Page 18 of Kiss-Fist
“Yo, the name isKyle,” the jackass in question interrupts over my shoulder.
I grin as Leaf looks like he’s fighting off an eye roll. “Sorry.Kylesaid that you’re the one with openings, and I haven’t really gone to the gym in a while, so I could use a few training sessions before I go off on my own.”
I cock a brow at him.
“Okay, fine. I might not have goneever,” he amends.
I gently clap him on the shoulder, not bothering to hide a laugh. “It’s all good, man. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, right? And I’m absolutely taking new clients.” New clientsmake me think of my latest guy—the hot-as-fuck professor who I thought was for sure going to quit on me with the way he limped out of here that first session.
Except he was back the next day.
Now, I don’t shit where I eat—that’s my hard and fast rule—but he made me want to break that silly decision the second he met my gaze with that chiseled jawline and the look on his face like he wanted to stick me in the corner and tell me I was a bad boy.
I might have kind of broken it already by giving him my number. Not that he’ll text me, but I did it anyway.
I fight back a shiver and clear my throat. “What are you looking to work on?”
“I have stress injuries in my wrists and shoulders,” he says, rolling them as if to demonstrate. “And I could be stronger. I’m semi-retired now, so I feel like I shouldn’t waste my time sitting around knitting or whatever, you know?”
I look at him and wonder how old he is. He can’t be more than his mid-thirties. But hey, what do I know? And it’s really not my business anyway.
Retirement sounds like a death sentence to me though. I’d be straight up raw-dogging wheatgrass and lifting until my knees shattered from osteoporosis or whatever the fuck old people got that gives them brittle bones.
But there’s something about Leaf that says it’s not just about being bored. There’s something a little…wild in his eyes. Almost frantic. I’ve seen it before—that sort of fear because something in his life is very wrong. It sends up all my alarm bells.
“Is this a self-defense thing?” I decide to ask. He most definitely got the shit beat out of him, and the closer I look, the more I start to worry. He’s got a pretty nasty bruise that goes from his collarbone all the way down into his shirt. “If you need help, you know we can provide that for you, right?”
Domestic violence does not have a gender, and I will do everything in my power to protect anyone who comes through our doors.
He blinks at me for a beat, and then his entire face erupts into a pink sunset. “Ah. No, no. Nothing like that.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, okay?” I step closer and pay attention to any possible flinching as I put my hand on his shoulder. He stays steady. “We can help.”
He rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling and lets out a long sigh. “If I tell you the truth, you won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
Swallowing thickly, his gaze darts to the side, so I urge him away from the desk and Kyle’s annoying-as-fuck eavesdropping. Leaf glances around us, then says, “I have a groundhog.”
I stare at him for a good thirty seconds. “Is that…a euphemism of some sort?”
He groans. “No. Literally. I mean, it’s not mine. It’s on the fucking property I inherited. I decided to try my hand at farming because, like, how hard can it be, right?” He laughs manically before clearing his throat. “I have this aunt who died, and…well. I won’t bore you with the details. But she left me this house and these chickens, and about a week ago, my neighbor comes over with a rooster and tells me that I need him. I believe her because I’m a fucking moron. So now I’m being woken up at ass o’clock every single day, and I do not do well with sleep deprivation.”
I can’t stop staring at his face as he trauma dumps all over me, and it’s very clear that he’s not making this up. The poor bastard has been through it.
“So, everything’s cool for a few days, right?” He throws his hands into the air, then winces. “Then I’m out trying to fix this fence because apparently dogs and foxes and shit will come eat all my chickens if there’s even the slightest—like, what the hell? I didn’t even know wehadfoxes out here. And suddenly, the rooster goes berserk, crashes into me, sends me flying over the fence and into a rain barrel. The chickens start freaking out and pile on me and start pecking the shit out of me, and as I get up so they don’t peck out my damn eyes, I look over and see this groundhogsmirkingat me like fifty feet away.”
“Smirking?” I blurt.
“I know it sounds insane, but I’m telling you the truth. Its horrible little teeth were sticking out, and it looked so happy with itself.” He rubs both hands down his face. “I told my other neighbor, and he goes, ‘Oh yeah, that’s Michael. He’s kind of a menace around here. Never plant tomatoes because he will eat them all.’”
I blink at him. “His name is Michael?”
Leaf’s eyes start to water, and he sniffles loudly. “Yeah. Anyway, so if I want to be strong enough to go to war with fuckingMichaeland also fix all the broken shit around this farm, I need to work out. That’s why I’m here. I realized I can’t do this alone.”
It’s a miracle I don’t laugh. I need to buy myself a sweettreat as a reward for holding myself together. I clear my throat and nod seriously at him, and I don’t ask if he’ll take me to meet Michael the groundhog, even though I desperately want to.
But I’m also probably going to make Leaf my new best friend. He sounds like fun.
