“HELLO.” I APPROACHED THE FRONT DESK of Hunter-Bailey, seeing the attendant’s head pop up. “I saw online that you have a fencing club, and I was wondering if you have open bouting nights.”
He pinched his eyebrows together, looking confused. “Excuse me?”
I shifted uncomfortably. Hunter-Bailey was reputed to have one of the most active fencing clubs in the state with private lessons and a large area for group workouts. It was also the only location in the city to offer fencing.
The facility was a little more intense than the Thunder Bay Rec Center that I was used to, though. Massive area rugs adorned the hardwood floors, while dark wood made up the stairs and all of the furniture. The upholstery was kept to dark tones like forest green, black, and midnight blue, and the place was old, dark, and very male. I’d also noticed the fancy marble dome ceiling and stained glass windows when I’d walked in.
“Fencing,” I clarified, looking at the young man dressed in a suit. “I’m looking for a club. I’ll purchase a membership if I need to.”
I really didn’t need classes. I’d been studying nearly my entire life. But I would love a chance to connect with other fencers, pair up for practice bouts, and make some friends.
But the guy was looking at me like I was speaking in Japanese.
“Rika,” a deep voice called, and I twisted my head, seeing Michael walk across the foyer from the front doors.
What was he doing here?
He approached me, wearing loose jeans and a navy blue T-shirt, everything he wore always accentuating his chest, arms, and height. A gym bag hung off his shoulder with a black sweater draped over it.
“What do you want?” His sharp tone bit.
I opened my mouth. “I…um—”
“You know this young woman, Mr. Crist?” the clerk asked, chiming in.
Michael stared at me, looking none too pleased with running into me, either. “Yes.”
The clerk cleared his throat. “Well, she’s interested in joining our fencing club, sir.”
The corner of Michael’s mouth quirked in a grin, and he nodded at the clerk. “I’ll take care of it.”
I watched the clerk disappear into the back, leaving us alone in the quiet area, distant voices from the closed doors behind me drifting through.
I gripped the strap of my satchel lying across my chest. “I didn’t know you fenced.”
“What makes you think I fence?”
I looked around, indicating where we were. “Well, you’re in a fencing club.”
“No,” he drawled out, looking amused. “I‘m in a gentlemen’s club.”
A gentlemen’s club. Like a strip club?
But looking around, I didn’t see anything that gave the indication that there were pole dancers, private rooms, or lap dances being performed here.
Hunter Bailey was pristine, elegant, and old, like a museum where you were told to be quiet and not touch anything.
I shook my head, befuddled. “I’m lost. What do you mean?”
He let out a sigh, tipping his chin down and looking at me like his patience was wearing thin. “This is Hunter-Bailey, an exclusive men’s club, Rika,” he explained. “A place where guys go to work out, swim, steam, drink, and bullshit away from all the people that bug the shit out of them.”
Bug the shit out of them?
“Like women?” I guessed.
He just stared at me, holding the strap of his bag with his head slightly cocked.
“So…” I looked around and then back to him, “women aren’t actually allowed in here then?”
“Nope.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s completely ridiculous.”
No wonder the clerk had looked at me so funny. Why didn’t they post a sign outside saying No Women Allowed then?
But…I guessed that would probably just make women want to come in more.
Michael stepped up to me. “When women get to enjoy Ladies Night Out specials or their own private workout area at a gym, it’s okay, but when a guy wants their own space, it’s archaic?”
I held his hazel eyes, the golden amber in them taunting and playing with me like a cat with a mouse. He had a point, and he knew it. It was okay for men to want their own space. No harm. No foul.
But it aggravated me that they offered something I enjoyed and I was shut out.
I shrugged. “I just wanted to fence, and this town is limited as far as facilities go, so...”
“So I’m sorry more women don’t take an interest for you to have your own club,” he replied flatly, sounding not the least bit sorry. “Now it’s raining outside. Do you need a ride back to Delcour?”
I dropped my gaze, noticing the small, dark splotches on his shoulders. The rain must’ve started right after I’d stepped inside.
I shook my head, seeing very clearly that he was trying to get rid of me.
“Fine.” He veered around me to the wooden double doors, and I took a step, ready to leave. But then I spotted a tweed ivy cap sitting on a stack of antique books on top of a curio cabinet.