on the far end of the room had put their dumbbells and plates down to give him their full attention.
Both Peter and Tristana flushed in embarrassment. Tristana giggled, trying to cover it up with her hand. Peter just barked out a laugh and shook his head before giving in and taking a bow.
“Come here.” He pulled her toward him, giving her a nuggie.
Tristana laughed, trying to squirm away from him. “Stop!” she squealed through her laughter.
Chuckling, Peter released her then made a beeline for the exit, too embarrassed to stick around.
Not knowing if she should follow him, Tristana watched him leave, thinking he probably had to get back to work. She needed to finish her workout anyway. The cardio had been great, but not long enough.
Noticing she wasn’t following, Peter turned around and walked back to her, not making eye contact with anyone else. “You good here?”
She nodded. “I’m going to run for two miles then lift for a bit.” She gestured with her head toward the home gym machines.
“You know how to use those?”
She nodded again. “Yeah.”
Peter nodded, too, finally glancing around the room as he said, “Seriously, though, if you wanna learn how to kickbox, I can show you at home.”
Tristana lifted her eyes from his chest, beaming at him. “I’d like that.”
Peter looked back at her and grinned, relieved that she had agreed and that all her snark seemed to have been shoved away for the time being. This was a much nicer Tristana than the one he had been introduced to. Maybe their little rivalry would end now.