Page 22 of Hiding for the Holidays
“Do you have family in Mount Pleasant?”
“No, both my parents have passed?—”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I say, knowing how hard that is from personal experience.
“It’s okay; it was a few years ago, and they were in their mid-eighties.” He sees my confusion and smiles. “They had me late in life.”
“How old are you?” I ask, cringing the moment the words escape my lips. I shouldn’t ask my boss something so personal.
He sees my expression and laughs. “I’m forty-two.”
“Damn, you look amazing for your age!” I squeeze my eyes shut and literally facepalm as a groan of embarrassment escapes me. “Please forget I said that.”
He laughs, and I hear the clang of weights as he continues to move them all to the rack. “You gonna tell me how old you are, Clara?”
“Oh,” I drop my hand and take a breath, feeling relieved he’s letting me off the hook and not teasing me about what I said. “I’m thirty-one.”
“Really?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, why? Do I look older?”
“No, younger.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I don’t know why I said that. This man has me all flustered. Watching his biceps bulge as he moves the weights around must be turning me stupid.
“Oh, trust me, there’s nothing about you that’s disappointing.” He looks at me over his shoulder, his gray eyes seeming to say even more than his words as a flush of warmth rolls through me.
I’m saved from having to respond when the door opens. I turn and see Asher walking through the gym, his head swiveling back and forth until he spots me, then he heads straight for us.
“Morning, Clara,” he says, coming to a stop right in front of me. “You look tired.”
My eyebrows raise in surprise. “Excuse me?” I ask in confusion. Not sure if I should be upset that he thinks I look tired or worried that he can see so much of me.
“Did you not get much sleep?”
I shake my head slowly as I respond. “No, not really.”
“Hmm.” His eyes drop to my bag and jacket. “Looks like you just got here, too. Let’s go put our stuff in the back, then I want to show you something.”
Nodding, I glance over my shoulder at Grant, who gives me a quick smile then goes back to moving weights. I follow Asher into the staff room and place my stuff in a locker as he shrugs off his motorcycle jacket and puts it in the one next to mine, along with the bag he had slung over his shoulder.
“Here.” He holds something out towards me, and I tentatively take it.
“Gloves?” I ask, my eyes trailing over the beautiful fur-lined leather gloves in awe and confusion.
“You need gloves to ride the bike in this weather.” He closes his locker door with a bang, making me jump a little. His eyes rake over me as he adds, “I’m giving you a ride home tonight.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay, I don’t mind the walk,” I say, trying to pass them back to him. But he just pushes my hands back towards me and shakes his head.
“I won’t take no for an answer, Clara.” I swallow nervously, looking down at the gloves. I really didn’t want them to know where I lived. It was embarrassing that, as a woman in her thirties, it’s all I could afford.
He moves past me, then stops right beside me and bends towards my ear to whisper, “I already know where you live.” I gasp in shock as he walks out of the room. Before I can worry about his comment, he calls from the hall, “Come on, I want to show you something.”
Shoving the gloves in my locker and closing the door, I hurry after him. What’s gotten into him today? And how does he know where I live?
“Did you follow me?” I can’t help but ask as he moves towards the punching bags.
“Would you be scared if I said yes?” he asks, stopping beside a bag and turning to face me.
