Page 26 of Traitor

An eternity later, he took a swig from his water bottle and grinned. “Well, what’d you think?”

What’d I think?

That my arms were made of spaghetti.

I sat down on an empty bench and rested my forearms on my thighs. “Um,” I huffed. “That was a good beginner work-out. Thanks.”

He prodded my shoe with the tip of his. “Beginner work-out? I thought you were going to flatline on me several times.”

I shook my head, looking like a wet dog as the sweat flew in different directions. “Did not. I was great.”

Jimmy held out his hand to me and I slipped mine into it without a second thought. “Oh. I was going to give you a high-five,” he explained and I immediately let go.

“Right. Sorry, I thought you were helping me up off of this bench. I guess I can spend the night down here. Maybe the morning crew will find me.” It was a lie, but it was better than confessing that I thought he was trying to hold my hand.

This time his face pinkened as he reached for me again. “Jesus, sorry. Here.” He easily lifted me and my chest bumped against his stomach. Like something out of a movie, our eyes locked and we instinctively moved closer together.

Unlike with Little Ricky, I was anticipating this kiss.

Jimmy froze at the last second and straightened up. “I’ve uh—I’ve gotta hit the shower. If you’ve got time to wait around, I can walk you out. It’s pretty late.”

I nodded and all but ran for the women’s locker room. I walked over to the full-body mirror and checked myself over. My nose was clear and my makeup was still relatively in place. I sniffed my armpits and checked my breath before deciding that I smelled fine.

I hadn’t thought of my mother or Mike once during the work-out. It was the first time since January that someone had managed to distract me from the crushing disappointment that had become my life.

Without Jimmy nearby, my mind entered a freefall back into the abyss and I hated that Mike’s poison still flowed through my veins.

In the case of a broken-heart, was a transfusion considered an effective treatment?

I stripped out of my sweaty tank and retrieved the waistband holster from my gym bag. It was nothing more than military grade black elastic, but with the hot pink ribbon corseted up the back, I actually felt sexy while wearing it. I slid the mag back into my Glock before holstering it with shaky hands. That arm work-out was going to be the death of me. The baggy green t-shirt I slipped over my head completely hid the fact that I was carrying.

With a final glance in the mirror, I headed out of the locker room to where Jimmy was casually leaning up against the wall. His hair was damp, but still perfectly in place, and I found myself wondering if the water just beaded off of it.

“You ready?” He asked.

I nodded. “Sure. Thanks for the escort.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something before seemingly changing his mind. Instead, he began walking toward the exit. I followed after, with the smell of his cologne-scented body wash creating a trail of sorts.

Jimmy stopped at the front desk and retrieved a cherry red helmet. “I’ve got a bike,” he noted as we stepped outside.

Of course he did.

“So, you’re a biker.”

He gave me a confused smile. “Was that a question or a statement?”

I sighed. “I’ve just run into a lot of bikers lately. It’s like I can’t walk outside without finding one.”

“You got something against motorcycles?”

I slung my gym bag across my back. “No—just the gangs you all belong to.”

Jimmy chuckled as if I’d said something incredibly witty. “Gang?Lauren, I just ride a motorcycle. It’s nothing more than a mode of transportation.”

I was turning into one of those crazy people on the street, certain that the government was hiding listening devices inside supermarket produce.

I massaged the back of my neck. “I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted and—”

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