On His Turf Read Online Free PDF Page B

prick,” I say and Matty almost chokes on his coffee.
    “Well next time you see him you can tell him that I said he’s a fat-necked, jockstrap mouth breather.”
    “There won’t be a next time,” I say stubbornly and he gives me a sympathetic look.
    “Oh honey, if you actually believe that then you really don’t know men like him at all.”
    Thankfully his words give me the opening to change the subject and probe about his relationship gone badly. “And you know men? If that’s the case then tell me what happened with Kyle?” I counter.
    “Like I said last night we just weren’t a fit. There was no spark.”
    “You can’t lie to me - I’ve seen the two of you together and you’re nothing but spark,” I argue and he avoids my eyes.
    “Just drop it.”
    “Why?”
    “Drop it.”
    “Matty?” I try.
    “Look, he wanted to move in together, okay?” he shouts causing the booth across from us to look over. “He was pushing me too hard and things were moving too fast,” he adds, lowering his voice.
    “Oh, sweetie,” I say because there’s nothing else to say. Matty has so much love to give and he lights up every room he enters but when things get serious with a guy he runs to the hills. I’m sure it has something to do with his fear of being abandoned and I’m hardly one to preach about letting people in so instead I place my hand on top of his and duck my head so I can meet his eyes. We lock gazes and a silent communication passes between us before I pick my fork up and start digging into my eggs. Like I said, damaged goods, but at least there are two of us to carry the weight of all this baggage around.
    After brunch I hug Matty goodbye in the parking lot since he followed me to El Guapos with his car. I climb into my hatchback and wave as I drive off in the direction of the gym. I’m stuffed full of refried beans, eggs and guacamole and in desperate need of a treadmill to counteract the bloat.
    I arrive at the gym and swipe my card, then head into the locker room to change into my hot pink bra top and gray workout tights. I don’t love wearing such little clothing at the gym but the air conditioning barely works so the place always feels like a sauna. And while the bra top may be small it is firm support, which is a good thing because I don’t want one of these puppies getting loose and catching someone in the eye. Some people really have no idea how hard running and jumping can be with a substantial chest which is probably one of the reasons, other than money, that I shied away from organized sports. Thinking about sports makes me think about soccer which makes me think of Shane and thinking about Shane makes me just plain mad - and tingly - and mad that I’m tingly. I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy quite as cocky as him and while my head is telling me that I should hate him my body doesn’t seem to want to comply.
    I stuff my bag into a locker and head for the co-ed area where the best cardio equipment is. I slip my earbuds in a pick an up-tempo techno song before cranking up the treadmill for a nice mind clearing run. I’m so lost in the song that I only half-notice out of the corner of my eye when someone takes the machine next to mine. It’s not until a hand waves in front of my face and I almost lose my balance that I see who’s standing there.
    “Christ,” I shout, hitting the emergency button and jumping off to the side of the belt. I pluck out my headphones and the deep, throaty chuckle he releases hits me right below the belly button. Shane Mitchell, in all of his shirtless glory, is on the treadmill beside me.
    “What are you doing here?” I say accusingly as he runs effortlessly at full speed.
    “Working out.”
    He’s words come out even and it irks me that he’s not even a little bit out of breath.
    “Doesn’t the team have a gym?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
    “It does.”
    “Your building has one too. I saw it on Saturday when I was walking through the