Page 8 of Work It Out
It wouldn’t be so bad. She could drag in a few mats. At least she wouldn’t be doing ab exercises on them for once. Silver lining.
Samuel stepped into the doorway. “We know you’re as broken as the rest of us.” She swayed at the unexpected slap to her pride, but he wasn’t done. “Have for a while now. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re still here. You’ve already earned your spot on this team, Rayah. No one’s kicking you off or taking your place if you let your guard down.” He stared at her long and hard in that rare, uncomfortable way of his, but she couldn’t find her voice. Another shrug. “Thought you should know.” He turned and went back to scrubbing the toilet.
Shaking, she shoved the laundry bin ahead of her and escaped out the back door.
Samuel had some freaking nerve talking to her like that. He’d had a front row seat when everyone she cared about turned on her. How could he pretend the crew she’d lured in from all over the country with promises of Explosion’s success wouldn’t hate her if she let it all fall apart?
She was halfway down the ramp to the driveway when she remembered her good undies hadn’t made it out of the bathroom yet. Not interested in wrestling the bin to the top again, she left it on the driveway and rushed back through the open sliding door.
And nearly ran full tilt into Jake Newman.
Damn, but the man gave good grin. Dimples, he had deep, insanely sexy dimples. Their boyishness struck the perfect balance against the devilish dare sparkling in his eyes. And those eyes… The color was so distinctive, the pale gray of wispy clouds gliding in front of the moon. The edges were limned in silver, for crying out loud. Was it any wonder he was on TV?
That grin kicked up a notch. “If this is a new housekeeping practice, I am so here for it.”
For a protracted moment she was so busy staring at him like a dope, his words didn’t register. When they did, they didn’t make any sense. New housekeeping…
Then she saw what he was holding. Heat flashed through her face. Sweet baby Jesus in the manger. Dangling from one long finger of the only man who’d made her heart pound in nearly a decade was her lacy pink thong.
“Mints on the pillow are so passé.” The timbre of his voice was too low and sultry for true amusement. “Lingerie on the other hand? Aesthetically pleasing and functional.”
She snatched the underwear from his hand, then whirled to the bed. There on the fluffy pillows lay the matching bra, along with two other skimpy bra/panty combos.
Where was a sinkhole when she needed one?
“Sorry,” she croaked. Cleared her throat. “This cabin hadn’t been cleaned as thoroughly as it should’ve. The previous occupant left a few things behind.” She gathered the bundle of lace and satin into her arms. “We’ll be out of your way in a…” She trailed off as she looked at him, really looked at him. “What’s wrong?”
A muscle in his jaw flexed like he was gritting his teeth but trying not to show it. “I don’t know what you mean.” He forced a facsimile of a smile and walked to the back door. “Wow, this place keeps getting better and better.”
Rayah wasn’t sure if he was talking about the mountain panorama or the Victoria’s Secret stockpile. Quickly, she stepped outside and dumped the armload into the bin, but only so he’d focus. She wouldn’t be distracted. Something was seriously wrong.
When she walked back in, he jumped off the bed like it had bit him on the butt. Or like he didn’t want her to know he’d been resting against it. The moment he stood, his face blanched white and he swayed on his feet.
Jabbing a finger at the bed, Rayah ordered, “Sit down.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she snapped, “Now.”
That devilish grin returned, but it no longer reached his eyes. “I never would’ve thought it, but the bossy thing totally works for me. Maybe it’s because you’re so tiny that it’s more cute than intimidating.”
Eyes narrow, she stepped into his space and jerked his chin up.
“Okay, maybe a little intimidating.”
His pulse fluttered in the hollow of his throat, the movement much too fast, and she didn’t think it had anything to do with her closeness or her rogue panties. His skin was waxen and far too pale, but more concerning was the pained, glassy look in his eyes and the labored sound of his breathing.
“When’s the last time you were this high?”
He tried to rip his chin from her grasp. “I’m not high. I’ve never done drugs in my life. Ask Pierce. I—”
“Elevation, Jake.” She softened her tone as she took his face between her palms. “We’re over six thousand feet. When’s the last time you were at this kind of altitude?”
The tension leached out of him, and he rested his head in her hands, took another shallow breath. His cheek rubbed against her palm, unconsciously reaching for a tiny piece of affection, a feeling she understood all too well.
“I haven’t been home in a while. I used to run these mountains with Pierce all the time, but I’ve been in L.A. for six years now. Some location stuff… I’ve never had altitude sickness before, though.”
She didn’t like the slur to his words. “Congratulations. You have now.”
He chuckled. “Your mountain took my mountain-sick cherry.”
“Damn, dude. You didn’t used to work this fast. Looks like you picked up some game in L.A. Except that last line. That was awful.” Pierce stood in the doorway, that annoying smirk on his smug mug. Samuel stood beside him, mouth agape. Behind them, Blaine did his impression of a junkyard dog begging to be let off the chain.
