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“No, it’s not. You have to be a team player. You’re a wonderful coach to those kids, Ro.”

Her face flushed, and she looked up at me from under her lashes. “Okay, let’s go. Ladies first.” She gestured to the door.

I snickered. “Careful, Small Fry. It doesn’t pay to be cheeky tothiscoach. Remember, you’re at my mercy tonight.”

She smirked, switching off the lights and closing the doors behind us with a slam. “We’ll see.”

I hovered outside the door as the thick evening air wrapped around us. “Ro?” I kicked an imaginary stone with my toe. “Did you ever date Finn? Eve made it sound like you’d dated the whole town.”

A faint line hit her brow, then her lips curved in a glorious arc. “You should know better than to ask a lady about her past. But no. I didn’t.”

With a flick of her pigtails, she took off toward the front of the school, leaving me grinning in her wake. The burn in my chest and the unsettling creep of my mind lifted. The thought of her and Finn together, even for a drink, didn’t sit well. But when my heartbeat picked up, I checked myself.

I was a man on a mission. A coach. Nothing more. I needed to keep all thoughts about Ro above my belt and out of my heart. But sweating it out in the gym together for the next hour would be on par with eternity in hell.

10

RO

The smell of leather and, well, men hit my nostrils as Brody held open the door to the Put Up Your Ducks fight gym. I breathed in the thick, muggy air, and my heartbeat kicked up a level.

“Where is everybody?” I wasn’t expecting an aerobics class or anything. Still, one or two sweaty boxers would’ve settled the gentle rolling in my gut.

“Odd Duck said we could have the place to ourselves for an hour.”

I wagged my head and chuckled. I’d have a word with the owner. Nicholas “Odd Duck” D’onofrio had no idea he’d opened his gym to an egomaniac and an inappropriately dressed cheerleader for the evening.

Going straight for humor, I turned in a circle as I walked past the giant mural on the wall and the boxing ring. “I see. Worried there’ll be a lineup of adoring fangirls at the door trying to get a peek at you?”

Brody shrugged, lifting a brow. “I could say the same. Although I’ve seen little evidence of hopeful men hangingaround. Eve made it sound like you were fighting them off with a pitchfork.”

I scoffed and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “Remember. Three brothers?”

Brody winced and nodded. “Point taken.”

He glanced over at the mural on the wall and stopped short. He looked back at me before stepping toward one of the little ducks in the painting. Rubber ducks were Nick’s thing. “I just realized. That’s you.” He pointed at a duck holding a row of knitting in its wing. It had on a pair of rollerskates and wore braids.

I grinned. “Sure is. You’ll find a lot of residents here. Having a spot on Nick’s wall is like a badge of honor. You may even get your own picture one day. I can just imagine your duck. He’d have a hockey stick and skates, but I’m not sure there’s enough room on the wall to fit your ego.”

“Damn,” he murmured, raking his eyes over me. “I think hanging out with you will fix that. I’m gonna need to put you through your paces. Iron out your insubordination with a bit of hard work. We wouldn’t want your coach to up and quit now, would we?”

I raised a brow. “I’m ready to work. What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s start with some free weights.” He glanced at my outfit. “Do you wanna change?”

Honestly, yes. I’d had the misguided idea that if my cheer outfit was okay for a dance workout, it would be alright for a gym visit. Then, I saw myself in one of the wall mirrors. I looked ridiculous. I should be grateful nobody else was here. But I didn’t want to show weakness. Brody already thought I needed toughening up. I put on my most breezy voice. “I kind of like the look. Where do you want me?”

His eyes flared with something I hoped was humor. “That’s an interesting question. I think over here.”

Brody led me to a stand of metal dumbbells set next to an enormous mirror. I hung back just long enough to glimpse his thick, sun-kissed neck as he leaned in to check the rack. I ran my hand over the icy surfaces of the nearest weights, desperate for something to cool me off. Ever since he’d sat in the stands at the school and watched me dance, I’d struggled to keep an even body temperature.

Of course, he wasn’t helping. Instead, he ran his eyes over me from bottom to top, lingering at my thighs. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the intensity of his stare ignited the smallest tingle, low, low down in my belly.

“Your legs look just fine.” Was he okay? His voice had dropped to a gravelly rasp, but as soon as it faded, his smile returned. “We’ll start with your arms.”

He picked up a weight from the rack with a satisfying clunk. The dumbbell looked heavy enough to sink a rowboat. “Two major muscle groups power your arm. The biceps and the triceps.”

With those words, Brody extended his arm, then curled the weight close to his chest. I swallowed. If the colossal mound of tan skin on the inside of his arm was a bicep, then sign me up to buy a dozen. Preferably his.