Page 21

Chapter 21

Meddling

Dell

W hen Isaiah walks through my door Monday evening for his session, a tendril of guilt wraps around my heart and tugs. I have two plans mapped out, and they’re either both going to work or both will fail. It’s about to get messy, and friendships are going to change one way or the other. Because here’s the thing: Robyn deserves to be happy, and I think I know just how to push Isaiah’s buttons to make that happen.

Chester immediately hops down from his window perch next to BooBoo to greet his man. Weaving between his legs, Isaiah is forced to stop and acknowledge my attention-hungry cat.

“Hey, pal,” Zay coos, picking up the orange furball and walking over to me. “You clearly don’t give him enough attention.”

“All I do is love him,” I reply, taking the big loaf from him. Chester climbs up my back and sits on my shoulder like a parrot. “He’s obviously my son because he gets his lovability from me. I’m very lovable, Zay. You should give me more attention,” I say with a wink.

Heat rises in his adorable round cheeks before he lowers his head. “You’re hard to miss.”

“What was that?” I taunt.

“You’re hard to miss. You, um…” he pulls at the back of his neck. “You have quite the following on social media.”

“Oh,” I beam. “You finally found it, huh? Don’t be shy, Big Daddy. Tell me, are you watching for workout tips or for less respectable reasons?”

Right when I think he’s about to turn away and ignore me, he looks me directly in the eye. “Why can’t it be both?” He flashes me the faintest grin and saunters off to our warm-up area.

“I do declare,” I drawl, fanning myself like I’m Blanche from The Golden Girls . “Did you hear that, Ches? I think Isaiah made a pass at me.”

When he doesn’t confirm nor deny it, I lean into my plan.

Grabbing the resistance band connected to a post, Isaiah sets up for his bilateral external rotations. His back is to me as he faces the wall.

God, his dark, hair-dusted legs are so thick and tightly muscled, and his back… What I wouldn’t give to see him shirtless right now. I wonder if he has more tattoos than the team crest on his thigh and the black and blue partial sleeve.

No, think of Robyn.

His first few reps are smooth, and though his right shoulder dips a little from his injury, all in all, he’s made good progress. When I think he has the cadence down perfectly and he’s essentially trapped, I take a step closer and lean in.

“How’s the new job?”

“Good,” he breathes.

“Yeah? It must be hard having feelings for one of your players.”

Mid-rep, he falters but catches himself quickly. “Yeah. It’s kind of hard.”

“I don’t know how you do it. Being around her that much and not being able to do anything about it. She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

“She is,” he nods.

“But not as pretty as me, right?”

The pale skin of his neck turns pink. “You, uh, you’re both pretty.”

Needing to see his face, I step back and lean against the wall in front of him. I cross my arms and wave my head around like I’m fluffing my hair, even though it’s tied up in a bun. “It’s the gorgeous long hair and muscles, I know.”

Isaiah fails to stifle a nervous laugh, and Chester takes the opportunity to leap off my shoulder and join his boyfriend on the window perch.

“How is it that a man like you didn’t make a move on her sooner? You know, before you became her coach. You’ve known her for a long time, right?”

“Since college.”

“It’s a shame,” I tsk. A shock of nerves prickles under my skin, but I tamp them down and stick to my plan. “You know, I think I’ve had a change of heart. You wouldn’t mind if I asked her out, would you?”

His eyes go wide and he stops his set. “What?”

It’s high time someone makes a fucking move between the three of us.

“I thought you said you don’t date your clients.”

“Rules were made to be broken,” I lie, hoping that thought niggles its way into the caveman part of his brain—all the while hoping that I can keep believing it myself.

When Isaiah’s mouth gapes like a fish, I take my time scanning his burly body from head to toe. Even with a deer-in-the-headlights look about him, he has such handsome features. His ocean-blue eyes are striking against his pale, but slightly tanned skin, and his lush beard is almost as shiny as his inky brunette hair. He’s wearing old rugby shorts and a T-shirt that’s tight around his biceps and chest but skims his round belly. I wonder if he has hair on his stomach, too. My cock thickens at the thought.

Fuck, I love bears.

“But,” he swallows, his voice shaky, “You said you were just her wingman. Just helping her out. ”

Where did that possessiveness go from the last time we talked? I distinctly remember him saying, “She’s mine,” followed by growling. Hmm . Does my big bear have a submissive side to him? Interesting…

“I changed my mind. I think I’ll take her out again,” I say lightly, pushing off the wall and gesturing for him to lie down on the padded table for his neck flexor sets. When he tentatively does, I continue, any trace of a smile gone. I replace it with a stern, slow voice. “And this time, we won’t be interrupted by security, will we?”

Isaiah is visibly shaken but nods in a way that confirms my earlier suspicion. He likes being put in his place—told what to do, even at the expense of his own desires. Maybe… this is exactly what he desires.

He’s not security at the club anymore, but he still most likely has connections. If he’s really a good boy, he’s going to do as I say. But I have a feeling he doesn’t need to know when I’m taking her because he’s going to show up regardless.

It’s time to see just how desperate Isaiah Johanssen is.