Page 1 of Feels Like Home

Chapter One

“Excuse me?”

The towels Jace Galano had just pulled from the dryer and neatly folded nearly tumbled from his hands. The single wireless earbud he was wearing hit his shoulder, bounced, and tumbled under the rack of hand weights.

“Sorry to startle you. I just wanted one of those towels.”

The floor-to-ceiling mirror that wrapped around the room reflected a god behind him. Jace’s lips parted as he stared unblinkingly into eyes the color of whiskey. On top of the stranger’s head was the messiest chestnut-colored man-bun Jace had ever seen, loose strands clinging to the guy’s sweaty neck and face.

Jace tried to talk, but no words came out, just a strange noise between a gasp and a hiccup. His fingers clutched the towels harder as he swallowed repeatedly, wondering if his brain would come back online anytime soon.

“Towel?” A thick, shapely eyebrow rose upward as a smile tugged at the side of the god’s perfect lips.

“Towel! Yes!” Heat burst across Jace’s face at his loud reply. He’d shouted those two words at the guy like an idiot who had no control over the volume of his voice.

A few people near them looked their way, curious expressions on their faces. Jace saw Owen was strutting toward him from across the gym with a cocky walk. His supervisor didn’t look happy.

What else is new?

The god reached out and plucked a towel off the stack Jace was still clutching for dear life, drawing the fabric down his Adonis face and over his neck. Jace’s eyes greedily followed every move. He was barely breathing. He’d gone from rapid blinking to his eyelids frozen in place.

“Jace,” Owen said when he finally reached them. “What the hell? Why were you shouting at Mr. Grant?”

“Ian,” Mr. Grant corrected. “There’s no problem. I just startled poor Jace.”

The god had said his name. He’d acknowledged Jace and was defending him. Looking up into Ian’s eyes, Jace noticed how freaking tall the man was. Six-three or six-four? Jace’s skills at guessing someone’s height or age were nonexistent.

All he knew was that he was five-seven and the top of his head only reached Ian’s shoulders. The guy’s pecs were right in Jace’s view, although they were covered by a sleeveless Under Armour shirt. The fabric clung to his sweaty body, revealing a six-pack Jace was dying to touch.

Ian’s manly smell was short-circuiting Jace’s brain. Taking a step back, Jace lowered to his knees, keeping the towels tucked to his chest. He reached under the rack, feeling around for his earbud.

Owen’s eyes were on Jace. He could feel them burning into his back as his fingers finally curled around the earbud and pulled it free.

“He’s new here,” Owen explained to Ian. “Jace isn’t a people person. He was hired to clean the locker rooms and do other stuff that doesn’t require him to interact with our members.”

Owen spoke as if Jace wasn’t right there, like he was a robot with no feelings, his only programming to clean and wash sweaty towels. His people skills might have been lacking, but that didn’t mean his supervisor had to talk about him that way.

Ian rested the towel around his neck, gripping each end like the towel would somehow fall if he didn’t hold it in place.

“You’re not supposed to talk to the members,” Owen said to Jace like the jerk was chastising a small kid for playing ball in the house.

Jace wanted to take the towel from around Ian’s neck and wrap it around Owen’s throat. Ever since Jace had been hired, Owen had been nothing but condescending toward him.

Jace wasn’t an idiot. He just had a hard time talking to people. Owen was too thickheaded to distinguish between the two. The guy spent his days checking himself out in the mirrors and sucking in his gut, which had seen one too many treats from Sweet Spot. Owen never used the equipment in the gym. He just peacocked around the female members.

“Chill,” Ian said to Owen. “Jace hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Yeah, sure.” Owen’s smile said he really didn’t care and had only said something to make it look like he was doing his job. “I gotta get back to gym stuff. The place isn’t going to run itself.” He laughed as if he found himself funny.

Owen didn’t even own Jungle Fitness, not to mention he was the least funny person on the planet.

Crisis averted, Jace walked to the locker rooms and placed the towels on a rack next to the row of showers. When his phone buzzed, he pulled it from his pocket and saw it was his mom. He’d asked her a million times not to call him at work. Luckily, Owen wasn’t around or he would get on Jace’s ass about personal calls during work hours.

Because Owen stayed off his phone. Right. His phone resided against his ear so often it should have become an appendage on the side of his head.

“You shouldn’t call me at work,” he whispered as if Owen would be able to hear him.

“I’m sorry,” his mom said.

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