Page 25 of Quake
He narrowed his eyes and glanced over at Juliette, who was none the wiser.
“Who is that?” he asked, pulling off his gloves.
“A client,” I replied shortly. “And I’m already late for our appointment.”
Turning my back on him, I strode over the mats and ushered Juliette away from the ring—aka, ground zero—knowing I’d have to spend some time talking down Franklin in the morning. There was a reason Gaz and Mitch called him Fragile Frank. The guy took everything to heart.
Juliette peered at my father, an unasked question in her eyes, and she allowed me to guide her into the weight room. Closing the door behind us, the noise from the outer studio was cut, and it was just us…and my father’s beady eyes watching through the windows.
“Who’s that?” she asked, unable to keep a lid on her curiosity.
“No one,” I replied, not wanting to subject her to Vincent Carmichael and his reign ofassholery. Turning my back to the studio, I went on, “Listen, I wanted to explain about the other night.”
She frowned, her forehead creasing. “What do you mean?”
“I was a dick,” I began, but Juliette shook her head.
“I hardly noticed.”
“I snapped at you and…” I trailed off with a shrug. “I’m used to people knowing… Why I’m here and not out there in the ring.”
Juliette just stared at me, frozen to the spot. I was calling attention to myself again in that arrogant dick way I’d inherited from daddy dearest. I’d done the same thing with Ren when I first met her, and she’d called me out on it. Juliette wouldn’t. She was far too polite. Seriously, I didn’t want my injury to be dwelled on, but I was the worst offender.
“Ah, I’m overthinking shit again,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“Don’t look at me,” she said with a groan. “I do the same thing.”
“What a pair we are,” I murmured, caught in her blue eyes.
She was mesmerizing when she let down her guard. Her smile, her vulnerability, her…everything. I felt an overwhelming urge to tell her, but I was afraid she’d run off at the slightest provocation and never come back. I wondered if that was what held me back. Not professionalism, which was what I should’ve been concerned about, but the fact she was so afraid of something it had her constantly spooked.
She peered out into the studio. “That man is gone.”
I smiled, relieved we were no longer being spied on, and the seriousness of our conversation had lifted.
“Who was he? It seemed like you knew him.”
“That was just my complicated father,” I replied. “It’s not worth mentioning.”
“I would listen…” she began awkwardly. “I know I haven’t… I… I know I’m closed…”
“Juliette,” I said, grasping her shoulders. Touching her like this seemed to be the only way to get her attention when she began retreating into herself.
She stared up at me. “What?”
“This, what you and I are doing here, it’s easy. It’s uncomplicated…” I sighed, wanting nothing more than to lean down and kiss her, but it would change everything. “I look forward to our sessions… More than I realized I would.”
She blinked as if she was breaking free from a web of confusion and smiled. “I do, too.”
Before things became muddier, I let her go and gestured to the weights. “Shall we start in here tonight?”
Nodding, she perched on the bench and arranged the weights she wanted to use. Small to begin with, then a heavier set for when her muscles limbered up.
“Thank you,” she said, lifting the first dumbbell. “For caring. I didn’t know how much I needed it until I started coming here.”
I smiled with sadness that had everything to do with my stupid fucking heart, and the line marked ‘professional distance’ flared between us brighter than ever.
“You’re welcome.”
