Too Close to Resist. Nicole Helm
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have done them in the past, yes.”
“Do you have the cute little bike shorts?”
He gave her a disapproving look. “No, I do not.”
“Bummer.” She grinned when he shook his head, his knuckles going white as he pulled into the lot of the gym. “You’re so easy, Kyle.”
“Great. Here.” He handed her a little piece of paper. “This is a guest pass.”
“You sure do think of everything, don’t you?” she muttered. Even if she belonged to a gym and got guest passes, she was pretty sure she’d lose them before she ever had a chance to use them. Not Kyle, of course.
Grace followed Kyle into the Bluff City Fitness Center, impressed by the big, bright lobby. She usually worked out at the Carvelle High School weight room or track thanks to Dad’s being the baseball coach. This place was twice as clean and smelled ten times better. No doubt the equipment would be superior, as well.
What had been a rash decision to avoid being alone wasn’t turning out half-bad. Maybe if she worked out hard enough, she’d manage a dreamless sleep tonight. Kyle gave her the basic layout of the place before disappearing into the men’s locker room.
Grace spent the next hour quite happily busting her butt on the weight machines. If after that she wandered over to the big windows overlooking the pool, it was only because the free weights were right there and she needed to check out if they were the brand she liked. If her eyes happened to scan the pool below and pick out Kyle’s long, impressive arms slicing through the water, well, who the hell could blame her? Watching him do stuff might be a little on the creepy side, but jeez, it was better than the alternative. Thinking about Barry.
Instinctively, Grace scanned the people around the pool. Her blood turned to ice at the sight of a large man with black hair standing off to the side. Her stomach pitched, fear paralyzing her breath.
And then a little girl ran across the wet concrete with open arms and the man smiled, hoisting her up.
Not Barry.
Grace stumbled back into someone running the track around the weight machines. She mumbled an apology. Not Barry. Not Barry. Stupid, stupid mistake.
She closed her eyes, sucked in a breath. Well, seeing Barry where he wasn’t hadn’t happened since the trial. Grace opened her eyes, squinted at her shoes. She let out her breath, took another, easier this time.
Regression. Plain and simple. Unacceptable.
Grace took to the track and began to run. Hard. Eventually she would exhaust herself enough so the panic and fear and worry that this feeling would always be a part of her life would disappear.
Or at least hide away for a while.
Her lungs burned, her already tired muscles screamed, but Grace kept running. She wasn’t going to stop until the pain drowned out everything.
* * *
KYLE CRESTED THE STAIRS, hoping Grace would want to stick around at least another thirty minutes so he could get some spinning in. He was toying with the idea of doing a Half Ironman in October, and he’d need to pick up the pace of his training.
Which wouldn’t be all that hard with Grace underfoot. Exercise was far more appealing than enduring any more alone time with her. Somehow, it always ended up with him flustered, revealing too much. And worse was when she showed a hint of vulnerability. He didn’t like what it brought out in him, this strange need to help and commiserate and smile. Worst of all, smile.
Kyle didn’t commiserate and he didn’t let people into the dark places of his mind, so it was best to avoid Grace as much as possible.
He scanned the machines, looking for Grace’s rainbow-streaked ponytail and that ridiculously yellow, ridiculously tight exercise shirt she’d been wearing. He didn’t see her on any of the machines, but he caught a bullet of yellow out of the corner of his eye.
She was running the track. Hard. His stomach did a sickening slow roll when he saw her expression. When he recognized it as panic and fear.
He should know. He saw that expression enough in the mirror. Not knowing what he was going to say, Kyle still found himself taking to the track and running until he caught up with her.
When he fell into step next to her, she actually flinched, stumbling over her feet a little. He reached out to steady her, but she jerked away.
“What are you doing?” she huffed out, not bothering to slow down once she’d regained her footing. Her face was red, her words barely audible through the gusts of breath she was sucking in and letting out.
“Take a break, Grace.” Good Lord, how long had she been going at this pace? The breakneck speed was enough to have even a seasoned runner like him exert a lot of effort.
“Nope.” But she began to slow. It took a while, another two laps, and then she was down to a normal pace. “What are you doing?” she repeated, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down her temples, and her chest heaved with the effort to breathe.
“Hoping to keep you from having a heart attack.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, a shot of temper so unlike her.
She looked so close to breaking down he was afraid sympathy might lead to the possibility of tears, and he was not at all comfortable with that. So he went for a different reaction instead. “Don’t be obnoxious.”
She stopped dead in her tracks so quickly he almost toppled over trying to stop with her.
The outrage on her face was short-lived, morphing into eyes filling with tears and a quivering lip.
Crap. Wrong tactic.
“I’m not done yet.” She put her hands on her hips and took a deep hitching breath. “I’m not done yet.”
He took a step away from her. Just leave her alone, his mind instructed. “All right.” But his feet didn’t listen to his mind, because he didn’t take any more steps away.
“I just need...” Her voice hitched, but she shook her head as if to shake it off. “I just need...”
Kyle couldn’t stand it any longer. Knowing all too well what it was like to fight those gnawing, oppressive feelings. The way they dug into every wound, making them deeper, more painful. It was too much to bear seeing those feelings on Grace. Gently, he took her arm and led her toward the stairs. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
He expected her to fight him, but she didn’t. Perhaps she was too busy fighting the tears shimmering in her eyes.
He stopped in front of the locker room and she nodded in silent understanding. Forgetting his normal after-workout routine, he grabbed his bag out of the locker. When he returned to Grace, she was slumped against the wall, her eyelashes suspiciously wet.
He took her arm again, not sure why. Crying didn’t make her incapable of moving on her own, but he didn’t know what to say, so a friendly touch seemed the way to go.
Grace climbed into the car, her body tensed from head to toe. He slid into the driver’s seat, and though the rational part of his mind told him not to look, he couldn’t help himself. When it came to Grace, the other part of his brain too often took over.
She was curled up in her seat, forehead pressed to her knees. He opened his mouth to tell her to buckle her seat belt, but clamped it shut. He’d just drive with extra caution.
“I’m not going to cry.” Her voice was muffled by her knees.
“Praise every available deity.”
She laughed. “I like it when you’re funny. It’s much better than pretentious-asshole Kyle.” She turned her face so her temple rested on her knees and she looked at him, just the hint of a smile on her lips.
He looked at the windshield. “I wasn’t really trying to be funny.”