5. Ever

5

Ever

Tracy had meant it when he called his gym no-frills. Half of the old warehouse housed a boxing ring and some related training equipment, while the other half contained free weights, a couple of weight machines, and a small row of bikes and treadmills for cardio. There were also a few medicine balls and resistance bands scattered around, but that was about it.

I took off my jacket and stuck it in my gym bag, feeling out of place in my red, form-fitting shorts and tank top. Only six people were using the equipment, and they were all dressed like Tracy in baggy sweats. This wasn't a place people went to socialize. It was about getting in a solid workout, nothing more.

Suddenly, a young, totally jacked blond guy burst out of the office and yelled, "Holy crap, you're Ever Daley!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at us, which clearly embarrassed Tracy. When the blond reached us, he vigorously shook my hand and gushed, "It's an honor, Mr. Daley, truly. I'm Steve, the assistant manager. My friends are never going to believe I met you! We're all huge fans."

I flashed him a smile. "Call me Ever, and they'll believe it if we take a selfie together."

Steve blurted, "Dude, are you serious? You don't know what this means to me!"

Tracy took a step back when I pulled out my phone. I turned around so the boxing ring was in the background, and Steve put his arm around my shoulders. After I snapped a photo, I started to type a caption and asked, "What's your Insta, so I can tag you?"

I could almost feel Tracy rolling his eyes as the guy told me, "It's gym bro Steve-o one-one-seven."

"Awesome. And what's the name of this place?"

"It's called Howard's. You can tag us at boxer Pete H SF, all one word. My boss is going to be so stoked!"

As I posted the photo, I asked, "Pete Howard owns this place?"

Steve's eyes went wide. "You've heard of him?"

"Sure. He gave the welterweight champion a real run for his money a few years back."

"Dude, I've got to call Pete so he can get down here and meet you! This'll make his entire year."

"I'd love to meet him too, but there's no hurry. I'll be back, so Pete should come in whenever it's convenient for him. Which reminds me, I'd like to buy a month-to-month membership."

Tracy started to offer me his free guest pass, but Steve cut him off with, "No need, Mr. Daley. We'll comp your membership."

"I'm happy to pay." The place looked like it needed every dime it could get.

Steve shook his head. "The free publicity from tagging us is more than enough."

"In that case, I'll do one more post featuring the gym. Do you mind if I go around and snap a few photos?"

"Go right ahead. I'll give our regulars a heads up, so they know what's going on."

We went over to the part of the gym dedicated to weight training, where everyone was congregated. "Hey, all," Steve called, "sorry to interrupt, but I want to introduce you to Ever Daley. A lot of you probably recognize him. He's a top fitness influencer, and a personal trainer to the stars. This is the guy who whipped Jeff Judge into shape for that superhero franchise! He's doing us a solid by promoting our gym on social media, and he's going to be taking some photos."

I added, "If you don't want to be in the pictures, raise your hand and I'll be sure not to include you." Tracy's hand shot up, but he was the only one who opted out.

Steve and I chatted for another minute, until a ringing land line sent him running for the office. I did a slow lap around the gym with my phone, snapping photos while watching Tracy out of the corner of my eye. He stashed his stuff in the locker room and began his workout routine, but he glanced at me now and then. He probably thought I was the most ridiculous person he'd ever met.

I didn't know why that bothered me.

I also didn't understand how he could look so sexy. He needed a shave, his dark hair was disheveled, and he was wearing a baggy, gray T-shirt and sweatpants that had seen better days. Even so, he was undeniably appealing.

Besides the fact that he was a handsome guy, maybe part of the appeal was that he seemed refreshingly genuine. It was pretty obvious that what you saw was what you got with Tracy, and that he had no interest in impressing anyone or trying to come across as anything other than exactly who he was.

Maybe my perception was warped after all those years living in Hollywood and working with actors and models. In fact, it definitely was. But from my perspective, a guy that down-to-earth was something special.

Why was I thinking about this now, though? I needed to finish up and begin my workout. I went to the far side of the gym, past the boxing ring, and took a photo of a wall full of promotional flyers for boxing events—layer upon layer, built up over the years. They were faded, torn, and curling with age, but I thought there was a certain kind of beauty to them.

No wonder Tracy worked out here. It came across the same way he did, as authentic and completely unpretentious.

He'd probably hate everything about the gym I was building. I wanted it to be pristine, beautiful, and luxurious—a place not just to get a great workout, but to see and be seen. Actually, scratch the word "probably." He'd hate it for sure.

Finally, I put away my phone and pieced together a workout with the available equipment. This wasn't a bad set-up. I'd gotten used to flash and technology, but there was a lot to be said for good, old-fashioned iron and grit.

After a while, I glanced over at Tracy, who was doing a set of bicep curls. He'd been working hard, and his T-shirt was drenched in sweat. It was hard to tell in those baggy clothes, but his form didn't look quite right, so I went over to him and asked, "Would you mind if I made a suggestion?"

"Go ahead."

"You need to adjust your stance and engage your core a little more. Right now, there's a slight tilt to your hips, so you're probably feeling some strain in your lower back."

"I am, actually."

"Can I touch you?" When he nodded, I placed one hand on his abdomen and the other on his back. As I applied gentle pressure to his gut, I said, "Tighten up here and shift your hips forward."

When he turned his head, I found myself looking directly into his soulful brown eyes. Usually, I towered over everyone, but I only had about an inch on Tracy. It was rare to literally see eye-to-eye with someone.

His body shifted slightly between my hands. "Like this?"

Being this close to him was distracting, and I forgot what we were doing for a moment before I snapped myself out of it. I was being unprofessional—not that he was a client, but I still held myself to a certain standard. As I let go of him and took a step back, I murmured, "I think so." Then I grinned and tugged his sleeve. "It's hard to tell under all this fabric, though. That's why a lot of people opt for form-fitting workout gear. It's also why a lot of gyms have mirrors everywhere, so we can check our form and adjust if necessary."

Tracy smirked, and a teasing note slipped into his voice. "Plus, both of those things make for good selfies."

"True. How does your lower back feel?"

"Better. You obviously know what you're talking about."

"I do. I'd be happy to work with you to fine-tune your routine and help you work toward some fitness goals, if that's something you'd be interested in."

"I'm pretty sure I can't afford you."

"I wouldn't charge you, Tracy. It's my way of saying thank you for letting me totally invade your home."

He mulled that over for a moment, the set of weights in his hands temporarily forgotten. Finally, he gave me a single nod. "I'll take you up on that, because I know my routine could do with a tune-up. But I'm not wearing spandex."

He was being playful with that last comment, so I decided to come back with a little flirtatiousness in return. "You'd look damn good in it, though."

The way he instantly got flustered was pretty cute.

When we finished our workouts, Tracy wiped the sweat from his face with a small towel and retrieved his backpack from the locker room. Then he started to head for the door, so I asked, "Aren't you going to hit the showers?"

"I'm not done yet. I usually run home for some additional cardio."

"Sounds good." I slung my gym bag over my shoulder, and when we got outside, I flashed him a smile. "Want to race?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

Tracy glanced at me as he stretched his hamstrings. "Because I'm willing to bet you're highly competitive. I am, too. The loser might end up resenting the winner, and that's no good." He had a point.

We kept pace with each other on the way home. Then, when we reached the apartment, we went off in opposite directions to shower and get ready for the day ahead.

Once I was clean and dressed, I moved into the living room and checked in with my contractor. I'd been about to head over to my building, but he'd set up a meeting with the two of us and our electrician in the late afternoon. There was no point in going early and hanging around the job site for hours on end. I'd only be in the way.

A few minutes later, Tracy came into the room. He was clean-shaven and neatly groomed, and he was wearing another gray T-shirt. This one was newer and better-fitting than the one he'd worn to the gym, and he'd paired it with jeans instead of sweats.

Since there was a jacket draped over his arm, I asked, "Are you on your way to work?"

He nodded and handed me a slip of paper. "That's Darwin's number and the website for the shelter, in case you want to look into volunteering."

"Thanks. Have you seen Phil?"

"Yeah, he's on my bed."

"Sorry about that. I'll go get him."

"No, it's fine. I left my door open, so he can come and go whenever he wants to."

"Will you be home for dinner? I'm planning to make this awesome, super healthy lentil stew with loads of veggies, and there'll be more than enough for two."

"Thanks for the offer, but I won't get home until about ten-thirty. My current schedule is four ten-hour days, Monday through Thursday."

"Got it. I'll see you later, then."

I felt disappointed as I watched him leave the apartment. It would have been nice to spend some time with him, not just because he was the only person I knew in this city. I was curious about Tracy and wanted to get to know him—or try to, anyway, which might not be easy. My first impression of him was that he was friendly but guarded.

Actually, no—it wasn't my first impression. That had happened back in February.

It was hard to believe this was the same man who'd exchanged some deliciously filthy texts with me before showing up in my hotel room, full of fire and passion. Even though our encounter had totally fallen apart, it had started out great. The way he'd put himself in my hands was a huge turn-on. Our kiss sent jolts of electricity through me, and it was absolute nirvana when he started sucking my cock.

Then I'd sneezed.

I cringed as I recalled the chain reaction that followed. At the end of it, he literally ran for the door. I should have stopped him. But at the time, I'd been pretty thoroughly rattled, and he'd probably been mortified. What an absolute disaster.

The next day, I'd tried calling him, but he'd blocked my number and disappeared from the hookup app. I got the message loud and clear—he wanted to put that night behind him and never see me again.

Now, nine months later, here we were. I would have chalked it up to fate, if I believed in that kind of thing.

It was tempting to start something with Tracy, or at least finish what we'd started. But what then? What if we totally clicked and wanted to start dating? Pretty soon, my fitness center was going to demand every bit of my focus and energy. How could I maintain a relationship while working sixteen-hour days, seven days a week? Back in L.A., my employees used to say I was married to my job, and this new business venture was going to be even more time-consuming than my last one.

Maybe it was best if Tracy and I built a friendship instead. That was probably all he wanted anyway. Sure, I was attracted to him, but I could resist temptation… right?