Page 13 of Stirred Up

He’s standing in front of me but all I can see are his grey tennis shoes since I’m bent in half stretching to my toes. Slowly I raise up, eyes widening as I take him in.

“What,” I point, biting down on a giggle, “thehellare you wearing? Those shorts could be seen from Mars.”

It seems like I was miffed at him for something, but I’ll be damned if I can remember now amidst the hilarity before me. Brady is prancing around the gym in neon green shorts at least one size too small. I was there when he bought them; I even tried to warn him they were nothing but an eyesore he’d never wear, but as always, he was more concerned with the perky salesgirl holding them right up against his crotch explaining they were made for him. At that point, I’d retreated to the opposite side of the store, unable to stomach their interaction. That was five years agoand not only have the shorts been collecting dust in his drawer since then, the “oh so sweet girl” turned out to be a raving stalker that enjoyed slashing tires.

The fact that he’d resort to this public display before doing an actual load of laundry is unbelievable…almost as much as the fact he got someone to screw him on the same day as this fashion statement.Oh yeah, that’s why I’m mad at him!

“Uh huh, you have no idea why I might be wearing these?” He cocks one brow in question.

“Why, whatever do you mean?” I lay on a southern drawl and my best innocent eyes.

“Kathy disappeared this week, no call, won’t answer mine. Doesn’t sound like her, does it?” He’s gauging me intently, waiting for a slip, but I stand firm, nonchalant in my composure.

“I’m sure she’ll be back. Probably just needed a break. Anyway,” I jab a finger in his chest, “you need to get laid in private! If you get us kicked out of the only gym in town, I’ll kill you. You’re welcome, by the way; you may repay me by buying all the ingredients needed for two batches of my cookies.”

“ChocoPeanaCups?” he says excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “You making those for me?”

“No, Percy. That’s how I saved your membership. The locker room? Seriously, Brady?”

“Fucking punk, running to tattle to you. I knew I hated him.”

“He didn’twantto tell me! And so not the point.”

His mouth takes on a sinister snark as he leans in, inches from my face. “Oh, he wanted to tell you, believe me… ‘Brady’s getting in some panties, so please, Addison, finallylet me get in yours,’” he mimics. “Limp dick,” he mutters with a head shake. “Pathetic.”

“Whatever, just keep it in your pants,” I glance over him with a smirk, “or groovy shorts, at the gym. Promise?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he blows me off, so I do the same.

“Run along now,” I shoo him with my hand. “I’ve got a workout to get to.”

To my delight, my favorite treadmill is still empty. I pop in my headphones and start at a steady pace. Blah. CNN’s on the TV in front of me, so I turn to the second best form of entertainment—people watching. The key to good creeping is subtlety. Never let them catch youlooking. I’ve mastered it, which is why Brady has no clue that I’m currently rolling my eyes and fighting back a sudden case of heartburn as I spy on him now shamelessly flirting with a redhead with airbags for breasts. He literallyjustfinished getting laid; the man never quits.

Not surprised, though, Ginger’s totally his type…she appears to be breathing and has huge tits. Despite myself, an intruding thought crosses my mind. I wonder if Dr. Reynolds ishergyno? He’d have a field day with her breast exam.

I glance down to my own set, not bad, big C’s, still high and proud. And real. So real in fact, I wince and slow down my speed as they bounce up to tell me I forgot to grab the good sports bra this morning.

Brady’s now caught my gaze from across the room and is walking toward me. Geez, did I not shoo him away only minutes ago? Miss Thing’s mouth is still moving, probably offering 69 different positions to coerce him to stay, but he ignores her, dead set on his path to me.

Bitch gives me a dirty look,please,if I had a dollar for every one of Brady’s thwarted toys that saw me as a threat, I could open my ownprivategym.

He gently tugs out my earbuds. “Your ass and legs are fine. Wanna work on arms? I’ll spot ya?” he asks, his voice chipper.

“Did you just compliment my ass and legs or insult my arms? I can’t decide. And it looked like you were kinda busy not working out.” I huff all that, never breaking my stride. “Then again, I guess you did already get a workout this morning with a different girl.”

“Yeah, but not with myfavoritegirl, though, so here I am.” He climbs on behind me, keeping pace, very close to my back.

“Brady! There can’t be two people on here. Stop,” I complain, pouting, “before you really do get us kicked out. And back up off me, did you even shower after initiating the new member?” I gag.

“Of course I did! I’m the cleanest son of a bitch you know, despite my current lack off such dishes or underwear. Now admit you’re behind Kathy’s disappearance and I’ll get down,” he whispers, gusts of exerted air on my neck.

Of all the things that transpired already this morning, this is what he’s focused on. More than sure he’ll seekrevenge at some point, perhaps a simple confession will lesson his retaliation later. It’s worth a try, at least. “Promise you won’t make any more appointments for me and I’ll think about it.”

His fingers trail delicately down my back and settle on my hip, eliciting a shudder that I struggle to hide. I’m too on edge to deal with any male contact, even Brady’s.

“Hands off! Just because the redhead got you all worked up, doesn’t mean you get to cop a feel on me!” I chastise a little meaner than necessary, scooting up, away from his grip.

His tone is unaffected by my reprimand. “I promise, for at least a year anyway, to not make any more appointments for you. I only did it because I care about you, Moe. It’s my job to protect you, especially when you won’t do it yourself. It’s what people in my profession do. I guarantee you the first thing a fireman does is replace the smoke detectors in his loved ones’ homes.”

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