Chapter Two
Lark Breaks a Sweat
My eyes scan the wall of the gym, looking toward the clock. Seeing it's already after seven, I let out a frustrated breath. After spending a sleepless night, I finally crawled out of bed a little before five and grabbed a quick shower, knowing I needed to do something to calm my overactive mind. I decided to call my brothers and have them meet me at the gym, hoping a workout may help. So far, it hasn’t worked.
Raising the elevation on the treadmill, I up the speed again and try to clear my mind of my worries. It doesn’t work. Nothing fucking works. I’ve been at the gym for the last two hours, and my mind is still focused on Crystal and the baby. What ifs are making me lose my mind, driving me fucking insane.
What if the baby is mine? What will I do? Am I ready to have a kid? Hell no. Still, I will be there for him or her if I’m the father. I have to wonder, though; will I be a good dad, or will I be a shitty one like my father was? I’m nothing like him in any way.
If this baby is mine, I will do my best to be a better father than I had. No child deserves what I went through. The real problem is the fact that the child will have a mother that should never be near a child.
After the phone call, I did a little research on the woman claiming to be carrying my child. Talking to a few of my regular customers and asking questions, but not giving a reason for them, I found out some information on the woman that is making my life a living hell. Her full name is Crystal Nelson, and she grew up in the area. That was all I needed to run a background check on her. I made a call to one of my Army buddies, a technical guru, and had all of her information within the hour.
Crystal is twenty-six, a receptionist at a local insurance agency, and has been arrested six times—twice for driving under the influence, three times for public drunkenness, and once for assault. She has spent a few nights in jail, just long enough to dry her out, but her rich daddy made sure she didn’t do any real time. That is, until he got smart and cut ties with her. If he would have let her pay for her behavior, she may not be so freaking useless now.
She has spent most of her life going from man to man since she was barely old enough to even know what sex was. She’s been married three times, none lasting more than a year, aside from being engaged to two other men and living with more guys than I can count. In fact, she has barely lived on her own, but keeps bouncing from one man’s bed to another. Nearly every relationship has ended badly, most of them with a call to the police. Either she has claimed they had beat her, or the guys needed the cops to get her out of their home.
“If you don’t take it easy, your old ass is gonna have a heart attack,” Trip says, drawing my attention away from my thoughts as he steps onto the treadmill to my right.
“Fuck you,” I mumble, lifting my middle finger his way. “I’m not that much older than you, asshole.”
Trip is nearly five years younger than me and seven younger than Ripley, and he never lets either of us forget it. The years don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. We have all lived pretty much the same life, coming from fucked up homes and spending most of our adult lives fighting on foreign soil.
“I’m gonna be the one that has a heart attack if I don’t find some more time to work out,” Ripley says from my left. “Next thing you know, I’m gonna be a forty-year-old sporting a damn beer gut.”
Ripley is the only one of us that has kept up his military workout since we got out. I doubt a day goes by that he doesn’t spend at least an hour working out. He even converted his basement into a gym, one that’s almost as equipped as the one we are now paying to use. With a little more time, he’ll have it just as good as this one, and we can all just work out there. I look at him, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I just shake my head and up the speed on the treadmill once again.
Just as I am reaching six miles an hour, my eyes latch onto a dark-haired beauty standing near the entrance to the locker room. She is talking to one of the trainers with a beautiful smile on her face. He is flirting, and she seems to be enjoying it. I take a minute just to take her in and find my cock standing at attention as I do.
Her chestnut colored hair is pulled back into a ponytail, but I can tell that it hangs nearly to her ass when it's down. She’s small, damn near tiny. She couldn’t be more than an inch or two over five feet, if that. She has generous curves, letting me know she doesn’t live on salad and bottled water. Her tits are definitely more than a handful, and her ass… My God, that ass is fucking amazing. She even has a bit of a belly on her, but something about it draws my attention in a way that a skinny chick never could.
Her face is classically beautiful, reminding me of a painting I saw while stationed in France. The girl I was dating at the time dragged me to some art gallery to see a famous painting. At the time, I wasn’t much more than a kid, freshly out of basic training. I would have done anything to get in the chick’s pants, including go to a fucking art gallery.
While there, I saw Johannes Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring. As much as the rest of the paintings had bored me, that one grabbed my attention and kept it. I thought the girl was the most stunning woman to ever walk the earth; she was the picture of pure feminine beauty. Now, I realize I was wrong. That famous girl pales in comparison to the woman standing on the other side of the gym.
“Do you know who she is?” I ask Trip as I slow down the treadmill, knowing he comes here to work out more than either Ripley or me.
He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the woman in question. “Nope. I’ve never seen her before. If I did, there’s no way I would forget.”
Just seeing her, I know that I have to talk to her. Talking isn’t on the top of the list; having her in my bed would be number one, but I gotta start somewhere. After that phone call yesterday, I really shouldn’t even be thinking about any woman. I should be more worried about whether I’m going to be a father or not, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off of her.
“If you’re not gonna go talk to her, I am,” Ripley says, reaching up to lower the speed on his treadmill. “She’s too fucking hot to let her get away.”
“No,” I growl out, not even hesitating to cut off the treadmill and step off. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
I’ve shared women with both of my friends. More than once, we’ve all been with the same woman. Sometimes, we had them at the same time. A few drunken nights, all three of us have given a woman the night of her life. None of those women were anything like the beauty in front of me, not even close. Even without talking to her, I know I will never let either of my brothers near her.
“Do you need any help, man?” Trip asks as I walk away. “I could go warm her up if you need me to.”
I don’t even bother turning around as I answer. “I’ve got this.”
Walking the short distance across the room, I step between her and the man, not saying a word. The trainer looks at me, and I cock my brow. He’s young and looks to be fresh out of school. Way too fucking green for someone as spectacular as the woman he is trying to land.
“You need to go,” I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest.
He looks from me to the woman he wants and back again to me. He attempts to stare me down, but I smile in response. It only takes a minute for him to realize I’m not going to let him get near her, so he simply turns around and walks away.
“Hey, why did you do that? I was talking to him,” the woman says, drawing my attention to her. “That was rude.”
I smile, not bothering to reply. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”
Up close, she is even more spectacular. Her skin has a golden tint to it, showing off what I can only assume is a hint to a drop or two of Italian blood in her veins. She has a few freckles sprinkled over her high cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. Her nose is dainty, slightly upturned at the end, while her deep brown eyes are wide, turning up a bit at the edge. Her mouth is fucking amazing, full and plump, with the perfect cupid’s bow. The only imperfection, if you can call it that, is a slight cleft in her chin. All in all, she is stunning.
She chews nervously on her bottom lip before responding. “N-no, I don’t imagine that you have. I never use the weights.”
I smile, realizing she had to be watching me, too. When we first got here, the boys and I hit the weights, but that’s been awhile. I’ve been on the treadmill for closing in on half an hour. Before that, I hit the elliptical.
“I don’t really work out,” she says, not giving me a chance to respond. “I just come for yoga and then head out. I’m only here for about an hour a few times a week.”
She’s rambling and that makes me smile. I love knowing she is nervous because that means she is attracted to me. If I play this right, she will be in my bed tonight. If she is even half as good as I suspect she will be, I doubt one night will do it. She may be in my bed for a long damn time, longer than anyone else has ever been.
“So, yoga gives you a body like that,” I say, looking her up and down. “Women should give up all that other shit and follow your lead.”
“I doubt most men would agree with you.” She pulls on the bottom of her white tank, attempting to cover herself, but in the process, gives me a show of her luscious cleavage.
Noticing the bounty in front of me, my eyes cannot stop themselves from locking onto her tits. I can just picture what they will look like, her perfect globes on full display, the feel of them in my hands, and the taste of them in my mouth. As I continue to stare, I can even imagine the way her nipples will harden with my touch.
I realize that I have been staring just a little too long and instead concentrate on her face. I don’t want to scare her off before I get a chance to see if what I imagined is true.
She notices my inspection, and a blush spreads across her face. The bright red color causes my half-hard dick to go rock solid. There is just something about her that draws me in, and her nervousness only adds to her appeal. Hell, maybe her shyness is what I like the best.
Taking a step forward, I lean my face down, stopping only an inch from hers. “Then, most men are wrong.”
“Maybe,” she whispers shyly, looking down at the floor.
Most of the women in my past have been bold. In fact, the majority of them had come after me hard. I’ve never really had to work for it, not since I got old enough to know better. I've never seen the point in working for something that was always given to me so easily. I have a feeling this woman will be more than worth the trouble of doing a little work.
“If you’re done, we could grab a cup of coffee,” I say, nearly laughing at myself. “Maybe even get some breakfast.”
That sounded a hell of a lot like a date, and I don’t date, haven’t in years. I do quick hook-ups, nothing more. I can’t even remember the last time I shared more than a beer with a woman. Even that only happened if we ended up at the same bar. Fuck, I haven’t bought a woman a meal in more years than I can remember.
“I…I…I have to get to work,” she stutters, a blush growing brighter with every word. “I have to go now or I’ll be late.”
With that, she runs, literally runs away from me. Her cute little ass bounces as she rushes to the front door. I watch her until she is out of sight, knowing I will see her again and that it will be happening soon. Chasing her will be fun. I’ll make sure to check the yoga schedule before I leave here. With a smile, I turn and walk back to my treadmill.
As I step on it, Trip looks at me. “I told you, you should’ve let me warm her up. That way, she wouldn’t have run from you.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” I reply, shooting him a smile. “That one is mine.”