Page 4 of Love Lessons
Summer vacation is supposed to be the most relaxing time of the year. But I’m not relaxed. Not even a little.
I unplug the saw. I’m winding up the cord when I feel eyes on me. Straightening up, I lift my gaze to the front window of Vera’s building. There’s movement there, damn it. The glare prevents me from getting a clear view inside. But I know what I saw.
She likes watching me. Even if she won’t admit it.
I look right at that damn window and smile. Then I lift a hand and give her a wave and a cheesy wink. She’ll hate that.
I feel a little better already.
* * *
It’sweird walking into the Bruisers’ headquarters on a summer day—like showing up at high school during summer vacation. The practice rink is drained for maintenance, and the locker room is cleared of jerseys.
During June and July, the place runs on a skeleton crew. Management comes in only a couple days a week. The trainers work limited hours, accommodating the athletes who want to use the gym.
There’re only two reasons to go to the team HQ in the middle of summer—to lift weights or see management. Since I prefer the former to the latter, I head over early to do a nice heavy workout.
It helps, too. After several sets of squats and lunges in the lonely gym, I’m sweating from every pore and feeling more like myself. In the quiet locker room, I take a quick shower and get dressed.
As I’m leaving the practice facility, I hear voices in the stretching room. Since there’s no need to be early for my lashing upstairs, I open the door to see who’s here.
Two heads whip in my direction. There’s my teammate, Newgate, and the new trainer, Gavin. They both look startled to see me.
“Hey guys,” I say into the silence. “Just wondered who was around on a hot July day.”
“Hey,” Newgate says stiffly. He walks right past me and out the door.
Okay. Whatever. He and I aren’t close, but that was kinda rude. “I guess I’m not the only one in a sorry-ass mood today.”
Gavin just shakes his head. “Need a spotter?” he asks. “I thought Newgate was going to work out, but it looks like I came in for nothing.”
“No, I’ve got a meeting with the suits.”
“Lot of that going around,” Gavin says quietly. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
My stomach rolls. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”
I go upstairs to take my beating.
* * *
“In here,Crikey. Thank you for coming in.” Hugh Major, our team manager, waves me into his office.
“Of course, sir.” I take a seat in the chair opposite his desk. The only other person present is Tommy, one of the co-heads of publicity. I guess that’s a good sign—a firing squad of just two.
I can take ’em.
“All right.” Hugh slaps a meaty hand on his big, intimidating desk. “Now what theever-loving fuckhappened last night?”
Uh-oh.
He fixes me with a stare. “Arrested? Is that really the look you need right now?”
“No, sir,” I agree quickly. “But in my defense, it was just a party. I wanted to throw a rager while the place was still in rough shape. But there was no actual raging—just music and dancing.”
“Still,” Hugh grunts. He seems to be trying some kind of intimidation tactic with his eyes. It’s a look that says:Fly straight, asshole, or I’ll have you sent down to the farm team by cocktail hour. “Have you seen your mugshot? Because every reader ofPuck Raidershas.”
He swivels his laptop around, and I brace myself.
