Page 20 of Simon Says

Well, this was uncomfortable.

Not that she’d let a little discomfort slow her down.

Before Dakota could take more than a few steps forward, a welterweight too old to still compete stopped her. “The gym’s closed today.”

Dakota’s brow went up as she peered at the wiry little man. He sat at a barely noticeable corner desk, a newspaper opened over his lap, his feet propped up. He wore a white T-shirt, baggy athletic pants, and wrestling shoes. Other than some artistic tattoos on his forearms, the most noticeable thing about him was a very close-cropped Mohawk and a little goat beard.

The very sight of him made Dakota smile.

“That’s odd,” she said, and still gained no attention from the man. “There are so many people here, it looks open to me.”

“There are men here, not just people. They’re members.” He turned a page of the paper. “We’re closed to the public. You’re the public. So we’re closed.”

Suspicions bloomed. “Did Sublime put you up to this?”

“Closed is closed. Dean’s rules. Sublime ain’t got nothing to do with it.” But he glanced at her over the edge of the newspaper. His gaze dipped to her feet, crawled up to her face, then went back to his paper. “But I reckon Sublime wouldn’t want to send ya off no ways.”

“Really?”

“Known as a ladies’ man, that Sublime.” His gaze peeked over the paper again. “You’re a lady, ain’t ya?”

“Last time I checked.”

“There ya go.” And he went back to reading.

One thing he’d said caught her attention. “Dean Conor owns this gym?”

“Yup.”

She knew the gym was ultra popular with fighters, and that Dean was always on hand. But as an owner rather than a spokesman? Surprise, surprise.

“I didn’t realize.”

“No reason you should, you being the public and all.”

Well, shoot. None of that was very productive. “So let me see if I understand this. You’re telling me that I need a membership to get in today?”

“Everyone needs a membership to get in today. Not just you.” He rattled the paper. “Don’t be conceited.”

“Conceited?”

He huffed. “Thinking it’s all about you. Doesn’t matter to me who you are or who you’re here to see. You need a membership, just like everyone else.”

“Right. Got it.” And people called her strange! “How do I get a membership?”

In a well-rehearsed spiel, he said, “You pay eighty bucks. That’ll cover the month. Come as often as you like. Any equipment you see, you can use. First come, first serve. You need your own gear. We ain’t got no ladies’ shower room, though. Not that the men’ll kick ya out, but you might not like it in there.” He turned another page. “It smells.”

Dakota stiffened her spine. “I have no intention of using the men’s shower.”

“That’s a good thing, I reckon.”

“I’m Dakota, by the way.”

“Name’s Haggerty. I play referee when needed, bust heads when it’s called for.” He lowered the paper and even went so far as to drop his feet to the floor. “And I collect memberships.”

“Lovely.” Well, he’d certainly brought that one full circle! Dakota loosened her satchel from her shoulder. “Do you take checks?”

“Nope. But I’ll take a credit card. That’ll get you a temporary ID and use of the place.”

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