Reid pushed open the double doors and walked through a large room resembling the inside of a YMCA. Treadmills, ellipticals, weight sets, and exercise balls. No sparring cage. No floor mats. No punching bags. However there was an old man of about eighty-plus years walking so slow on a treadmill that he was practically immobile.
“This blows,” he mumbled as he approached the small office with his PT’s name, Lucinda Miller, on the partially closed door. He raised his hand to give a quick rap before announcing himself, but paused when he heard soft sniffles coming from the bowed head of a brunette sitting behind the desk. At least he assumed it was a desk. It was hard to tell what was under the stacks of files and papers. Instead of knocking, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, this a bad time?”
The woman spun her chair around to face the back wall, hitting her knee on a file cabinet in the process and muttering an expletive he’d bet she didn’t use publicly very often. Though he hadn’t seen her face yet, he couldn’t help but find her clumsiness sort of cute. When she grabbed a Kleenex from somewhere on her floor and blew her nose he was reminded that she was in a vulnerable moment. “I can come back.”
“No, no.” She blew her nose and then gestured behind her without turning around. “If you could just go have a seat in the next room, I’ll be right with you.”
Sounded good. As much as he hated to see a woman upset, it was bad enough having to console someone he knew, much less a woman he didn’t. Finding the room, Reid leaned his hips on the padded table, absentmindedly cracking his knuckles as he waited. It was only another minute before she breezed in, eyes on his file, while making a beeline to the small desk along the wall.
“I’m terribly sorry about that,” she said. “Let me just take a brief moment to look this over and we’ll get down to business.”
“Take your time.” Something about her voice poked at his brain. Almost like he’d heard it before.
“Okay, Mr. Johnson, let’s take a look at—”
They froze as recognition took hold.
“Luce?”
“Reid?”
It had been several years—shit, six, maybe even seven or more, he couldn’t remember—since the last time he’d seen his best friend’s little sister. Her face was blotchy with her eyes rimmed in red from crying so he almost hadn’t realized it was her, but the freckle at the outer corner of her left eye vaguely shaped like a heart gave her away. It was just barely visible under the dark-rimmed, rectangular glasses she wore.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, giving his waist a hard squeeze. It’d been so long since he’d seen anyone from their hometown, and besides her brother, she’d be the only person he’d care to see. He returned her hug, tucking his head down to hers. Her hair smelled like a mix of flowers and summer, so different from the heavy perfume concoctions he was used to women wearing.
She released him, taking a seat on the swivel stool in front of the desk while tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I can’t believe it’s you. Wait, why does my chart say Randy Johnson?”
Reid chuckled at the ridiculous name he used for anonymity. “It’s an alias.” Wanting to erase the pained look from whatever had happened before he arrived, he gave her a wicked smile and added, “And sometimes a state of being.”
Her brows gathered together for the few seconds it took to sink in, then her cheeks flushed with color and her eyes grew wide. “Reid!”
He couldn’t have stopped his laugh if he wanted to. The shocked look on her face was totally worth it. “Come on, Lu-Lu, you can’t still be that innocent after all these years.”
“My innocence or lack thereof is none of your business, Andrews. And be forewarned: if anyone hears you call me one of those ridiculous nicknames, I’ll stab you in the jugular with my pen.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough, Lubert.” She rolled her eyes, but he interrupted her before she could get a good mad on. “Speaking of names, what’s up with Lucinda Miller? I don’t see a ring. You in the witness protection plan or something?”
She averted her eyes, suddenly finding that her name tag needed repinning. “No. I was married briefly in college. Jackson probably didn’t tell you about it because we eloped and it didn’t last very long.” She cleared her throat and smiled at him, but it barely reached her cheeks, much less her eyes. “You know how it is. Capricious youth and all that. I just never bothered to change my name back. But at least I still have the same initials, right?”
Her attempt at disguising her true feelings reminded him of what he’d walked in on. Something or someone had hurt her, and it instantly called on his protective instincts. After all, Lucie wasn’t just any woman. He’d grown up with her trailing after him and her brother, Jackson Maris. And since Jax, also a UFC fighter, was in Hawaii with his training camp and couldn’t help make things right for his little sister, Reid would gladly step in.
“Why were you crying, Lu?”