Page 10 of Sweet Caroline
“Doesn’t matter who I am. You shouldn’t be approaching women at the gym, period.”
“Sorry, man,” he repeats, then throws a contrite face her way. “Just… sorry.”
When he fucks off, I open my mouth to check if she’s okay, but she speaks first.
“Thank you,” she says, her gaze slipping from mine, lingering for a beat on the honeybee inked on my left thigh before darting between the few onlookers nearby. She seems nervous.
Awareness slowly settles in—that I assumed she needed my help. Maybe she wanted to handle the moaning dingus herself.
Crap. Did I misread this?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I gesture uselessly at the retreating asshole, second-guessing everything. “Wasn’t sure if…” I glance at the clock again and pull off my ball cap to smooth back my sweaty hair. I gotta get out of here, but I don’t wanna run off on her yet—especially when I can’t finish a fucking sentence. Replacing my hat,I ask, “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m…” She makes a gesture like she’s waving it all off. “He was…”
I arch a tentative brow as I pick up my water bottle. “Fucking weird?”
Her eyes snap to mine, and she lets out a little laugh. “Uh, yeah. That’s one way to put it.”
I catch sight of the guy heading for the exit.Good riddance.
“Uh, look,” I say, turning back to her, “I hate to just take off here, but I need to get to work.”
“You know what?” Her shoulders drop and she stands, coming around from the machine. “I’m actually leaving too. I can walk you out.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m… I’m not really feeling it today. The wind kept me up last night.” She quickly wipes down her machine, then hands me the spray bottle and towel. “I also haven’t been here before, and I’m feeling kind of… I dunno,”—she scrunches her nose, looking around the place—“out of my element, I guess?”
“Yeah, well,” I say, wiping down my machine, “I bet that asshole’s sex noises didn’t help.”
She tilts her head.
Fuck. Why did I mention sex?
“So, you wanna get outta here, or…?” I quickly replace the cleaning spray in its wall bracket and lift my chin toward the elevator. When she nods, we do an awkward little start-stop routine as we head for the exit. She’s taller than I thought. I could probably rest my chin on her head.
Whoa. What the fuck am I thinking?
Dismissing the mental image, I throw a glance toward the men’s locker room as we collect our gym bags. Guess I’ll have to change in my truck, and the guys on the job site will have to deal with me skipping the shower, because smelling good just took a back seat to spending another few minutes with…
I still don’t know her name. Shit.
“I’m Miles, by the way.” I hit the elevator button.
“Caroline.” She slings her gym bag over her shoulder.
Caroline.
“Like the song, right? Sweet Caroline?” I narrowly avoid belting out the iconicbaah-baah-baah,calling it a win that, for once, I didn’t blurt the first thought in my head.
And that I didn’t fuckingsing.
“Ugh, no,” she groans, dropping her shoulders as the doors slide open in front of us.
“No?” I follow her into the elevator, a bit thrown by her response.
Did I hear the wrong name?
