My Remedy (Open Door Love Story Book 3) (10 page)

“Yes. Soon.”

Duncan waits for the call to end before he pulls out of the parking lot.

I turn the music on the radio louder, knowing what we get up to when we have to fill the not-even-that uncomfortable silence.

Duncan chuckles and reaches over, taking my hand in his.

He’s still holding it when he parks in the driveway behind my aunt’s car. I can see her peeking out the window just like I was earlier this evening.

“I had...” I start, wondering if I need to give him an out. Wondering if he’s regretting what happened, but being a nice guy about it.

“I really like spending time with you,” Duncan says.

I nod and pull my hand away from his. “Right, but this is a slippery slope neither of us should be climbing.”

He grabs my hand again. “You know, it might be easier to climb a slippery slope with another person.”

My breath hitches and then I lean over and give him a hurried kiss before he can change his mind. “I’ll let you lead the way.”

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I
finish watering and feeding the dogs and then run into the house to grab my gym bag. Duncan is still in the training yard, working with Gunda and her police officer, Jefferson.

“Plotz,” Duncan says, lowering his hand until Gunda obeys and lies down.

“Good girl,” Jefferson coos and slips the German shepherd a treat.

“Great work today,” Duncan says. “And remember to tell your colleagues that I’m serious about the gym discount. My brother gives reduced memberships to military, law enforcement, and firefighters. Gotta keep all of our protectors in good shape.”

“I’ll spread the word, man. Thanks.” Jefferson walks Gunda out of the training yard, nodding to me as they pass, and then loads her into his cruiser.

“Seems like she’s coming along,” I say.

“For sure. They’ve got a good sense of each other.” He leans in a gives me a kiss. “Like we do.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, but I think you just compared me to a dog.”

He growls.

~

“S
ome of you all might remember Duncan’s friend Izzy from the Free W.O.D at the beginning of the month,” Sasha says, while leading us in some simple stretches.

The 9 am ladies – Lorilee, Janna, and Gaby all smile at me and say hey.

Another woman their age, Monisha, waves. “I missed that day, but I’ve heard all about you. Welcome.”

“Izzy completed On Ramp yesterday,” Duncan says. “She’s officially official.”

Everyone claps and I get a rush of nausea. Not the reaction I expected to feel, but I’m a little nervous about being in a class again and failing in front of people besides Duncan and Hector. Not that I think the 9 am ladies will judge me.

We finish our warm-up and move on to the W.O.D. We’re doing something called thrusters, which turn out to be a clean that goes directly into an overhead press. Basically, we bring the bar up in front of us partway, then we go down into a squat, and then we stand, pushing the bar overhead. I’ve never done it and sweat pops out on my brow thinking about how bad this is going to be.

“Soooooo, I’m thinking you’re going to need a modification,” Sasha says, grinning. “I’m going to have you do the same movements, but with ten pound dumbbells instead.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Excellent. I was scared shitless for a second there.”

“Yeah. I could tell.” She points to the white board. “You good with everything else?”

I read the W.O.D. over. It’s a ten minute AMRAP of thrusters, sit-ups, and a 400 meter row. “I’m good.”

Duncan has already set up my AbMat and dumbbells for me, and there are as many rowers as people in class, so I’m ready to go. My first officially official W.O.D.

“Ready in ten seconds,” Sasha says, getting to the side of the room. The clock counts down and another wave of nausea hits me, but I will it away.

After the final buzzer sounds, I sit on my rower, trying to catch my breath. That was hard. Everyone is laid out and breathing heavy. I stand up to go outside and get some fresh air and I have to sit back down, I’m so light-headed.

“You okay, Iz?” Duncan asks, bringing me my water bottle.

I take a hearty swig. “I’ll be okay. I should’ve eaten breakfast. That was dumb.”

“Agreed.” He swipes a sweaty lock of hair out of my eyes. “You gotta take care of yourself and eat, woman.”

Cera peeks her head into the door and when she sees that the W.O.D. is over, comes all the way in.

“I thought you might want to see what I finally got over the weekend,” she says, yanking down the collar of her shirt and exposing her shoulder ... and half of her boob.

The tattoo that I sketched for her turned out even better than I expected. “That looks awesome! I guess your tattoo artist was sober this time around?”

She smiles and then her expression becomes concerned. “Whoa. You are really pale.” She puts her hand on my forehead. “And clammy.”

“Izzy didn’t eat breakfast and then did a bunch of CrossFitty things,” Duncan explains.

“Way to go,” Cera says, and then bends over and whispers. “I can make you a grilled cheese at the bar if you want.”

I shake my head. The thought of all that oil on the griddle at Ringo’s turns my stomach. “I’ll be fine. I just need to sit here a second longer and then down a protein bar.”

“Are you sure it’s that?” Cera asks and then elbows Duncan. “You haven’t knocked her up already, have you?”

“No!” we say in unison.

Cera laughs. “Touchy subject. Jeez.”

It is a touchy subject, because we haven’t even done it yet. When you start off with a first kiss that was way more than a kiss and you plan on trying to have an actual relationship with someone, I’ve discovered you have to back up and start over. Or at least that’s what we decided three-ish weeks ago. I’m not the only one with a history of backroom hookups and one-nighters. Duncan has never been much of a relationship guy, but he swears he hasn’t really been a player either. More, he just hadn’t gotten serious with anyone.

I can’t say the same. I used to always want the guys I slept with to love me and want to be my boyfriend. The accident that left Gabe Riley paralyzed sure cured me of that notion.

“Hey, Cera, what’s up with you showing off your goods to my brother and his girlfriend and not letting me in on that?”

“Hector, you’re such a gentleman. Seriously.” She rolls her eyes, but then she goes over to the counter to show Hector her tattoo.

“I think something is going on with them,” Duncan says, leaving me to ponder that realization while he grabs a protein bar from his gym bag.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if there was something going on. Cera’s cool and Hector ... is Duncan’s brother. Okay, okay, I’m warming up to him some. It’s not for me to say if Cera’s into the machismo thing. For all I know, Hector could be a real sweetheart underneath all the euphemisms and innuendoes.

Duncan hands me a vanilla protein bar. “Sorry, we ate all the chocolate ones.”

I tear into the bar, not caring that it mostly tastes like sweetened cardboard. We’ve been trying to eat cleaner and consume less carbs, which has resulted in the both of us eating protein bars like they were candy.

“Whoa, remind me to never let you skip breakfast again,” Duncan says, when I’ve finished the bar in three bites.

I smile and hand him the wrapper.

He stuffs it in his pocket. “Want to work on pull-ups today before we head to the meeting? If you’re going to compete at Takedown in September, you’re going to have to be solid on pull-ups and have at least one Muscle-up.”

I get to my feet slowly, and this time I’m not light-headed. “Sounds good.”

Duncan tosses a purple band – there are these giant rubber bands we use for stretching and also to help with pull-ups, they come in various colors and widths – over the top of my favorite pull-up bar and loops it through itself into a knot.

I grab a box from over by the wall and place it to the right of the band. I’ve almost got pull-ups without a band, I just need the slightest bit of help – truthfully, it might all be in my head and I’m using the band as a security blanket.

Up on the box, I pull the loop of the band down and put my right foot in it. I position my hands on the bar and then hang from it, straightening out my leg in the band. I swing my legs out to get some momentum going and then pull myself up until my chin is over the bar. I lower myself down and then do it again. My goal is to do this ten times in a row, but I have to quit after seven.

“You’re getting much better. You just need to work on your kipping more.”

Kipping is the motion you do to get the momentum to swing up.

Duncan jumps and takes hold of the bar next to me. “I think you’re relying on your legs too much. It’s all in the shoulders.” He demonstrates, bringing his shoulders forward and then pushing them back a couple of times to get going before he pulls himself up. He drops from the bar. “Try again and I’ll pay more attention to your form this time. I may have been focused on checking out your ass for the last five minutes.”

“Way to go, coach,” I say, although technically he’s not really coaching me anymore. Our contractual obligations have concluded, so it’s perfectly fine for him to admit to checking out my ass boyfriend-style.

“Hey, you two,” Hector says, walking around the counter. “I’m going to run to the bank. I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. Please, please be careful and don’t do anything crazy. Duncan, if you leave, lock up, okay?”

“Sure. Bye,” Duncan says.

“See ya later,” I say.

Hector leaves.

“I wonder where he’s really going?” Duncan asks. “He didn’t take the deposit bag with him.”

I look out the door. “And he’s getting into Cera’s car. What are the chances she also needed to go to the bank?”

Duncan sighs. “Whatever. I just hope he doesn’t act like a dick and screw her over.”

I lower myself down and get ready to do another pull up. I start doing what my body thinks is kipping and Duncan chews his bottom lip, analyzing me.

“What?” I ask.

He tosses his head from side to side, deciding. “Let’s lose the band. It’s a crutch you don’t need and it may be messing you up.”

I get back on the box and take the band off my foot and push it over to the side of the bar by the post. I lower myself and immediately push down with my foot like it’s still in the band.

“Stop thaaaaaat,” Duncan teases. He stands behind me and puts his hands on my shoulder blades. “Push forward.” I do. “Pull back.” I do, surprised that this gets my body moving. I still want to use my legs – like pumping to get a swing going. “Stick your feet together. See if that helps you focus on your shoulders.” I press the insides of my feet together and continue the motion with my shoulders. “One,” Duncan counts. “Two. Now up on thr—”

I pull myself up, my chin farther over the bar than I’ve ever gone before. An ecstatic smile spreads out across my mouth. And then I crack the bottom of my chin on the bar, see stars, and let go.

Duncan is still behind me, he grabs hold of my hips and I slide down in his grip. His left hand shoots forward and braces against my chest to keep me from falling on my face.

“Ouuuuuuuch,” I whine, and then start giggling because Duncan is basically hunched over me with one hand on my butt and one on my boob. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it coach?”

Duncan squeezes my boob twice. “No, but all’s well that ends well.”

I turn in his embrace, lifting my head. “How is this well?”

He kisses the underneath of my chin lightly. “Weller?”

I shake my head no. He moves both of his hands down and grabs my ass while he kisses my chin, my neck, my collarbone, back up to my jawline, over to my mouth.

“Weller?”

“Yes,” I say, closing my eyes and turning my face so that my lips are next in line to be kissed.

The alarm on Duncan’s phone goes off, alerting us that it’s time to go to the noon meeting.

Duncan presses his forehead to mine and I open my eyes.

“What if,” Duncan says, his voice husky, “we skip the meeting. Just this one time.”

I smile. “Do I have pull up bar sex in my future?”

“Sex, yes, but not here, okay?”

I nod. “Lead the way.”

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I
’ve been to Duncan’s apartment a handful of times, mostly for him to take a quick shower and change his clothes before we went to a meeting. It isn’t anything special, just your standard one-bedroom apartment in one of the bazillion complexes in Beaverton, but he keeps it clean and tidy and I appreciate that. So many times I’ve been at a guy’s house and wanted to just, you know, wash off my face or get a drink of water and they don’t even have a towel that isn’t also doubling as a bathmat, or a clean Solo cup for me to use. Duncan has two large towels, a hand towel, a bathmat, and an entire set of dishes and glasses – enough for six people – and they are put away in the crumb-free cupboards.

So, I know, as we walk up the stairs to his place on the second floor, that I don’t have to worry about that. And I sort of love him for it. I feel wanted and taken care of. Duncan makes me worry less. He’s better than blasting music, or taking a drink, and then another, and then five more. He’s that two-drink tipsy warmth where I’m relaxed, but still in control.

Duncan unlocks the door and sets his gym bag to the left by the wall and takes his shoes off and puts them on the rack to the right. I put my shoes on the rack too and then we stand there in our sock feet grinning goofily at one another.

“We should shower,” Duncan says, tucking his chin and smelling himself. “I’d like to at least start off clean before we get all sweaty again.”

“Oh yeah?” I say, trying to be coy. I tuck my chin, wince because it’s for sure bruised to hell, and then smell myself. Ripe. “Oh. Yeah.”

Duncan takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. He turns on the water and we peel our sweaty workout clothes off.

I start pulling my sports bra over my head and it rolls up, getting stuck under my arms. “Um, I’m completely mortified because I usually go through this process in the privacy of my own home, but I’m either going to have to contort my body into several unattractive positions or you’re going to have to help me take this bra off.”