Page 4 of Bear to be Wild
The way she looked at me, the way she seethed at me, confirmed one thing.
Maribelle couldn’t stand me.
Wonderful.
CHAPTER 3
MARIBELLE
New guy tried. He’d lowered the volume of the music, an energetic song with lots of thumping bass. Every now and then, weights would clunk and thump, and he’d bellow out an encouraging “You’ve got this!”
Mr. Motivation.
Ugh, who could be that cheerful this early?
After that class, the loudness next door quieted. I glanced at the Moonlight Siren’s daily schedule and didn’t find any other classes scheduled in the fitness studio for the rest of the day. Thank the goddesses.
My gaze fixed on a photo in one of the flyers. A professional photo of him all smiley stared back at me. Those deep amber eyes crinkled at the corners. His biceps bulged as he crossed his arms across his oversized chest. Yuck! What was he trying to do—enlist passengers to sign up for training or swipe right on a dating site?
Coach Feel-the-Burn had an open house after lunch to discuss physical training packages for the week. It listed his credentials with a bunch of acronyms that might as well have been alphabet soup.
What was his deal? I pursed my lips. When I’d gone over to talk to him, that shifter had thrown me off. I’d expected more arrogance, more pushback. Not fumbling. And definitely not someone so agreeable. His awkwardness during our rash introduction was somewhat endearing. He almost got me to smile. And when he’d asked me my name, a hint of shame washed over me. I hadn’t been welcoming at all. After all, I remembered my first day starting on the Moonlight Siren, overwhelmed by my new environment and eager to make a good first impression.
Perhaps I should have been a tad bit nicer. Put together one of those compliment sandwiches to soften the criticism.
But I wasn’t a damn chef, I was a witch. I created potions and tinctures, not meals.
Charlotte walked her client out and then over to me at the reception desk. “Any new signups today?” She glanced down at the desk with the ship’s daily. “What are you looking at?”
I pointed at Roan’s photo. “Just seeing how often I have to endure listening to the Iron Beast next door today.” I frowned. “His name is Roan. What is it short for? Groan? Because that’s a lot of what I hear coming from next door.”
One side of her mouth slanted up in a smirk. “You seemed to be looking awfully closely at his picture.”
My cheeks heated slightly. “Awful being the key word in this case.” I turned the schedule face down so I wouldn’t see those eyes staring at me.
A small chuckle slipped out of her. “Is he as good-looking in person as he is in his photo?”
I avoided glancing back at the photo, but an image of him standing in front of me in the hall crept into my mind anyway. Perhaps he was somewhat tolerable to look at. Okay, he had kind eyes. A deep, rich amber that had fixed on me with an unnerving intensity.
And his features were not unpleasant. The rugged jawline softened by stubble.
And sure, his body was fit—his shoulders bouldering and chest stretching across like a massive mountain range. His body tapered down to a trim waist. I bet that beneath his fitted shirt he had muscles chiseled into his core.
“Hard to notice,” I dismissed with a snort. “With all that testosterone fogging up around him.”
The next morning,Charlotte and I prepped the massage area for a full roster of guests during a day at sea. And the noise next door returned. Music played, but at a lower volume than yesterday morning. Grunting. And Roan’s encouragement—so much damn motivation.
“What’s hedoingover there?” I said.
She scanned through the ship’s daily. “A Tabata class. Includes kettlebells.”
I fake gagged. “With all that grunting? Is he coaching them to give birth to a kettlebell?”
Charlotte chuckled and walked by me.
“Breathe in serenity,” I repeated yesterday’s mantra. “Breathe out urge to hex.”
“Maribelle,” Charlotte scolded in a knowing tone and wagging index finger. “Don’t go there. You got away with it with Van, but that could’ve gotten you fired.”
