Chapter 4

December 15th

2:05 p.m.

Back in the gym again for my second workout of the week, my eyes swung in Ryan's direction the moment I entered the room. As I crossed over to the free weights area, I watched him in the boxing ring with a pretty girl with dark hair in a swinging ponytail, who was jabbing at the pads he was holding up. He paid me no attention, and why would he?

Their laughter taunted me. Her hand went to his arm, causing him to smile down at her as she stared up at him with wide eyes. In the short time I'd been coming here, I'd noticed that he was careful to keep things professional with his clients, but his genuine, warm nature was a draw to everyone he came into contact with. Combine that with his looks, and it was no surprise that he attracted everyone's attention.

My third set of dumbbell curls completed, my gaze was drawn in his direction. Again.

This time, though?

He was looking at me.

Those gorgeous hazel eyes were unreadable. Lifting a hand, he brushed his tousled brown hair out of his eyes, still holding my gaze. The girl he'd been training had disappeared, and he was alone.

Making a snap decision, I replaced my weights on the rack and stepped towards him. This was stupid—we needed to get past this awkwardness and at least be civil.

"Ryan." I came to a stop in front of him. His mouth thinned, but he didn't acknowledge me. "Ryan, please."

"What do you want, Sam?" His voice was low and hoarse.

"Do you have time for a quick drink later?" Swallowing hard, I forced the rest of the words out before I lost my nerve. "I'd like to clear the air between us."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Turning from me, he began gathering up the equipment he'd been using to train his client.

"Please?" I tried again. "All I'm asking for is fifteen minutes of your time."

He was silent for so long that I was sure he'd refuse, but he eventually shrugged. "I guess so." His voice was flat, and I couldn't get a read on him. "I finish at six. Meet me at The George."

Then, he spun on his heel and left me staring after him, my heart racing.

We needed to clear the air, at least. And this time, I'd do my best not to fuck it all up.

* * *

6:45 p.m.

Sitting in a corner of the darkened pub in a little booth, I clasped my pint glass, taking a large gulp to steady my nerves. The warped, slightly opaque glass of the windows, the rustic wooden beams and sloping floors, combined with the Christmas lights and decorations draped around the space, gave the interior a cosy charm. Not cosy enough to reduce the tension holding me stiff in the wooden booth, though.

Catching my reflection in my phone screen as I picked it up, I ran a hand through my dark hair, unsuccessfully attempting to tamp it down.

Fuck. I needed to pull myself together. Taking another large swig of my pint, I reminded myself that the worst he could do was walk out on me. But he'd agreed to meet me, so that had to be a sign that he was at least prepared to hear me out.

My spine prickled with awareness, and I raised my head.

"Alright." Ryan slid into the booth across from me, his eyes focused on the worn wooden surface of the table rather than on me. His greeting was casual, but everything about his posture was stiff and closed off.

My mind went blank in the face of his apparent hostility. "Drink?" I offered, finishing up the last of my pint.

"I can get my own." He still didn't look at me.

"No, I've got it. I forced you to come here, anyway." Before he had a chance to disagree again, I stood, sliding out of the booth. "What can I get you?"

"IPA, I guess. Whatever they have on tap." His gaze flicked to mine briefly before returning to the table, and I might have been imagining it, but it looked as if his expression softened incrementally. "Thanks."

Giving him a nod, I made my way over to the bar and placed our orders. When I returned to the table, he was still holding himself stiffly, his mouth set in a flat line. Once I'd set his drink down in front of him, I took a seat and cleared my throat, running my finger over the condensation on the side of my glass. Ryan remained silent and still.

Since things were already awkward as fuck, I figured I might as well go for it. "Uh. The drink. It's a festive special from a local brewery. Santa's Sack, it's called, not that it's an appealing name, but it tastes alright…" I trailed off and then groaned aloud. This wasn't what I'd meant to say. Clearing my throat, I attempted to start again. "Ryan. Thanks for meeting me. Look…" I paused, gathering my words. "We keep running into each other?—"

"Because you joined my gym," he interrupted with an eye roll.

"Yeah, okay. I was hoping you wouldn't focus on that part."

"Whatever. Just get on with it," he muttered before tipping his pint to his lips and taking a large swallow.

He was determined not to make this easy on me, not that I could blame him after the way I'd acted. "How long have you worked at the gym?" I asked, easing us both into what was sure to be an awkward conversation.

"You really want to discuss that now?"

Pinching my brow, I spoke through gritted teeth. "I'm trying to make this less awkward, okay?"

We both fell silent as a loud discussion broke out at the bar. Something about an upcoming rugby game. When the heated argument ended, he picked up his drink again, taking a large swallow before placing it back down with more force than was necessary.

"Can we cut the small talk? Just say whatever you dragged me here to say." Sitting back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Okay." Blowing out a heavy breath, I finally forced out the words I should've said to him the moment I'd seen him in the gym. "I wanted to say sorry. Again."

"What for?" Ryan's guarded eyes finally met mine.

My gaze dropped to the table. I couldn't look at him "F-for trying to, uh, kiss you," I began, my words tripping over themselves to escape. Gulping down the rest of my pint, I set my glass down with a thump. "I was… I know I fucked up, alright? I should never have tried to force a kiss on you." My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat.

He stood abruptly, pushing his way out of the booth. The table rocked in his wake. "I need air." Then he turned his back to me, pushing his way through the drinkers and disappearing out of the door that led to the beer garden.

Jumping to my feet, I ran after him, out into the night. The freezing air hit me, and I shivered, although it was a welcome change from the heat of the pub.

Déjà vu. The last time we'd seen each other, we'd been in a beer garden. Although this time, we were in a tiny yard next to three huge bins since the main beer garden was out at the front of the pub.

"Ryan, please."

He stopped, his back to me, but didn't turn around. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I slumped back against the side of a rickety wooden bench glistening with a layer of frost. "Please. I'm trying to make things right here."