Retta shook her head. “No, that’s okay.” She turned to her employees. “There’s no space. I think I’ll head home.”
“Are you sure?” Philippa asked the woman behind the counter.
“It’s fine. Next time we’ll plan better. Have fun, okay?” Retta said. Though she was disappointed, she was also a bit grateful she wouldn’t have to experience to what extent her sports bra was unsuitable for boxing.
But as that thought crossed her mind, Duncan rounded the corner. She’d literally come to the gym expecting to catch a glimpse of him, but nevertheless her stomach flipped when she spotted him.
When he saw her, he stopped dead in his tracks despite walking and talking with someone else. Their eyes met, and he smiled at her before regarding her from head to toe. Every nerve ending in her body fired off as she looked away to temper down suspicion from her team. She didn’t want to answer questions the following day.
“Bakers’ night out?” Duncan asked as he came to stand next to her.
The side of his body brushed up against hers, and it took everything in her not to react like she’d touched a hot plate.
“Yeah, thought we should take advantage of such a reputable place,” Omar said.
With his dimple on full display, Duncan said, “Smart. You’re here for the six o’clock class?”
They nodded.
“You’ll enjoy it. Trevor is a great trainer.”
Philippa perked up at the mention of Trevor’s name. It was the first time she stopped methodically scanning the foyer for signs of him.
“Well, since it’s your first class here, and I have a bit of time, I can show you how to wrap your hands. You’ll be ready to go,” he said.
“I’m actually not joining them today,” Retta said as her team members all revealed the wraps they’d been given.
Duncan turned his gaze on her. “Why not?”
“I didn’t book ahead of time,” she explained.
He nodded and walked over to the front desk.
“Oh, he’s about to hook you up,” Philippa whispered as they watched Duncan talk to the woman behind the counter.
“You’re in,” Duncan said, rejoining the group. “We typically see one to two no-shows, so it should be fine.”
Retta’s heart soared, but not because she was going to get to work out with her crew.
“Okay, let’s get this hand wrapping tutorial started,” Duncan said, moving them off to the side, away from the door and welcoming mat.
For the entire demonstration, he spoke confidently and repeated where it was needed. After checking each person’s final product, Duncan gave them the go-ahead to make their way down to the gym. Retta was the last one he approached.
“How’s it going?” he asked, almost whispering the question.
She pressed her glasses firmly on her face. “I think they’re okay.” She offered her hands for inspection.
“This one’s too tight,” he said, narrowing the distance between their bodies. “You’ll lose feeling.”
She clumsily unraveled the wrap before he took hold of her freed arm. As he slowly moved the material around her hand, she became aware of her own heartbeat. It was loud and persistent, and the longer they stood there, the more restless she became.
“Don’t mind the calluses,” she said in hopes of distracting him from the rapid pulse in her wrist.
Flipping her hand so her palm faced upward, Duncan studied the rough patches where her digits and palm met. He gently ran his thumb over them.
“What are they from?” he asked, resuming his hand wrapping.
“Work,” she explained.
