Page 27

I clenched my teeth. “No,” I gritted out. “I don’t understand, because you’re not explaining it to me. And the last time I checked, you’re not my father.”
I heard his bitter laugh on the other end. “You probably planned this, didn’t you? You knew exactly what you were doing.”
I shook my head, closing my eyes. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I no longer cared. “I’m not moving. I don’t want to.”
“No. I don’t suppose you do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I shot out.
But then my phone beeped again, and I pulled it away from my ear seeing Call Ended. I dropped my head back, exasperated. What the hell?
Why wouldn’t Trevor want me at Delcour? He hated Meridian City, but what did Delcour have to do with that?
And then I lifted my chin, closing my eyes as realization hit.
Michael. Trevor hated Michael, and Michael was at Delcour. He didn’t want him around me.
But if Michael didn’t give me the time of day at home, nothing would be any different here. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even know he lived at Delcour if I hadn’t run into him last night. I had no reason to think I’d see him on a regular basis.
I let out a sigh and ran my fingers across my forehead, wiping away the light layer of sweat. The argument had me heated now.
And with energy to spare.
I gripped the phone, feeling the hilt of a blade in my fist and the fire in my legs to move.
Bringing up my phone, I typed in a search for “fencing clubs.”
“HELLO.” I APPROACHED THE FRONT DESK of Hunter-Bailey, seeing the attendant’s head pop up. “I saw online that you have a fencing club, and I was wondering if you have open bouting nights.”
He pinched his eyebrows together, looking confused. “Excuse me?”
I shifted uncomfortably. Hunter-Bailey was reputed to have one of the most active fencing clubs in the state with private lessons and a large area for group workouts. It was also the only location in the city to offer fencing.
The facility was a little more intense than the Thunder Bay Rec Center that I was used to, though. Massive area rugs adorned the hardwood floors, while dark wood made up the stairs and all of the furniture. The upholstery was kept to dark tones like forest green, black, and midnight blue, and the place was old, dark, and very male. I’d also noticed the fancy marble dome ceiling and stained glass windows when I’d walked in.
“Fencing,” I clarified, looking at the young man dressed in a suit. “I’m looking for a club. I’ll purchase a membership if I need to.”
I really didn’t need classes. I’d been studying nearly my entire life. But I would love a chance to connect with other fencers, pair up for practice bouts, and make some friends.
But the guy was looking at me like I was speaking in Japanese.
“Rika,” a deep voice called, and I twisted my head, seeing Michael walk across the foyer from the front doors.
What was he doing here?
He approached me, wearing loose jeans and a navy blue T-shirt, everything he wore always accentuating his chest, arms, and height. A gym bag hung off his shoulder with a black sweater draped over it.
“What do you want?” His sharp tone bit.
I opened my mouth. “I…um—”
“You know this young woman, Mr. Crist?” the clerk asked, chiming in.
Michael stared at me, looking none too pleased with running into me, either. “Yes.”
The clerk cleared his throat. “Well, she’s interested in joining our fencing club, sir.”
The corner of Michael’s mouth quirked in a grin, and he nodded at the clerk. “I’ll take care of it.”
I watched the clerk disappear into the back, leaving us alone in the quiet area, distant voices from the closed doors behind me drifting through.
I gripped the strap of my satchel lying across my chest. “I didn’t know you fenced.”
“What makes you think I fence?”
I looked around, indicating where we were. “Well, you’re in a fencing club.”
“No,” he drawled out, looking amused. “I‘m in a gentlemen’s club.”
A gentlemen’s club. Like a strip club?
But looking around, I didn’t see anything that gave the indication that there were pole dancers, private rooms, or lap dances being performed here.
Hunter Bailey was pristine, elegant, and old, like a museum where you were told to be quiet and not touch anything.
I shook my head, befuddled. “I’m lost. What do you mean?”
He let out a sigh, tipping his chin down and looking at me like his patience was wearing thin. “This is Hunter-Bailey, an exclusive men’s club, Rika,” he explained. “A place where guys go to work out, swim, steam, drink, and bullshit away from all the people that bug the shit out of them.”
Bug the shit out of them?
“Like women?” I guessed.
He just stared at me, holding the strap of his bag with his head slightly cocked.
“So…” I looked around and then back to him, “women aren’t actually allowed in here then?”
“Nope.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s completely ridiculous.”
No wonder the clerk had looked at me so funny. Why didn’t they post a sign outside saying No Women Allowed then?
But…I guessed that would probably just make women want to come in more.
Michael stepped up to me. “When women get to enjoy Ladies Night Out specials or their own private workout area at a gym, it’s okay, but when a guy wants their own space, it’s archaic?”