Dances with Monsters(7)

"And it doesn't hurt he's got a gorgeous face and an amazing body, I'm sure," Bunz added dryly. Even if everyone wasn't an MMA fan, Heath Riley was a hometown celebrity for sure. Everyone knew what he looked like and how he'd risen to notoriety.

Drew finally allowed herself a tiny smile. "No," she conceded. "That doesn't hurt at all."

***

Drew hopped off the train around seven-fifteen that evening, making sure her long, dark chocolate brown hair was tucked tightly under her fitted Yankees cap before pulling the hood of her sweatshirt up. She wrapped her hands as she walked along the street toward the gym, her stomach tensing and knotting as it always did.

So far, as far as she could tell anyway, she'd managed to fly under the radar at Carter's. She'd definitely gotten a few looks here and there but she kept to herself and minded her own business. She knew that in and of itself set her apart from the gym's clientele; they were obviously a family-oriented bunch and the guys all got to be friendly with each other. A couple had even approached her before but she'd just walked away before they could engage her in real conversation and discover her little secret. Not to mention, turning away was easier than dealing with it head-on. The only men she was comfortable around were her brothers and her father, her uncles. Family, essentially. Dealing with men on any other level was difficult for her, which was why she'd insisted on taking register/barista duties at the café as it would force her to re-engage with people, with men. And it was why she went to Carter's religiously almost every single night.

At the café, it was easier. It was a friendly, family atmosphere. It was relaxed, laid back—people just wanted their coffee and pastries and that was that. Many of the men that frequented the café were regulars, and she was mostly comfortable, if still a bit wary, with them. The gym was totally different. It was nothing but men, and she had no one to protect her but herself. It was an atmosphere of violence, although there was a sign in the window and the contract clearly stated that any and all fighting would take place in the ring, and that Carter's Gym would not tolerate any other violence of any sort, for any reason. But the testosterone was thick, so heavy she could practically smell it, and there was always a sense of danger there. These men were tough, hard, strong. These weren't prissy pencil-necks; they were here to train and be trained by the best, and they sparred intensely. She'd never seen the ring free of bloodstains before leaving for the night. There were always handfuls of guys walking around with lumped up, cut faces.

She'd had boxing training before. She'd done it recreationally before the incident and pursued it heavily afterward. She didn't want to compete, she didn't want to spar unless it was for training purposes. She wanted to learn how to defend herself effectively and not be afraid to fight. She'd had a personal trainer in New York, but when the family picked up and left for Pittsburgh, she'd had to say goodbye. Now, she knew she'd benefit from a trainer, but right now she was content to observe the best at work, mimic their movements, join together what she watched them do with her own training and develop herself.

And, as she peeked around the bag she'd been working on for the last hour, glancing from under the brim of her baseball hat, the best was currently at work in the ring.

Heath Riley was shaking out his hands at his sides in the ring, facing off against his sparring partner. She watched as his lifted his fists into a guard position, almost casually, and focus intensely on his opponent. She knew this wouldn't be anything like Ultimate Warrior—he wouldn't be handing out any "one-hitter quitters" tonight. He was in it for the duel, the enjoyment. The dance.

She tilted her head and watched his feet. He moved with incredibly quick, confident movements. He landed a kick, leaping past his doubled-over opponent, then with a quick shuffle of his feet switched his direction, casually yanking up a pant leg as he resumed his guard position. She shook her head to herself. The guy was a beast, but there was something so lithe, so sure, almost graceful about his movements that made him so interesting to watch.

He was grinning at his partner, who hand just landed a jab to the chin. It was clear he was enjoying the moment. Drew had watched him at Ultimate Warrior and she recalled how he'd always looked so grim, the hatred practically radiating off him as he would charge his opponents, take them down, then burst out of the ring and stalk out of the arena in rage. Now, it was like night and day; he was smiling, laughing a little, and his handsome face looked peaceful and calm.

She'd never really looked him in the face before, not in person although the opportunity presented itself every single time she left the gym after closing. He would always be standing by the door, toothpick in his mouth, hands in his pockets, waiting patiently for her to finish up. She would always keep her head down and brush right past him. Once, when she'd been wearing her headphones, she thought she'd heard him yell out her name, but she hadn't been about to blow her own cover by stopping to reply, and instead, had ignored him, rushing past. But the curiosity at what he, Heath Riley, would have to say to her, a nobody, always picked at her. Did he know her secret? Was he annoyed she stayed past closing, keeping him there too? Had she missed some hidden fee? He hadn't tried to speak to her again, and that occurrence had taken place a couple weeks ago. She studied his face, taking in the symmetry of his face, his unbelievably full lips, his steely blue eyes. She knew from seeing him on TV that he was a very good-looking guy, but now, seeing him in person although not up close, she could tell that the camera hadn't done him any justice. Her eyes slipped lower and for a moment, she indulged herself by taking in his heavily muscled torso, shoulders and arms, littered in a variety of black tattoos. She studied the ridges of his abdomen, his well-developed pectoral muscles, his thick lats, his strong, defined arms. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he could sweep the floor of the gym with every guy in it.