Read Online The Proposition (The Plus One Chronicles) by Jennifer Lyon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Lyon
Ads: Link
visceral effect on her.
Gathering her courage, she grabbed her phone off the coffee table, and before she lost her flash of bravery, she scrolled down to Sloane’s number. It was getting close to nine p.m. so she probably wouldn’t hear back from him tonight, but that was okay. She typed a text. Not exactly ready, but willing to try a self-defense lesson and see how it goes. She hit send.
Maybe she wouldn’t have to face David alone at the party. She might have a plus-one after all.
***
Late Sunday afternoon was usually a thin crowd at the gym. Sloane had just returned from a quick Vegas trip to talk to promoters about a fight next year. While he was there, he’d checked out a couple potential sites to build another gym.
Back home now, he’d chosen the SLAM gym closest to where Kat lived for her first self-defense lesson. He went in, carrying his gym bag, and headed for the locker room. After changing into shorts and a T-shirt, Sloane stored his clothes then checked his phone.
Nothing from Kat. He wondered if she was going to show. He knew what she was doing, testing the waters with a self-defense lesson. Trying to gage if she could trust him.
It’d been a hell of a long time since he’d gone to this much trouble for any woman. But then Kat was different. Normally, his plus-ones were society women who enjoyed being seen with him and the luxuries he could afford. It was all effortless on his part.
Kat sparked something in him, besides lust, that he hadn’t felt in a long time—she was a challenge.
He walked out of the locker room and went over into the heavy-weight area toward the back.
“Sloane.”
“Vengeance.”
“Michaels.”
The guys greeted him by his various names. Vengeance had been his fighting moniker. In seconds, Sloane automatically shifted into training mode. Everything else slid away.
Most of the cardio equipment was upstairs, but he got on a downstairs treadmill used for quick warm-ups or circuit training. He walked for a minute, then broke into a steady jog. He was only warming up, so five or ten minutes would do it. In the meantime, he studied the parts of the gym visible from where he was. Clean, and equipment appeared in good working order. Trainers were on the floor, watching and guiding.
He turned to Ethan finishing his stretches. Sloane had hired Ethan Hunt as his driver and put him in his guesthouse. It was all part of his agreement to sponsor Ethan’s training with some personal attention. But that meant the kid had to be available when Sloane had time. And he had needed a job. Working as Sloane’s driver was a good solution.
John Moreno came over.
Without breaking his stride on the treadmill, Sloane nodded a greeting.
“Saw Drake today. Hospital said they’ve done all they can. He needs hospice.” John leaned against the wall next to where Sloane ran.
Fuck. There was no place he could go to escape the pain of Drake’s cancer. Keeping his gait loose and even, his breathing regular, he looked at John. “The specialist I had review his case this week said the same thing. Assholes.” Like they would let one of theirs go to an institution and rot away. He didn’t give a shit how good hospice was supposed to be—in his view it was still a fucking place to die, not live surrounded by the people who belonged to you.
“So? Your place or mine?” John asked. “He’s welcome to come live with me, Sherry and the kids.”
Sloane knew John meant it, but he rejected the offer. “My place. Drake likes the ocean. I’ll have Ethan hire nurses and whatever else he needs.”
“Tell you what, let Sherry do that. She loves Drake. She’ll make the arrangements.” John glanced over at Ethan as he started the circuit of training on today’s agenda. “He’s a good kid, got potential.”
Slowing to a walk now that his muscles were warmed, he pulled one arm over his head and began stretching. “He’s got the heart of a fighter. That’s why I hired you to train him.”
Gathering her courage, she grabbed her phone off the coffee table, and before she lost her flash of bravery, she scrolled down to Sloane’s number. It was getting close to nine p.m. so she probably wouldn’t hear back from him tonight, but that was okay. She typed a text. Not exactly ready, but willing to try a self-defense lesson and see how it goes. She hit send.
Maybe she wouldn’t have to face David alone at the party. She might have a plus-one after all.
***
Late Sunday afternoon was usually a thin crowd at the gym. Sloane had just returned from a quick Vegas trip to talk to promoters about a fight next year. While he was there, he’d checked out a couple potential sites to build another gym.
Back home now, he’d chosen the SLAM gym closest to where Kat lived for her first self-defense lesson. He went in, carrying his gym bag, and headed for the locker room. After changing into shorts and a T-shirt, Sloane stored his clothes then checked his phone.
Nothing from Kat. He wondered if she was going to show. He knew what she was doing, testing the waters with a self-defense lesson. Trying to gage if she could trust him.
It’d been a hell of a long time since he’d gone to this much trouble for any woman. But then Kat was different. Normally, his plus-ones were society women who enjoyed being seen with him and the luxuries he could afford. It was all effortless on his part.
Kat sparked something in him, besides lust, that he hadn’t felt in a long time—she was a challenge.
He walked out of the locker room and went over into the heavy-weight area toward the back.
“Sloane.”
“Vengeance.”
“Michaels.”
The guys greeted him by his various names. Vengeance had been his fighting moniker. In seconds, Sloane automatically shifted into training mode. Everything else slid away.
Most of the cardio equipment was upstairs, but he got on a downstairs treadmill used for quick warm-ups or circuit training. He walked for a minute, then broke into a steady jog. He was only warming up, so five or ten minutes would do it. In the meantime, he studied the parts of the gym visible from where he was. Clean, and equipment appeared in good working order. Trainers were on the floor, watching and guiding.
He turned to Ethan finishing his stretches. Sloane had hired Ethan Hunt as his driver and put him in his guesthouse. It was all part of his agreement to sponsor Ethan’s training with some personal attention. But that meant the kid had to be available when Sloane had time. And he had needed a job. Working as Sloane’s driver was a good solution.
John Moreno came over.
Without breaking his stride on the treadmill, Sloane nodded a greeting.
“Saw Drake today. Hospital said they’ve done all they can. He needs hospice.” John leaned against the wall next to where Sloane ran.
Fuck. There was no place he could go to escape the pain of Drake’s cancer. Keeping his gait loose and even, his breathing regular, he looked at John. “The specialist I had review his case this week said the same thing. Assholes.” Like they would let one of theirs go to an institution and rot away. He didn’t give a shit how good hospice was supposed to be—in his view it was still a fucking place to die, not live surrounded by the people who belonged to you.
“So? Your place or mine?” John asked. “He’s welcome to come live with me, Sherry and the kids.”
Sloane knew John meant it, but he rejected the offer. “My place. Drake likes the ocean. I’ll have Ethan hire nurses and whatever else he needs.”
“Tell you what, let Sherry do that. She loves Drake. She’ll make the arrangements.” John glanced over at Ethan as he started the circuit of training on today’s agenda. “He’s a good kid, got potential.”
Slowing to a walk now that his muscles were warmed, he pulled one arm over his head and began stretching. “He’s got the heart of a fighter. That’s why I hired you to train him.”
Similar Books
