Page 62 of Lost Lyrebird
His grin deepens.“Smart woman.”
“You wanna check it out for the day or—”
I shake my head before he can finish.“Full membership, please.I’m a sucker for pasta, and if I don’t get at least a few solid workouts in a week, on top of dance practice, this body will rebel and pack all those calories into my ass.”
He lets out a deep, easy laugh and crosses his arms over his chest.This move draws my eyes to the arm porn that is his extremely large biceps.“Not necessarily a bad thing.”
I smirk.“Maybe not for you.”
His eyes glint, but he doesn’t push it.Instead, he nods toward the receptionist.“Megan here will go over membership options and get you set up in our system.After that, if you want, I can give you the tour.”
Smooth.Direct.
And exactly what I was hoping for.
I smile graciously up at him.“I don’t want to put you out.I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”
He waves me off.“Don’t mind at all.And I’d do it for you regardless, bein’ a friend of Raven’s and all.”
“He does a tour for pretty much everyone,” Megan pipes up.“Especially the pretty newbies.”Her eyes dance with amusement.
“Shut it, you,” Dozer growls playfully at her.The two banter back and forth.Megan seems like more than an employee.She appears to be a friend.She’s around the same age as me, mid-twenties, and wears a sizable sparkly rock on her ring finger.Based on the amount of flirting between them, which is nil, my guess is she’s either happily married or doesn’t swing that way.Because with Dozer’s looks, his contagious smile, and the body of a God, any woman with a working libido would fall over themselves around him.And the various tattoos representing his time as a SEAL only add to his attractiveness.
It’s not just his all-American fallen hero vibe, though—it’s his posture, his confidence, his boldness, and all the head-on fucking eye contact.
He’s not shy and doesn’t mince words.
Knowing what I know about him—his military record and prior to that, his stellar football history in this town, not to mention the fact he’ll be the one running the club when his old man, Cap, steps down—I imagine he’s got quite a slew of females falling over themselves to get his attention.
Thankfully, I’m not one of them, but that has more to do with me than him.
Megan does her thing and gets me all set up.Within ten minutes, Dozer takes over and leads me around the club, pointing out the various areas and exercise rooms.He explains certain equipment and their hygiene practices in the main workout room.
We pass one Grinder, but Dozer doesn’t interrupt him.Probably because he’s in the zone.Where Dozer is clean cut with Viking-like features, Grinder has short, somewhat curly brown hair, and half of his face is covered in burn scars.He’s curling weights in each hand and staring intently at himself in a large floor-to-ceiling mirror, singularly focused on his reflection in the mirror and whatever is playing in the earbuds he’s got in his ears.
We move along quickly, and Dozer introduces me to two of his personal trainers—one male and one female.He shows me the new addition to the gym, a boxing area with eight different spaces, hanging bags, and a boxing ring in the corner.
It’s here where a few other HOCs have gathered.Taz, the club’s enforcer, a guy with short dark-brown hair styled in a mohawk, is battling a speed bag with such rapid movements that the bag blurs.
His body is a work of dark art, completely covered in intricate ink, mechanical, machine-like designs.They crawl up his neck and the side of his face, which is dripping with perspiration.His dark brows are pulled together in concentration, and his mouth is set in a firm line.
When we get within a few feet of him, he stops punching and stills the bag with one hand before giving me a critical once-over.
Dozer kicks his chin.“Lily, Taz.Taz, Lily.She’s the new dancer at Tips.”
Taz smirks sardonically.His eyes are so brown they’re almost black, and they’re a bit disturbing as he levels me with his stare.“Yeah, I know.The new girl with the nice rack,” he says, before resuming his workout on the bag.
Dozer exhales through his nose, a half-laugh, half-grunt, as he grabs the sides of his waist and drops his head.He shakes it back and forth.“Don’t mind him.He’s an acquired taste.One I’m still trying to get used to.”
“Same, Frogman,” Taz fires back.
“Better a frogman than a conman.”
“Acquitted.”
Dozer chuckles.“Ah, well.The system doesn’t always get it right.”
Taz grumbles under his breath and puts more force into his next dozen hits.
