Chapter One

" E x cuse me?"

The towels Jace Galano had just pulled from the dryer and neatly folded nearly tumbled from his hands. The single wireless earbud he was wearing hit his shoulder, bounced, and tumbled under the rack of hand weights.

"Sorry to startle you. I just wanted one of those towels."

The floor-to-ceiling mirror that wrapped around the room reflected a god behind him. Jace's lips parted as he stared unblinkingly into eyes the color of whiskey. On top of the stranger's head was the messiest chestnut-colored man-bun Jace had ever seen, loose strands clinging to the guy's sweaty neck and face.

Jace tried to talk, but no words came out, just a strange noise between a gasp and a hiccup. His fingers clutched the towels harder as he swallowed repeatedly, wondering if his brain would come back online anytime soon.

"Towel?" A thick, shapely eyebrow rose upward as a smile tugged at the side of the god's perfect lips.

"Towel! Yes!" Heat burst across Jace's face at his loud reply. He'd shouted those two words at the guy like an idiot who had no control over the volume of his voice.

A few people near them looked their way, curious expressions on their faces. Jace saw Owen was strutting toward him from across the gym with a cocky walk. His supervisor didn't look happy.

What else is new?

The god reached out and plucked a towel off the stack Jace was still clutching for dear life, drawing the fabric down his Adonis face and over his neck. Jace's eyes greedily followed every move. He was barely breathing. He'd gone from rapid blinking to his eyelids frozen in place.

"Jace," Owen said when he finally reached them. "What the hell? Why were you shouting at Mr. Grant?"

"Ian," Mr. Grant corrected. "There's no problem. I just startled poor Jace."

The god had said his name. He'd acknowledged Jace and was defending him. Looking up into Ian's eyes, Jace noticed how freaking tall the man was. Six-three or six-four? Jace's skills at guessing someone's height or age were nonexistent.

All he knew was that he was five-seven and the top of his head only reached Ian's shoulders. The guy's pecs were right in Jace's view, although they were covered by a sleeveless Under Armour shirt. The fabric clung to his sweaty body, revealing a six-pack Jace was dying to touch.

Ian's manly smell was short-circuiting Jace's brain. Taking a step back, Jace lowered to his knees, keeping the towels tucked to his chest. He reached under the rack, feeling around for his earbud.

Owen's eyes were on Jace. He could feel them burning into his back as his fingers finally curled around the earbud and pulled it free.

"He's new here," Owen explained to Ian. "Jace isn't a people person. He was hired to clean the locker rooms and do other stuff that doesn't require him to interact with our members."

Owen spoke as if Jace wasn't right there, like he was a robot with no feelings, his only programming to clean and wash sweaty towels. His people skills might have been lacking, but that didn't mean his supervisor had to talk about him that way.

Ian rested the towel around his neck, gripping each end like the towel would somehow fall if he didn't hold it in place.

"You're not supposed to talk to the members," Owen said to Jace like the jerk was chastising a small kid for playing ball in the house.

Jace wanted to take the towel from around Ian's neck and wrap it around Owen's throat. Ever since Jace had been hired, Owen had been nothing but condescending toward him.

Jace wasn't an idiot. He just had a hard time talking to people. Owen was too thickheaded to distinguish between the two. The guy spent his days checking himself out in the mirrors and sucking in his gut, which had seen one too many treats from Sweet Spot. Owen never used the equipment in the gym. He just peacocked around the female members.

"Chill," Ian said to Owen. "Jace hasn't done anything wrong."

"Yeah, sure." Owen's smile said he really didn't care and had only said something to make it look like he was doing his job. "I gotta get back to gym stuff. The place isn't going to run itself." He laughed as if he found himself funny.

Owen didn't even own Jungle Fitness, not to mention he was the least funny person on the planet.

Crisis averted, Jace walked to the locker rooms and placed the towels on a rack next to the row of showers. When his phone buzzed, he pulled it from his pocket and saw it was his mom. He'd asked her a million times not to call him at work. Luckily, Owen wasn't around or he would get on Jace's ass about personal calls during work hours.

Because Owen stayed off his phone. Right. His phone resided against his ear so often it should have become an appendage on the side of his head.

"You shouldn't call me at work," he whispered as if Owen would be able to hear him.

"I'm sorry," his mom said.

"What do you need?" He peered toward the door to make sure Owen wasn't walking in. Too often his supervisor had snuck up on Jace when he was busy working just to look over his shoulder. He thought of Owen as the dust inspector or just an all-around pain in his ass.

"I wanted to know what time you got off work," she replied.

"My schedule is on the fridge, Mom."

Jace's heart thumped a little harder when Ian walked into the locker room. Ian yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it onto a nearby wooden bench. Most of the members had a great body, but Ian's was amazing.

For some reason, a powerful feline came to mind as Jace's gaze slid over the guy's bronze physique, noticing how Ian's shorts hugged his lean hips.

Now Jace was bordering on creepy, so he ripped his eyes away and gave Ian his back.

"Oh, you get off at four. Perfect! Stop by the grocery store and pick up—"

"Just text me your list. In fact, next time just send me a message if you need to me to… If you need anything. I told you I'm not allowed on my phone while I'm at work."

One of the showers turned on.

"Don't tell me you called Jace," his grandmother said in the background. "Sweet Jesus, Myla. Leave that boy alone. You're gonna get him fired."

His mom sighed. "I'll text you the list. Make sure you come straight home afterward so I can get dinner started."

"I will."

"Stop pestering me, Inez," his mom said. "I had to make sure he would stop by the store."

He hung up. Those two would go back and forth for the next ten minutes, and he'd already risked getting caught. He loved them both but wished his mom wouldn't call him at work.

After grabbing his cleaning cart from the locked utility closet, Jace began to clean the locker room, ignoring the fact that Ian was naked in the shower, soap suds sliding down his wet body.

Not going to think about that. Jace shoved his earbud back into his ear and turned on his music. At least he was allowed to jam while he worked, which was a bonus.

As the music played, he scrubbed the unoccupied showers, but no matter how hard he tried, thoughts of a soaped-up Ian kept sliding into his mind. His fingers itched to shampoo the man's long hair, to scrub his lean back, and to drop to his knees to worship Ian's cock.

What in the hell was wrong with him? Jace had been nothing but professional since starting his job, ignoring the naked men entering or exiting the showers or simply changing their clothes.

Distance. That's what was needed. He pushed his cart over to the lockers and wiped them down, completely focused on what he was doing when he felt a presence next to him.

Ian stood at his locker, completely naked as water trickled down his body. The dust cloth in Jace's hand dropped to the floor. Ian was towel drying his hair, but nothing was around his waist.

Nothing.

Not a scrap of cloth to hide his manhood or ass. Which was perfectly sculpted. Toned, muscled, and lip-bitingly round.

A loud groan escaped Jace. Ian looked him over as he rubbed that towel over his damp hair, the strands darker from the water.

Jace spun, ready to grab a towel for Ian, but he crashed into his cart. His face collided with the handle of the mop and poked his eye. As Jace shouted and his eye throbbed, he'd lost his footing, and he was going down.

A strong arm curled around his waist and yanked him backward. Jace's back hit a solid wall of muscle. His eye was watering as he realized that Ian's bare cock was pressed into him.

"Are you okay?" Ian's voice was deep and close to Jace's ear. His bicep flexed. His arm grew tighter. The masculine fragrance of Ian's bodywash punched Jace's senses and made him drool.

Ian turned Jace around and lowered him onto the bench. A slight pounding started in the back of his skull. Not now! Jace had suffered from migraines since the car accident that had claimed his dad's life. For eight years, he'd battled them. There was never a good time for his migraines to grip him, but right now would be the worst.

"Let me take a look."

Clearly unashamed of his nudity, Ian crouched and examined Jace's eye. "How bad does it hurt?"

"It stings, and my eye won't stop watering." Fighting against his oncoming headache, Jace curled his fingers around the edge of the bench and glanced down. Enormous mistake. Even soft, Ian's dick was an impressive size.

"I don't see any damage," Ian said. "I think the handle hit your eyelid instead of your eye. Your skin isn't even red, so I don't think you'll have any bruising."

Two men walked in then stopped when they glanced Jace's way. This had to look bad.

If either guy said anything to Owen about a naked man crouched in front of Jace, there was no telling what the jerk would do. From day one it had been obvious that Owen didn't like him, although Jace had no clue why.

As if sensing Jace's discomfort, Ian used the towel he'd dried his hair with to curl around his waist.

"Everything okay?" the man on the right asked.

"Yeah." Ian helped Jace to his feet. So far, the headache had remained mild. "He got whacked in the eye with the mop handle. Aside from watering, his eye looks to be okay."

The men walked to the showers as though the matter was resolved. This was not turning out to be Jace's morning. "I need to get back to cleaning."

Ian tilted his head to the side and drew in a deep breath. He chewed on the side of his mouth as his gaze swept over Jace. What was that intense look about? Why was Ian studying him so hard?

The locker room door slammed open, causing Jace to jump out of his skin.

"There you are!" Owen chucked a thumb over his shoulder. "Some sweaty guy leaned against the mirrors and left huge smear stains that need cleaned. Get your stuff and make that gross shit disappear."

A peculiar noise rumbled in Ian's chest. It sounded like an animalist snarl. Weird. Jace parked his cart by the utility closet. With glass cleaner and rags in hand, he hurried out of the locker room.

It took him a few minutes to find where the smears were located. Owen had acted like an entire body was outlined on one section of the mirrors. There were four smudges no bigger than the size of a hand.

What a drama king.

In a few swipes, the glass was sparkling. Jace might as well do the mirrors in the locker room since he had the cleaner already in his hand.

"Nothing but pigs," Owen grumbled as he passed Jace in the hall.

What did the guy expect? People sweated during their workout. Things were touched. Owen was in the wrong line of work if perspiration upset him.

By the time Jace returned, Ian was dressed in a pair of loose-fitting jogging pants and a thin, sleeveless hoodie. His legs apart, Ian stood in front of his open locker and brushed out his long hair. Someone would have to poke out Jace's eyes to stop him from staring—which literally almost happened. A few strands of damp hair clung to the side of Ian's neck, the rest falling past his shoulders with each stroke of the brush.

How did his hair have so much volume without using a blow dryer? Some people just had all the luck. Jace's hair only reached his neck, but he still needed to use a dryer and styling gel to make it look even halfway decent.

Before Ian realized he was being creeped on, Jace headed to the mirrors. He was so into what he was doing that he didn't see Ian approach until he heard the voice.

"Are you free for dinner?" Ian asked from behind him.

Jace glanced in the mirror. Ian was standing so close that all it would take was a single step backward and their bodies would touch. No one had a right to look that damn good. Some higher power had decided to torture Jace by dangling such a sinfully gorgeous man in front of him.

"Did you hear me over your music?" Ian's playful grin slayed him.

The music wasn't on. "Pardon?"

"Dinner." Ian moved to the side and leaned a hip against the long counter. He crossed his arms, making his biceps even larger. "Should I have asked first if you're interested in men?" His sweeping gaze scorched Jace. "If you are, I would love to have dinner, kitten."

"With m-me?"

"No, with your reflection." The even whiteness of Ian's smile was more sparkling than the mirrors.

Jace swallowed hard, his heart trying to pound through his breastbone as he struggled to think.

"I have…" Jace's thoughts floundered. "I have to go to the grocery store for my mom when I get off of work at four. She's supposed to text me a list of what she wants."

There were touches of humor around Ian's mouth and near his eyes. "I like that you run errands for your mom, but I'm not sure if you're saying yes or no to my invitation."

"Why do you want to have dinner with me?" Jace clutched the bottle of glass cleaner then set the bottle and rags on the counter.

"I'd like to get to know you better." Ian placed a palm next to the rags, tucking his other hand into the front pocket of his pants.

When the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen asked to take you to dinner, sparks didn't ignite. Insecurities did. And so did a hell of a lot of panic.

"Would you prefer to have coffee instead?"

Jace found himself asking without realizing the question had even formed. "What time?"

"Are we having dinner or coffee?" Ian asked amusingly.

"Dinner." Jace didn't want to tell his mom he was going on a date. She would make a big fuss about it, and since he wasn't sure if this would lead to anything, he would prefer to avoid her enthusiasm.

But he had to tell her something since she was making dinner at home.

"Take my number." Ian pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Jace did the same and rattled off his phone number. His phone rang then stopped. "Now you have mine."

Jace wanted to snap a picture of Ian so he'd have a face to go with the new contact, but was too shy to ask if he could.

"Does six work for you?" Ian tucked his phone away. "That'll give you enough time to run your errands and make it to Deep Dish on time."

"Jace, are you done in here yet?" Owen hollered when he walked cockily into the locker room. "There're clear signs that say to wipe down the equipment after use, but some people act like they can't read. Go clean off the weight benches." He stopped midstride and glanced between Ian and Jace. A flare of annoyance flashed in his eyes. "I thought you were a quiet mouse. Whatever. You're not getting paid to stand around talking."

That strange animalistic rumble vibrated in Ian's chest again.

Owen tapped his bare wrist. "You have an hour before your shift ends. I suggest you get your work done, or you'll have to stay over. You won't get paid overtime since you'll be making up for goofing off."

If Jace didn't need this job, he'd quit. The owner had seemed laidback and good-natured. Why on earth would Zeke hire someone as insufferable and arrogant as Owen? Every time the guy opened his mouth, Jace wanted to shove his cleaning rags inside to shut him up.

Jace hurried away, determined to finish his work before it was time to clock out.