Later, I’d go find that one Caroline mentioned.

  Hopefully it wouldn’t be too crowded.

  Chapter nine

  Iwalked through the doors of Mountain Fitness at 11 o’clock. It wasn’t too crowded.

  The space wasn’t very big or fancy, but it had everything I needed, and it was only $5 for a one-day drop in.

  I saw the squat rack was free, so I went straight for it.

  After the third set, as I was racking the bar, I noticed a girl looking at me in the mirror as she walked by.

  She was a pretty blonde with a ponytail. As soon as I met her eyes, she tossed her head, looking away as if I’d been ogling her or something.

  Pff, whatever, I thought. I only noticed you because you were looking at me.

  Later, after finishing some lunges, I caught her looking at me again. This time she just looked up and pretended to be focused on her shoulder press.

  That was when I recognized her.

  This was the real estate girl across the street. Amber McSomething?

  A bit later, when I was on the lat pulldown machine, I accidentally saw her again in the mirror.

  She was on the stairmaster machine now, her ponytail bouncing around wildly. Fit legs, delicate arms, perky breasts.

  Don’t look!

  Reaching up and gripping the bar, I pulled it down, squeezing my lat muscles, putting everything I had into the set.

  After that, I moved around to the seated row. But just as I finished my first set, another woman came to the pulldown machine on the opposite side, walking right into my line of view.

  Stretchy yoga pants revealed big, powerful thighs. And it was impossible not to notice the tantalizing amount of cleavage in her sports bra as she bent forward to adjust the weight.

  She had a short haircut with a shock of bangs falling across her forehead.

  For some reason, she reminded me of Caroline. Though she looked very different, they were around the same age, and this lady had her own particular kind of ‘mommy’ vibe.

  Her brown eyes met mine. They were pretty but sharp, like a no-nonsense school teacher keeping her eyes on misbehaving boys.

  It was the kind of gaze that turns a lot of men to stone.

  I kept my poise, unhurriedly taking up the bar for another set. One… Two… Three…

  I tried to focus on my reps, but it was hard because the lady settled directly in front of me. Our eyes met again for an instant. We both looked away.

  Four… Five… Six…

  She pulled the bar down and expertly executed her first rep with perfect form.

  Turning my gaze to the side, a mirror revealed that she was looking at me too, watching my form with a professional eye.

  Eight… Nine… Ten… Don’t get distracted. You’ve already got a date tomorrow night with one beautiful mature woman.

  My muscles were pumped at this point, veins popping out. I was feeling great. I squeezed out a final rep, and rose, brimming with adrenaline and hormones.

  I cast my eyes around for a curved barbell. I saw one guy sitting down with one on his knees as he stared at his phone.

  There had to be more. As I glanced around, a voice came from behind me.

  “Looking for something specific?”

  It was her. The woman from the lat machine.

  She strode towards me. There was something authoritative about her presence, with those huge breasts squished into that sports bra and her naturally robust, wide-hipped build.

  “Yeah, I was looking for the curl bar.” I demonstrated the motion of a barbell curl.

  “Ah. People didn’t put them away. Come on, let’s find one.” It was almost an order. This lady was definitely used to telling people what to do.

  Her walk was purposeful, athletic. The sports top left most of her back exposed — strong yet feminine. My eyes flicked down to her shapely ass, rounded out by squats, the line of her panties visible through the thin yoga pants.

  She stopped at the resistance machines and pointed. “There.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  “Need anything else, let me know. I’m the owner.”

  Her tone was clipped, almost dismissive, as if I was just another gym bro she had to deal with.

  I picked up the bar with one hand, meeting her gaze directly. “I’m Ryan.”

  Something softened in her expression as I held out my hand—that schoolmarm strictness wavering. “I’m Kate. Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

  I held her gaze as our hands connected. Her eyes widened for a moment, and a flush came into her cheeks.

  She looked down, almost shy, then gave me one quick glance as she turned away. There was a glimmer of interest in her eyes.

  She quickly recovered her commanding demeanor as she strode away.

  I knocked out my sets of curls, thinking about how I’d just cracked this matriarch’s tough exterior.

  Then I hopped on the treadmill and cranked it up to 10. My legs pumping, heart racing, it felt great to exert myself and blow off some of the tension that had been building up.

  By the time I finished, I’d worked up quite the appetite.

  Time to see what Sofia was cooking up at that restaurant of hers.

  Chapter ten

  The lunch rush was in full swing at Como en Casa. Construction workers and office people crowded the small space, their forks clinking against plates of rice, beans, and grilled meat.

  The only empty table was in a corner near the kitchen. As a waitress cleared dishes away, I watched Sofia working in the kitchen.

  She wore a white apron over a T-shirt and jeans, her face was made up prettily, and her hair tied back in a high ponytail.

  Her voice rose above the din as she gestured with her hands, speaking in Spanish. Her staff were all smiles, laughing and joking as they worked.

  She spotted me. “Ryan, you came! Welcome. Are you ready to eat some Colombian food?”

  She walked over and stood close to me, putting her hand on my shoulder as if I was a close relative.

  “I’m ready, but I have no idea what to try.”

  “Hmmm.” She drew in her bottom lip, narrowing her eyes. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “You should try Bandeja Paisa. You will like. Is very much.” She spread her hands out, as if showing the size of the plate.

  “Does it have meat?”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes! Lots of protein.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Okay! Bandeja paisa! I cook for you myself.”

  The food took some time, but it was worth the wait.

  Just the sight of it made me grin. Two types of sausage, finely ground beef, rice, and beans that were just beans — no added sugar or other garbage. A fresh avocado, fried plantain, and an egg to complete the picture.

  A great post-workout meal.

  I dove in, mixing the yolk with the rice and beans. Every bite hit the spot.

  Sofia watched from the kitchen. “How is it? You like?”

  “Love it!” I said with my mouth full, giving a thumbs up.

  “See? I told you!”

  Several men occasionally glanced at Sofia and me. I wasn’t sure if they were jealous of the attention I was getting, but I couldn’t blame them if they were.

  I was finishing the last bites of my meal when Sofia came over again, a look of satisfaction on her face. “You were so hungry! Doesn’t Carolina feed you?”

  I chuckled. “Oh, yeah, she feeds me very well.”

  She nudged my shoulder playfully. “Whose cooking do you like better? Mine, right?”

  “SOFIA! MI AMOR!” The annoying voice boomed through the restaurant, drawing everyone’s attention.

  A heavyset man in an expensive but ill-fitting suit pushed through the door. Gaudy rings sparkled on his stubby fingers, and the stink of his cologne invaded the entire restaurant.

  Sofia’s mouth tightened, and stress lines instantly appeared on her forehead. But she forced a smile, turning towards the man. “Hello, Mr. Benson.”

  His gimlety eyes narrowed as he noticed me. But then he looked at Sofia, peeling his lips back into a gross smile.

  “Come on, Sofia! How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Frank.” His tone was sort of like he was joking but had an edge I really didn’t like.

  Sofia backed away from my table and stood at the counter. The man strode in and planted himself beside her at the counter, much too close. He lowered his voice, but I was close enough to overhear him.

  “Have you thought more about our conversation?” he asked, leaning closer.

  “I already tell you no.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “The price is too high. Is impossible.”

  “Don’t be so hasty. I told you I’m willing to give you a deal.”

  He rested his elbow on the counter, placing his fat hand on the edge, pointing it towards her. “A smart business lady like you? We could work something out. Let’s have dinner tonight and discuss it. I’ll take you to Essence.”

  Essence? My lip curled even more. There’s a restaurant here called ‘Essence’?

  “What time do you close?” Benson continued. “I’ll pick you up.”

  “No, thank you. I—” He moved closer. Sofia took a step back, but his grubby fingers still managed to graze her arm.

  My jaw clenched. I wanted to trample those ring-covered fingers under my shoes.

  But I stayed in my seat, hands fisted under the table. This wasn’t the time or place, and he was already backing off.

  Sofia was clearly angry. She hissed, “Please, Mr. Benson. I’m busy.”

  “Always working! That’s your problem.” He gave a theatrical sigh, looking around the restaurant. “Too bad. This little business has potential. But you won’t get a better offer in this market. I’m going to let you think about it some more. I think you’ll come around.”

  He finally turned and shambled out, dragging his stinky cologne smell along with him.

  Sofia stood there for a moment, taking slow breaths. The whole restaurant seemed to exhale with her.

  She noticed my empty plate and came over, her usual warmth returning to her face, though her eyes were still troubled. “Everything was good?”

  “It was perfect. But, Sofia, who was that guy? Sorry, I know it’s none of my business, but…”

  She glanced around, then leaned on the back of the chair beside me. “Mr. Benson buys a lot of properties in town.”

  I nodded. “And he owns the place you want to buy?”

  “Yes.” She pulled out the chair and sat down, resting her hands in her lap. “My restaurant is popular, but is too small. When it gets busy, I lose customers.”

  “Yes, I can see that. You can’t grow your business without a bigger place.”

  “Exactly. More space means more tables. And already I find the perfect place.”

  She threw her head back, gazing dreamily at the wall. “The location is perfect. Big windows. A lot of space. I really like it. But… Mr. Benson is asking a crazy price. Like three times what it’s really worth.”

  “Why is he asking so much?”

  “Because of gentrification. You know?”

  “Of course. Is that happening here?”

  “Is starting. Everyone thinks big developers and companies will come soon. So he’s waiting.”

  “That’s really frustrating. And the new restaurants are just going to be pretentious overpriced places with crappy food.”

  “Exactly!” She dropped her hand on my wrist, talking rapidly. “But is worse! I was gonna buy his place before he buy it. But then he offered more than the price they were asking.”

  I shook my head. “He pulled the rug from under your feet.”

  She sat back in her chair, making a sour face. “And now, he keeps trying to…” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “Never mind. I should get back to the kitchen.” But she didn’t move to get up.

  “He keeps trying what?”

  “To get me to have dinner with him so we can ‘talk’ about a deal. He trying to take advantage of me. Is disgusting.”

  “That’s infuriating,” I said, thinking about Benson’s revolting presence. “You don’t deserve this.”

  She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “No! I don’t deserve it.” She stood, smoothing her apron. “Sorry to tell you all my problems.”

  “No, it’s fine. If you ever want to talk about it more…” I held her gaze meaningfully. She might have been passionate and hard working, but she needed someone strong in her corner. We both knew it.

  She touched my shoulder. “You’re sweet.”

  “Not that sweet,” I said in a low voice. “When he touched you, I wanted to break his fingers.”

  “Ayyy, noooo!” She pressed her hands to her chest in mock horror, but her eyes darkened with interest. “Machismo is no good.”

  Her hand returned to my shoulder, fingers trailing lightly as she moved to pick up my plate with her free hand.

  She tossed her ponytail and murmured, “Anyway, you can’t fight. You have to stay handsome for Carolina. Don’t you have a date tomorrow night?”

  I looked at her. “Wow, word travels fast. You heard about that, huh?”

  “Yes, I did.” She pinched my chin with her free hand. “So no more talk about fighting, guapo.”

  I watched her hips sway as she walked back to the kitchen, then forced myself to look away.

  Caroline and Sofia must be really close friends, I thought, if they’re sharing details about their love lives with each other.

  I leaned back in my chair. Between breakfast with Caroline, Kate at the gym, and Sofia feeding me —Today was turning out to be fun.

  I couldn’t wait to see Caroline this evening. She’d be going out with her friends, but we could still flirt for a bit before she left.

  I planned to give her just the right kind of attention to keep her thinking about me all evening.

  Chapter eleven

  Ispent a couple hours on Caroline’s back porch, accompanying the young Henry VIII through his Latin studies and jousting lessons.

  Then I explored Robertson Park, following the winding trail along the river. I spotted a red-tailed hawk watching from the branches.

  When I got back, the late afternoon shadows were stretching across the street. My pulse picked up when I saw Caroline’s car in the driveway.

  The smell of cooking drew me to the kitchen. Caroline was at the stove, wearing a flowing summer dress that swirled around her thighs, ending well above her knees.

  As she leaned forward to stir a pot, the thin material settled against her bottom.

  She turned, smiling. “Hi. I’m just making a quick dinner before I go out. Are you hungry?”

  “I am,” I said, making an effort to keep my eyes on her face. Her breasts sat heavily beneath the fabric of her dress. “What are you cooking?”

  “Pasta. I hope that’s okay, hun? I need to leave in about half an hour.”

  She turned back to the stove, reaching for the salt. The dress rode up her thighs.

  “Pasta’s perfect,” I murmured, moving closer to the stove. “Can I help?”

  “You can get me the colander. It’s in that cabinet.” She stirred her sauce with the wooden spoon, watching it bubble with a little smile on her lips.

  I reached past her to open the cabinet door. She shifted to let me reach, but her hip somehow brushed against me.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, taking the colander. Our fingers touched as she slowly took it from my hand.

  “You smell good,” I murmured.

  “Thanks.”

  We were standing so close, but neither of us moved away. My hand rested on the counter, inches from her stomach.

  My muscles tightened, and I felt my heart beating against my chest. I was itching to touch her.

  But Caroline suddenly turned to face me, one hand on her hip. “By the way, someone sure seems to like my cookies! You’ve eaten almost all of them.”

  She stood with her chest out, and her impressive bust was straining against the dress. Her nipples had hardened, and they were poking against the material, pointing at me bossily.

  I was like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Did I eat that many?” I smirked, meeting her gaze. “Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t have pigged out like that.”

  She turned back to the stove, but I could see the amused smile on her lips. “Guess I’m going to have to make you another batch,” she sighed, shaking her head.

  I moved a little closer, still smirking.

  Should I say it? Maybe it’s too silly. Who cares? Just say it!

  “Okay, mommy,” I murmured, putting my arm around her shoulder.

  She let out a shriek, her mouth dropping open. “Ryan, no!” She gave me a pleading look. “Is… is that really how you see me? I mean, I know I am old enough to be your mom, but… Are you saying I’m an old maid already?”

  “Not a maid—a mommy,” I joked, my arm still around her. “My sweet North Carolina mommy who bakes me cookies.”

  She threw her head back laughing as I pulled her closer. Her soft body comfortably nestled against mine.

  I kissed her cheek, and her laughter abruptly fell silent. I could feel her chest rising and falling as she started breathing deeply.

  I kissed her again, this time holding my lips against the softness of her cheek.

  The wooden spoon sat forgotten in the pot. I turned her towards me. Her body was so yielding in my arms.

  I pressed my lips against her forehead, and my hand caressed her back, moving down to her waist.

  Then, gently, I touched my lips against hers. We kissed softly at first, then with growing intensity. She melted against me. My hands wandered over her back, then took hold of her hips, kneading her flesh through the dress.

  She shook suddenly, a tremor running through her body. Her hands clutched at my shirt, but there was something almost desperate in her grip. Her breath came in short gasps.

  I pulled back slightly, remembering it had been seventeen years since she’d been with anyone.

  “Hey.” I brushed her hair back from her face. “Your sauce is going to burn.”

  “Oh!” She turned back to the stove, her hands trembling with the wooden spoon. I kept my hand on her waist, keeping her steady.