Page 5 of The Trust
I look up just in time to catch the tail end of the bell above the entrance ringing and a new face saunter up to my desk.
“What can I do for you?”
“Was looking for a trail run of the gym? You do that kind of thing here?”
I nod. “For sure. One day, seven, or a month?”
“Seven.” He reaches for his wallet as I load up the program my employee designed for me and my phone lights up again.
“Sweet, is that you?”
I glance down, seeing only the section of Mac’s torso exposed from behind the notifications on the screen. “Uh, no—”
“Ah, so inspiration then.” The guy nods, a smile that doesn’t feel quite right settling on his face.
Inspiration?
“Something like that,” I mutter distractedly and input the info from his license into the system.
It’s less than thirty seconds that he’s—Craig, his license says Craig—at my desk and yet each one seems to last a mile.
But then Craig’s paid up and heading for the floor like he already knows where to go.
Scowling, I watch him settle in on the shoulder press with headphones on and zones out.
Who the fuck would use their own picture?
“Daddy Jay!” The slap on my ass is quick and stings and jostles shit I’m doing my best not to think about. “Where’s your mac and cheese?”
I drag my sight from the new patron to Lemon, my short raven-haired wingman, and shake off the encounter.
“Working,” I mutter. “Like you should be.”
“Ohhh,” he sighs dramatically. “To be that talented with the fingers.”
Lemon wiggles his digits at me and bounces his brows.
“Don’t forget the feet.”
He rears back with a curl to his glossy lip. “Ew. And I thought I liked some weird shit.”
My laugh is cut off too quick when the movement jostles my ass—and the toy—and I suck back a breath. Clear my throat.
Pray I don’t come in front of my friend and employee.
“I saw they’re working on a new album. Think you can sneak me in the studio?”
He’s not even looking at me and yet my eyes go wide on his back as he fiddles with the water bottle display on the desk.
“Lemon,” I half snap. “We talked about this.”
Don’t talk about Mac’s band when my gym is occupied.
It’s not that I’m hiding it. But Mac’s safety and security to come and go as he pleases here is short lived. I don’t need the entire world knowing he’s here any sooner than they’ll figure it out on their own. Which means that my friend has to keep his trap shut so my boyfriend can come home without issue.
He’s already gotten a few double takes when he struts through here like he owns the place.
I’m actually surprised we’ve gone this long without a mob taking over the gym with us still switching between staying here in my apartment on the third floor and his place.
