I drop onto the bench next to him. “What’s up?”
He shrugs with a small shake of his head. “Damned if I know. There’s this new girl at work that has me twisted around backwards, and I can’t seem to untangle myself.”
“So, don’t. You’re not seeing anyone else, right? So what’s the hang up?”
He grins. “I’m seeing plenty of people.”
Branson Silo is seriously ripped and a hell of a lot better looking than me. He was three years ahead of me and his sister at Oak Crest High, then spent five years in the Marines, three of them on two tours in Afghanistan. He came home to Oak Crest last fall all dark and brooding…which means that the ladies can’t resist him. He gets his share of action tending bar. That I know. But I’ve never seen any of them get under his skin.
He stands and runs the towel dangling around his neck over his dark buzz cut. “There’s just shit with this one I don’t want to step in. But she’s making it tough—fucking with my head.”
I give him my best shit-eating grin. “Thought you used to blow shit up for a living. Wouldn’ta thunk a girl could rattle your cage, but whatever.”
He chucks his towel at me. “Blow me, Leon.”
“Sorry, dude, not really my thing.” I throw it back at him. “But thanks for asking.”
He cuts me a look, then drops onto the bench for another set. “I’m going to complain to the management. Thought you were only here harassing people in the mornings.”
“Need some cash, so your sister gave me a few extra shifts,” I say, shrugging it off. “Can’t keep crashing on your couch forever.”
“Damn straight,” he says just as the bells on the door chime.
Deanna comes sauntering through in a purple sports bra and black leggings. Her blond hair is pulled up in a tight ponytail and she looks ridiculously hot, instantly catching Bran’s attention.
He racks the barbell and sits up. “Now that’s something I’d like to tap. Pretty sure she could make me forget all about my problem at work.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s my date.” I watch her cross the room to the lockers on the wall and stow her bag. “We’re getting drinks after work,” I say, turning to Bran, “so I’ll look for that problem of yours at the bar. What does she look like?”
“A younger version of that,” he answers with a nudge of his chin at Deanna.
I feel my eyebrows go up as I cringe. “Ouch.”
He drops back onto the bench and grasps the bar. “Tell me about it, bro.”
I check in with the other clients as Deanna makes her way to the treadmill and starts running. When I got here for my first night shift on Wednesday, she was just leaving, so I know her normal routine is to come in right after school. I’m sure she’s here late because she’s expecting that date.
I swing by her treadmill on my way back to the desk. “Looks like you were right about Friday nights,” I say with a gesture at the nearly empty gym.
A suggestive smile curls the corners of her mouth. “I’m right about a lot of things.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Deanna’s the first girl I’ve slept with since I’ve been back in my hometown. Something about shitting where you eat, I guess. She came on pretty strong the night we met at Sam Hill and I let her take me home. I thought we both got that this was just a hookup. But she’s started expecting things, like that she was invited to Blaire’s wedding. I need to put the brakes on this—or at least make sure we’re both on the same page. I’m just trying to find the best way to do it.
“I should be able to close up by ten,” I say. I’ll talk to her at Sam Hill…get it straightened out. “Does that work for you?”
She nods. “That will give me time to finish up and shower.”
“Great,” I say, backing toward the desk. I drop into the desk chair in front of the laptop and pull up the bookmark for the TeachAmerica.com job database. I plug in my password and scan my profile for any matches. Nothing. Not even in Nebraska. Though, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t really take a job in Nebraska.
Maybe.
I glance up at Deanna again, hating her a little. There had to be something in Texas she was qualified for, so why the hell did she have to come here and steal my job? It’s not like there’s a whole lot of draw to Oak Crest…especially for someone young and single. No nightlife, except for the Sam Hill Saloon. No culture. The nearest movie theater is a forty minute drive. No one in their right mind would want to live here.
But here she is.
I spend the next hour, when I’m not spotting or setting weights, scrolling through a few more databases. I come up just as empty.
It’s eight thirty when the door to the studio out back opens and Brenda comes to the desk. She waves to her clients as they trickle past on their way to the door, wishing each a good weekend. When she looks down at the desktop screen she scowls. “Inappropriate use of company resources. I’m docking your check.”