Page 2 of Wine & Whiskey
1
Chapter One
Nick glancesat the rear view mirror again. The white SUV weaving between lanes for the last three miles finally turns off. He blows out a deep breath and relaxes his grip on the wheel as the cool ocean breeze ruffles his hair. Maybe this time he can actually keep his appointment.
Even though it’s a risk to drive himself in the Jeep, it feels good to be free instead of stuffed in the back of the limo. It may be too much exposure, but he has to live a little. Fucking sad that driving in the open air is what he’s living for.
Ignoring the constant chirping of his phone, he checks the address one more time before pulling off the highway into an almost deserted parking lot. This can’t be it. His old trainer wouldn’t recommend a dump like this. No signage or windows, just an old warehouse with faded siding and rust stains inching down from the flat roof. A few overgrown bushes line the entrance in a feeble attempt at landscaping. Finding a new gym should not be this difficult.
The interior is a slight improvement. Rows of gleaming black and gray equipment fill the open space. An irritating combination of bleach mingled with chlorine burns his eyes as a lithe instructor holds open a door down the hall, herding in a group of older women with towels wrapped around their bathing suits. A man with wisps of hair as white as his walking shoes trods on a treadmill, while two women with matching green and purple sports bras and shorts run side-by-side.
At the front desk, the receptionist welcomes him to JETs.
“Thanks. I’m Nick DeMarco. I have a ten o’clock with Jason Tyler.”
“He’s not here yet, but I’ll give you the membership paperwork to complete while you wait. Trainers work with their clients in the main workout room, down the hall and to the right. You can store your bag in the locker room next to it.”
Her fingertips linger on his hand a bit longer than polite as she gives him the forms. She’s attractive in an obvious way—heavy makeup, slinky workout clothes tight in all the right places, long fingernails that would leave marks on his back. Without much effort, he could have her naked and screaming his name in less than an hour.
Not today. He isn’t in the mood. If he’s honest with himself, he hasn’t been in the mood for a long time. Work fills his time with enough headaches. He doesn’t need drama from an aggressive woman who’ll end up demanding more than he wants to give.
The upbeat nineties pop song blaring from the ceiling speakers fades as he walks down the hallway adorned with pictures of hard bodies and inspirational sayings. Jessica’s number flashes on his phone. It’s been almost two years. What the fuck could she possibly want after all this time? Probably the same thing she always wants—money or sex. Most likely both. Shaking his head, he sends the call to voice mail.
He pauses at the glass door of the nearly empty workout room. A petite woman stretches on the cork floor, her wavy, dark brown hair trailing down her back. His heartbeat quickens as she lifts her head, her sky blue eyes focused on her fingertips.
Besides her beauty, there’s something else mesmerizing about her—the fluid, almost sensual movements, as she glides from one yoga position to the next, the way she slightly puckers her lips as she exhales, the serenity she exudes. No music blasting or TV blaring or friends talking. A rarity in a world exhausted with sensory overload—to see someone content with quiet and calm. Something he rarely has in his own life, and never with the women he fucks.
Pushing open the door to the locker room, he’s transported to 1978. The brown and gold tile needs new grout and the old school beige lockers are clean but faded. The whooshing and knocking of pipes leading to the attached steam room warn of an impending breakdown. He thumbs through the paperwork the receptionist gave him and laughs at the headings.Exclusive Members Only Club, Membership Guidelines, Revocation of Membership. A shit hole like this should be glad to get people in here, not worry about kicking them out.
He crams the papers in his bag before slamming the metal door. Running his finger across the screen of his lock, he grabs a towel from the stack on the countertop and walks back to the workout room. This new trainer better be fucking good.
Heat flushes his body at the bullshit unfolding behind the window. The beautiful woman stares at the floor, twisting the hem of her pink tank top around her fingers, while some asshole stands in front of her talking, his hands gesturing for emphasis. Multi-colored tattoos snake up his arms under his black t-shirt to the curly blond hair slicked back on his neck. Her head flies up as the guy steps forward, trapping her against the wall, his silver-tipped fingers pressing into her trembling shoulders, holding her in place.
Fuck this.
He shoves the door open and strides up to them as the guy continues his rant.
“I don’t know why you’re being such a bitch. You think you’re too good for me, don’t you?”
Her eyes lock with Nick’s. The sky blue depths churn with fear, pleading with him to help her. All of her peacefulness stolen by a fucking idiot who can’t figure out how to spellforevercorrectly before inking it onto his skin. Nick jerks the man’s arm, pulling him away from her. “Conversation’s over, friend. Time for you to move on.”
“Fuck you. I’m talking…” The smirk on his face evaporates when he meets Nick’s gaze.
Yeah, that’s right, motherfucker, you’re done. Leave her alone and go look up “irony” in the dictionary.
“I’m out of here.” Shoving his hands into his stuffed pockets, the guy walks away muttering under his breath. "Stupid, stuck-up bitch.”
She rubs her shoulders before wrapping her arms around herself, a defensive mechanism he knows too well. If she wasn’t so shaken, he’d follow this bastard out and make it clear who the stupid one is. Slowly releasing his balled fists, he tips his head down to hers. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” The tremor in her voice reveals the truth. Her gaze darts to the door, as if worried the asshole will return.
Yeah, like he’d ever let that fucking happen. "Do you know him?"
“N-No. I was waiting for my friend, and he started talking to me.” She shudders and holds herself tighter. “He wouldn’t let me go.”
He keeps his hands at his sides, stretching out his fingers to prevent them from curling up again. There’s no way he can walk away, leaving her alone and afraid. “I’m waiting for someone too. Mind if we wait together?”
She tilts her head and squints, studying him, seeking answers to questions only she knows. He must pass inspection, because after a few seconds, she nods. “Sure. I’d like that.”
