Page 28

Then, at the word tricep, he uncurled his arm, bringing the weight behind him like a feather. This time, a smaller bulge kicked under his T-shirt. I pulled the hem of my top away from my neck, allowing my skin to breathe. Was it me, or did Odd Duck need to invest in air conditioning?

“These muscles work in harmony to control your arm’s flexion and extension.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. Flexion, extension, I really didn’t care which. Right now, I was more immersed in fascination, witha healthy dose of satisfaction on the side. I hadn’t seen anything as impressive since Eve sent me one of Henry Cavil’s viral workout videos. Maybe they had the same trainer.

Brody turned in the mirror, repeating the movements with his other arm. “You need to keep your focus on proper form, gradually increase resistance, and most of all, listen to your body.”

I'd rather listen to Brody's body in that tight white T and gray track pants. But I had to admit his knowledge of muscles and movement gave me faith that I wasn’t about to pull an arm or break a ligament.

He continued to work his muscles, and I shamelessly stood and admired him. The man in front of me wasn’t the playful Brody I remembered growing up. This man oozed focus. Intensity. Faint lines appeared on his forehead as he studied his body in the mirror.

The Brody I knew would’ve pulled my pigtails or chucked me under the chin by now. Would probably have dropped a dumbbell on my foot just to get a laugh.

“Okay, your turn,” Brody said, breaking the spell and laying the weights he’d used on the rack. He picked up a far lighter set. “We’ll start with triceps. You’re going to need those. For elbowing.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Roller derby isn’t a non-contact sport. You’ll face some pretty tough competition, and you need to rough-in with the best.”

“Like you, you mean?” Even one minute of watching Brody Flockhart on the ice told how tough he was. An impenetrable wall of a man. No amount of pushing weights would give me shoulders or arms like his.

He grinned and rubbed his chin. “If you were built like me, you wouldn’t look so cute in that outfit.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. Damn silly idea of mine not to bring a change of clothes.

Brody sat me down on the edge of an abs board, its plastic sticking to the back of my bare legs. He handed me a lighter set of weights, and under his guidance, I attempted to recreate the tricep exercise. No matter how I tried, though, I couldn’t lift the dumbbell behind me. Instead, my arm wobbled and shook like the San Andreas fault on a bad day.

“I need lighter weights,” I said, dropping them on the floor beside me.

“Those are the lightest ones.”

A quick scan of the rack confirmed his statement. “Is there anything else I can use? A water bottle or maybe a couple of cans of soup?”

He grinned and reached behind the rack, bringing out a thick, green elastic band like they used for PT. “You can try this, but really, I wasn’t sure we’d have to resort to using overgrown hair ties.” He was joking, of course, wasn’t he?

Brody took up position behind me, standing and straddling the bench. He had my complete focus in the mirror. When he passed me the band, I gripped one end near my shoulder and the opposite end with my other hand. Then, I replicated his motion by kicking my arm out behind me.

I completed three extensions. As long as I concentrated, it wasn’t tricky. Or at least I thought it wasn’t. But then Brody stretched out his shoulder, bringing one solid arm down and across his body. My eyes followed his movement, and my breath skittered in my chest. His hips were about twelve inches from the back of my head. Thanks to basic anatomical organization, that meant so was his…

Holy crap! What kind of thought was that? Had I suddenly turned into some sort of gym pervert? Why was I even thinking about his package? I let out a slow breath, timing it with theextension of my arm. I needed to look professional or, at the very least, competent.

But damn him, Brody wouldn’t play along. Satisfied he’d sufficiently stretched his shoulder, he brought both arms over his head, bending backward to extend his spine. His hips moved even closer, and I widened my eyes in the mirror as the bottom of his T-shirt inched above his waistband. A fine line of golden hair and the first set of his abs peeked out from underneath.

I hissed a breath in through my teeth, and at the sound, our eyes met in the mirror. Fire immediately lit my cheeks, and one corner of his lips peaked. The smirk on his face and the realization that he knew I was ogling him brought on a sudden loss of muscle control. With a gasp, I let go of the band, landing a fast elbow directly into his groin.

With a dull “Oof,” Brody crumpled over like a controlled explosion had collapsed his insides.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry!” I squealed, dropping the band and jumping to my feet. By now, he’d sat on the bench, doubled over and groaning. “Can I help?” I mean, I could offer to rub it better, but it probably wasn’t the best suggestion, considering we were alone, and I was already struggling to control my still-raging crush on him.

“No!” His voice was a rasp. “I need to lie flat.” I stepped out of the way, and he reclined backward on the bench, pale-faced and with his hands cupping his groin

I cast my eyes around the gym, looking for an oxygen tank or ice. A hydration station stood in the corner. “I’ll get you some water,” I said, sprinting to the cooler. I pushed down on the pump, filling a paper cup. Satisfied I’d got as much as possible, I raced back to Brody. He lay out like a corpse on the bench, hands above his head.

I made it to his side okay but got totally distracted by his abs again, tripping on the dumbbells I’d left on the floor.

Like a slo-mo sequence from a movie, the entire contents of the cup took flight, landing all over him. As soon as it hit, the liquid soaked into the fabric of his top, rendering it transparent in milliseconds.

“Oh hell, I’m so sorry,” I lied, my hands hovering over the now clearly outlined grooves that made up his armor-plated stomach. Would it be a bad time to ask for an explanation of the workings of the abdominal muscles? At least he’d forgotten about the accidental elbowing in all the chaos.