Bad Intentions (11 page)

Ryle knew he was a royal asshole. It wasn’t a fact that he even tried to deny. He almost wore the title proudly like a badge of honor. In fact, being a ruthless dick might have saved his life a time or two. The scars that lace his body and along his knuckles weren’t from his days on the baseball team. They were reminders of a nightmare that haunted him every single day.

What he wouldn’t do to erase his past—to live a life that didn’t involve being deprived of the many things that makes life worth living. A hot shower…a clean bed to rest your head a night…a warm, home-cooked meal. And true love—love that’s palpable.

Young Ryle hadn’t been given an escape from the shitty hand he’d been dealt. If there had, he’d have used it the first moment his junkie mother’s no good, doped up boyfriend had slugged him and gashed his eye.

His eyes had seen far too much danger for their age. Like the time he’d huddled in a corner of the closet, peering out into the bedroom where his mother lay lifeless for days. He’d been too scared to leave the sanctuary of the dark and face the truth that his only living relative lay dead in front of him.

His past was one that he’d try to keep buried. Ryle had become an expert at keeping his past—and his complicated emotions—under lock and key, but for some damn reason, Adaley made him feel something. His stone-cold heart began to melt when she was near, and because of that, he kept pushing her away and being cruel to her in hopes that she would get the fucking picture and leave him alone.

He couldn’t risk feeling. The moment that he allowed those gates to open—even just a little bit—the pain he’d kept in the darkest corners of his mind, gridlocked with the skeletons of his past, would suffocate him.

Adaley and what she made him feel were slowly smothering him. The only way he would survive was to turn his back and let his feet take him as far as his heart would allow. Distance was going to become his closest ally.

“T
ell me again what he did?” Zoe asks, trying to make sense of the scene I just laid out in front of her.

“For the third time,” I sigh. “He ran away. Like literally, he turned around and took off.” My shoulders sag as I lean against the back of my chair and gaze in Zoe’s direction with a bland half-smile.

“Well, I did try to warn—.” I hold my hand up to silence her. What I don’t need is an
I told you so
speech. What I do need is to work out some aggression. (a/k/a sexual frustration…)

“Wanna hit the gym? It’s twelve. I have to clock in by two.” I stand up and start to peel off my maxi dress without waiting to hear her response. I replace my outfit with a pair of black yoga pants and a bright green tank top.

I’m tying my first tennis shoe by the time she says, “I’m always down to see Kai—. Always down to work out,” Zoe corrects herself. I watch as her face turns white. She stares at me tongue-tied and embarrassed. Her ivory cheeks slowly turn a nice shade of cherry.

“Kaiser huh? He has that whole Ed Sheeran thing going on. Although he does have a couple feet on ole Ed. It’s kinda hot though. I get it. You want to stick to your own kind.” I shrug my shoulders as Zoe crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her wealth of red hair.

In a sour tone she says, “He’s mine. I call dibs on his sexy ginger self!”

I throw my hands up in the air and surrender. “He’s all yours. Trust me. I have my eye on someone else entirely.”

As if on cue, our bedroom door swings open. “And who might the lucky bastard be who has caught your attention?” Tank’s choice of vocabulary never ceases to amaze me.

“Like you have to ask?” Zoe chimes in, before she slides her shirt above her head.

Tank cringes at the sight of his sister’s bare back. “Eww.”

“We bathed together as children. Seriously get over yourself,” she barks, while she finishes changing.

“Your family dynamics are so screwed up,” I admit, only half joking.

Tank slaps me heartily on the back. “Nice subject change. So, back to who makes your little heart pitter-patter. Oh…wait. Let me guess.” He rubs the pad of his thumb on the bottom of his perfectly straight front teeth. “Ryle-mother-effin-Benson!” he shouts, like he’s a contestant on Family Feud.

My mouth falls open.

He’s dead on.

I grit my imperfect teeth together.

“Stop teasing her, Tank,” Zoe scolds, and shoos him out the door.

“I’m not teasing her. She’s my girl. I’m just stating the facts,” he says, leaning against our doorframe with one foot in the hallway and one still in our sanctuary.

Disgust now twists my mouth into a sneer. I haven’t even admitted to myself that I like him. Do I find him attractive? Do I want to hump his leg like a dog in heat? Did Hercules wear the hide of a lion? Yes!

The truth is a liar.

“Your sister has a crush on Kaiser.” I know it’s a low blow, but tossing Zoe under the bus is the only way to take the heat off me.

She squeals in horror as her secret is laid bare to the light of day. Tank cracks his knuckles like he’s about to find Kaiser and beat him to a pulp. “I gotta go,” he says tightly before turning to stalk away.

“You play dirty,” Zoe snaps, as she walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

Almost four minutes pass before she exits. I know, because I’ve been staring at my phone, ready to pretend like I’m texting someone. Obviously, I have no one to text, but I don’t want to face the fact that I’ve gone and made my friend mad at me. Actually, mad is an understatement. From the look on her face as I turn around in my chair to make eye contact, she’s more than a little irritated.

“That’s right, this is my pissed face.” Is she a Jedi mind reader? I’m momentarily taken aback at being called out. A fast movement startles me as Zoe shoots her pointer finger upward toward the side of her face. “Payback is normally a cold-hearted butch, but I’m going to let this one slide because I know you were embarrassed, and I’m sure that being the sheltered little bean that you were, you never had to live by girl code.”

“Butch?”

An exasperated huff slides out of her mouth. “Butch as in that was a butch—replace the u with an i—thing to do.”

Nodding, I reply. “Gotcha.” I swallow my pride with a gulp of air. “Look I’m sorry Z. I don’t know why I said it. You know what, actually I do. I’m going to be totally honest. Ryle gets under my skin. Just the insinuation that I like him, irks me. He’s like when you accidentally scrape your fork with your teeth. It’s the most unpleasant thing in the universe, and that’s basically how I feel about him. He’s unpleasant, but…I do feel something that pulls me toward him. It’s most likely his stellar face, because we both know it’s not his impressive people skills.”

“Like I said, I’m going to let this little slip of the lip slide. But,” she hesitates. “I’m going to have to install a chastity belt on your mouth if you ever tell another soul. Capisce?”

“Capisce.” I repeat.

We make it to the gym at twelve thirty, and it’s practically deserted. I crane my neck to look around, only to find a handful of people scattered here and there. Spotting a water fountain, I make my way over as I pull an empty pink bottle out of my gym bag to fill it with cold water.

Feeling the weight of someone’s arm drape over my shoulders, I tilt my head to the side. My nose collides with Tank’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, apologizing.

“You’re going to have to make it up to me.” My fingertips graze Tanks hand innocently.

“You drive a hard bargain, but I’m willing to do anything,” his voice changing pitch as he fakes desperation.

“Yeah. Yeah. Come on. Help me stretch.” I slide his hand off my shoulder and wrap my fingers with his. It may seem odd to some, but I already feel like Taylor is my brother. Am I mad that he called me out? Yup. But I’ll get over it.

“So what kind of stretching do you have in mind? As you can tell…” he says, as he waves both hands in front of his midsection. “I’m not that limber.”

“Don’t you stretch in practice?”

“Uh, duh.”

My head wags like a dog. “Uh, duh. Elaborate.”

“We do like, lunges and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Men are so vague. It’s a highly disappointing trait.

“Like rotator cuff and torso stretches.”

I place my hand on my hip. “So you don’t stretch your quads, hamstrings, calves, glutes or groin?”

Tank makes a disturbing face by scrunching his nose and showcasing what appears to be his imitation of duck lips.

“Physical therapy major,” I say by way of explanation.

He taps a finger on his forehead. “Makes sense. Now where were we?”

“Well, since you have something to make up to me, you’re going to help me stretch. Then I’ll decide if you’re forgiven or not.”

In a split second, he pulls apart the snap button on his athletic pants as he rips the cloth away from his body like a Chippendale dancer. The black and white lined material puddles on the floor around him. “Now where do you want me, Kitten?”

I roll my eyes and lie down on the mat, my back flat against the cool vinyl. One leg rests flat against the mat while I hold the other in the air. He looks at me apprehensively. “Go ahead.” I nod my head, giving him permission. He kneels on the mat in front of me and places both of his palms on the back of my leg and puts pressure on my hamstring. Gently, he pushes on my leg with a forward motion. I hold the stretch for a solid fifteen seconds before he slowly drops my leg and pushes up the other.

“This is totally giving me a boner.”

His admission causes me to roar with laughter. The sudden feeling that people are watching us causes me to mute my hyena-like cackling, but my core still shakes with amusement, totally out of my control. “You’re—.”

“Horny?”

“I was going to say a mess. But…eww.” I push his chest. My hand is met by more hardness than I was expecting.

“What? I workout.” He balls his fists together and silently pounds on his chest like a caveman.

Shaking my head, I push myself up off the mat and stretch an arm across my chest. I repeat the same movement with my other arm. Tank stands in front of me and mimics my movements with a smirk on this face. He knows he’s annoying, yet it’s cute. Once I’m sure my deltoid muscles are good, I move on to squats. We count together aloud until we reach fifty. I turn away from Tank and stand directly in front of the large mirror. Bending at my waist, I touch my toes, holding the position for a few seconds. A movement just off to the side catches my eye.

I’m torn between being ecstatic and infuriated to see Ryle sitting on a weight bench behind me. My feelings roll like a thundercloud where he’s concerned. I want to hate him because he’s cocky and arrogant, but the mystery surrounding him lures me helplessly.

I stay bent, looking between my legs, watching as he focuses on the dumbbell in his hand. He curls his bicep. There’s no strain in his lift. He’s strong. I can’t tell what he’s lifting, but I can imagine it’s a lot by the concentration and determination written across his face. His sex appeal spikes on my radar as I stand still, pathetically counting each set he completes.

My calves start to ache, causing me to break my line of vision with that perfect male specimen. Unconsciously, I chew on my bottom lip and stare into the mirror, looking past my shoulder. I keep moving my arms, pretending to work them out. Then I feel someone’s fingers moving across my puckered bottom lip. “What are you doing?” I shoot a glare to Tank who now stands in front of me, blocking my view in the mirror.

“Wiping the drool off your lip.”

Rolling my eyes, I snort and walk away, trying with all of my might not to look in Ryle’s
direction. I see Zoe running on a treadmill and make my way to her. “Where have you been?” I ask, before I set my bag on the ground and step onto a machine of my own.

“I’ve been on the treadmill for ten minutes. You might have noticed if you weren’t so distracted with
him
.”

She doesn’t have to mention his name. I know which
him
she’s referring to.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been gawking at Kaiser.” I smile and shoot a glance in his direction, which just so happens to be beside Ryle.

Caught like a deer in headlights. Smooth.

Kaiser nods his head at us. Ryle makes eye contact with me and breaks it just as quickly.