Page 20 of Ashley & the A-Listers

Ashley glanced over her shoulder, irritation prickling again. Dylan was sitting on a padded bench that lined the wall, a thumb tucked between the pages of a paperback.

“Uh, no?” she said in that tone that definitely sounded more likewhat the fuck are you talking aboutthan anything civil like she’d promised.

“Why not? Wouldn’t it hurt more?” he asked.

Cameron tried to demonstrate without even being asked, and she watched him wobble as he tried to hit heel first, toes curled back.

They shared a grin, and Ashley pointed at his extended knee, the heel that didn’t quite reach the bag. “The heel connects to the hamstring, which is tighter. With the ball of the foot, you’rereaching. Gives you extra power, extra extension.”

Cameron flexed his foot and kicked the bag gently, able to reach further with the ball of his foot instead.

Dylan lifted his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Alright, alright, I digress.”

Satisfaction pinged around her chest. Fuck, it felt good to be right.

As he lowered the book, Ashley wasn’t able to catch the name.

Not that she cared.

Dammit.

Had he been watching the whole time? Ashley tried to remember how many times she’d stopped her eyes from lingering on Cameron, or how many times she’d leaned into his scent, or halted just before touching him somewhere.

As Cameron reset his stance, she glanced once more at Dylan, and he met her gaze, all knowing and content with himself.

She felt like a teenager again, with a crush that Dylan was certainly going to tease her about until the crush faded from the force of embarrassment.

A growl slipped out, and she cut it off at the alarmed glance from Cameron. It had been low enough that Dylan hadn’t likely heard.

“Sorry,” she offered to Cam. “Don’t mind me.”

“Don’t worry, he pisses me off, too,” he whispered, and Ashley couldn’t help the way a laugh almost bubbled up.

She covered her mouth and shook her head, but as she met Cam’s stare, she saw the same mirth reflected back.

As they worked through a few more stances, Cam was further along than she thought he’d be, and she would have to adjust the training schedule once he left.

Dylan was… present. She tried to ignore him, but she couldn’t get her mind off him. Every so often she would catch a whiff of him, fresh-cut grass and childhood memories that she tried to bury so, so fucking deep.

After ten years, he was justsittingthere and watching her.

All the questions she’d had all these years kept distracting her.

Why’d you leave? Where did you go? What did I do wrong?

Dylan’s attention was heavy on her form as she corrected Cameron and showed him a proper stance. Part of her wanted to overlook him, to pretend he didn’t exist. And part of her wanted to show him just how good she was at her job. That she’d become her own person in his absence, that she’d built a whole life without him, despite the fact that at one point she couldn’t have imagined such a thing.

Her chest hurt, and she battled with anger and pride and sadness, avoiding his eyes the rest of the session.

Cameron was a good distraction from her thoughts, she had to admit. He cracked the right jokes, made her laugh, thoughshe tried not to give in, tried to remain stern so he’d take her seriously.

But it seemed Cameron had no issue with that. His brow furrowed in concentration whenever she spoke, focused squint intent and warm as he absorbed everything she said. Even when she had to correct him, he only nodded and tried again. There was no arguing, no posturing, no attempting to save face if he slipped up.

It only took one session for her to build a solid respect for him, if only for the respect he held for the craft.

Some men came into the gym and refused to listen to her, a woman. It didn’t matter to them that she was an alpha.

The bar might have been on the floor, but she was relieved when Cameron proved himself to be different than that.

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