Page 13 of Jackrabbit

It smelled like Beau. Like coffee, grease, and that cologne. Colt tapped his foot against the floorboard.

Beau set the bag between them on the bench seat and hauled himself up, silent as he pulled away from the shop with a classic rock station buzzing over the truck’s speakers. Which, okay, Colt had pegged him for country despite the never-ending collection of rock tees. Stereotyping probably, because of the accent.

Five minutes later, they pulled up to a gym with one other car in the parking lot, an aggressively green Jetta. Beau shut the truck off and got out, taking the bag with him as Colt opened his own door and followed.

“Here.” Beau handed him the gym bag and started toward the front door. “Go change and meet me at the back.”

Colt hurried through the silent gym to the locker room, where he threw off his clothes and tossed them in the locker before pulling brand spanking new clothes in his size out of the gym bag. Black sweats, black compression shirt,white shoes. How did Beau know his size? Was that creepy? Was it creepy that he didn’t find it creepy?

Less than five minutes after they walked in, Colt stepped up next to Beau by the weights. Beau was busy setting the bench upright at a small incline.

“Wanna check your baseline today,” Beau rumbled as he spread a workout towel across the back of the bench. “See what we’re working with before I start you on a routine.”

“I work out already.” Colt crossed his arms. “This is the easy stuff. What I need is to get onto a track.”

“Mhmm.” Beau picked up a set of dumbbells and set them near the bench, then went back for a heavier pair to add to the lineup. “What you need is to get a whole lot stronger than you think you need to be.”

“I’m plenty strong.” Rolling his eyes, Colt stepped closer with a smirk. “Stronger than you, old man.”

“That right?” Beau drawled. He set another pair of weights on the floor before he turned to look Colt up and down with an expression that said ‘I find you lacking, little man.’

“Uh-huh.” Colt flexed. “The picture of fitness, you know, like—”

One second Beau was in front of him, the next he was snatching Colt’s wrists and spinning him around. He kicked Colt’s feet out from under him, and Colt fell face down onto the gym floor. A knee dug into his back, his arms were trapped in an iron grip. He wheezed.

“What was that?” Beau asked. He leaned down, the heat of him burning all along Colt’s back. “Couldn’t hear you, what with these old man ears and all.”

Oh, fuck.

Oh.

Oh, Beau washot.

“You know what five G feels like?” Beau asked conversationally as his knee ground down against him.

“Like your porn loads really fast?” Colt quipped, his neck burning.

“It feels like this.” Beau pushed harder, and Colt tried to squirm. Couldn’t. “Only sustained for two straight hours. Four, five G on a corner, and your helmet turns your head into a sixty pound weight. Neck’s screaming, core’s burning while it tries to keep you from folding in half.”

Colt jerked one of his arms, and it didn’t budge at all. And fuck if he wasn’t getting hard right now, heat licking at him as his cock filled against the filthy gym floor. Because that voice telling him how easy it would be for him to fold like a tortilla in a race car was what did it for Colt these days, apparently. Beau’s breath washed across the back of his neck, and Colt pressed his lips together.

He was insomuch trouble.

“If you’re not strong enough, you lose control of your body.” Beau sat back on Colt’s thighs, still holding Colt’s wrists in that insane grip. “You lose control of your body, and you’re hitting a wall going a buck-fifty in front of ten thousand people.”

“Alright, alright.” Colt bit down on his inner lip, hard, and willed his dick to behave for five fucking seconds. “I get it, okay? Consider me schooled. Get off me before you crush me flat, you giant.”

Beau pushed down one more time as if his point wasn’t alreadycrystal clearbefore pulling himself to his feet. Colt pressed his forehead into the gym floor. He stretched out his arms as he tried to come to terms with his new worldview. His boss was hot as fuck, Colt was horny about it, and this was going to be a really long day. Sweet.

When he finally stood, Beau nodded at the bench without a word. Colt went to sit, but Beau tutted at him—Jesus—and spun his finger around. Colt straddled the bench backwards.

“Feet flat, spine straight,” Beau instructed. Colt did as he was told, and Beau hooked the end of a short resistance band around something at the back of the bench. He handed the other end to Colt. “Hold that.”

At this height, Colt had a seriously unfortunate view of the gray sweats he’d noticed in passing earlier. Or fortunate, depending on how you looked at it. And he was definitely looking at it. Holy—

Nope. Bad Colt.

There was a mural across the room with a roadrunner and a javelina running through the desert, and he looked at it like his life depended on it. Which it might, because if he popped a boner right now and Beau was the type of guy who didn’t like that, he might really die. Anyway, Roadrunners and javelinas. What did they have to do with working out?