Page 78 of Grand Love

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If there isanything I love more than my son, and maybe dancing—although I’m so off dancing right now—it’s the buzz that lives in the four walls of the gym. It vibrates within me and follows me around like a hand to the back, propelling me to keep going.

I love it here. Although my studio was more sacred to me after months of building it up alone, L&M is everything I think I needed right now. To think I worked somewhere as stuffy as The Earl Marks, blows my mind. It just wasn’t me.

My only concern right now is the man-child who has just walked up the steps and into the gym. His eyes scan the room until they find me. I wonder if I will ever tire of looking at him. He is the picture of perfection—in my eyes anyway.

Is that what love truly is?

Loving someone through their scars, the imperfections and quirks that you learn to live with because you couldn’t go more than a day without seeing them, no matter how imperfect that vision is.

I’ve always seen the good in people, even when they have been bad to the bone.

“I didn’t think you’d be back after what happened.”

He stops beside me and looks out at the busy gym. “If I stop it will only make it worse.” He looks down at me, then focuses on my chin. He tips his head. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine.” I wave him off.

“Let me see,” he demands, taking my face in his hand and tilting my head back.

“Vinny didn’t tell me you had stitches.”

“He didn’t?”

“No,” he grits out, his face stony and pissed off.

“It’s healing well, it’s just—”

His thumb brushes over the broken skin. “Sore! Owww, don’t touch it!”

“I thought you said it was fine,” he tuts.

“It is.” Is he that stupid? “You shouldn’t touch it. I don’t know where your hands have been. It’ll probably get infected now.”

“Drama queen,” he scoffs, hitting me with a panty-melting smile. He seems to be in a good mood. I like it. “Will you PT me?”

I recoil, shaking my head. “What? No!”

He rolls his eyes and strolls off, ending the conversation. As if Mason fucking Lowell needs a PT. You only have to look at the man’s body to see he knows his way around a gym. He’s fitter than most of the men in this place. I’ve not had to train anyone yet, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want Mason as my first client, not when he would ridicule me on what I set for him. Because he would.

“Nina,” Logan calls from the office.

I go to his office and lean against the doorframe. “Yes?”

“Lowell wants PT, asked for you specifically.”

I frown over my shoulder at Mason who is now on the rower. His lip curls up on one side, making it obvious that he knows why Logan called me in here. Smug bastard. “I don’t want to PT him. Find someone else.”

Logan pops a brow, looking up from the sheet of paper in his hand. I never took him for the type of guy who’d end up in an office doing paperwork. “You know, it could be good for you both.”

“What are you, a couple’s councillor now, too?”

“Call it what you want. You have air to clear, so why not do that in a safe environment.”

“Because it’s not a safe environment. I’d probably end up choking him with the rowing machine cord, Logan. Do you have any idea how mad he makes me feel?” I thumb towards Mason who’s going hell to leather on the rower. “It would be completely unprofessional.” And just straight-up torture.

He watches me for a moment, deep in thought.

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