His New Jam (14 page)

Chapter 1

J
ust as Free Mitchell parked his car at the health club, his phone started buzzing with a text. He should've called Cary as soon as he'd known he'd be late.

Free ran around to the front of the building where he knew he'd find his brother waiting outside. Even after all these months, Cary still wouldn't go in without him.

“Sorry I'm late. I was with Hunter and Adam talking about the New Year's Eve party.”

“Let me guess—you had to wait on Hunter.”

“Of course.” Free reached over and pulled the door open.

As he walked through, Cary asked, “How'd it go?”

“The usual. Hunter wants a big blowout like last year, but Adam and I don't. Hunter said he'd limit his invites if Adam and I have dates.”

Cary laughed. Like out-loud-drawing-attention laughter.

“It's not that funny,” Free said as they entered the locker room.

“You haven't had a girlfriend since last spring.”

Free couldn't argue because his brother would know if he lied. He hadn't even had a real date since Kim broke up with him. He blamed being out of practice; he and Kim dated for over a year. In reality, he sucked at asking girls out.

Cary changed quickly while Free waited. He never did a real workout with Cary. He was there just for the wow factor. As Cary grabbed a towel, Free adjusted the lapels on his coat and straightened his earflap hat. Showtime.

Some costumes he wore required more props. Sherlock Holmes was simple. Unfortunately, many people didn't necessarily get it, even with the overcoat and hat, so he carried an oversized magnifying glass with him to aid in his sleuthing.

Truth be told, Cary no longer needed his help. Last summer, after the doctor told Cary he absolutely had to get off his fat ass and lose weight, Free offered to work out with him. Cary admitted that it wasn't the working out that bothered him as much as the people staring at him.

So three days a week for the past six months or so, Free dressed in outlandish costumes to draw attention away from his overweight brother.

Cary sat down at the first machine to work his legs, and Free leaned against the adjacent machine. For a change, the room wasn't crowded and no one took notice of them.

“What are you going to do about Hunter?”

“I'm going to prove him wrong. I'll find a date for the party.”

Cary extended his legs and brought them back. “See if she has a sister, okay?”

The workout routine continued on in the same manner, Cary working various muscle groups and chatting. They talked about work and the holidays and Free became bored.

When Cary got on the treadmill, Free wandered around, trying to find something of interest. Two muscle-bound guys came out of the locker room and sneered at him.

One said, “Who do you think you are?”

Channeling the arrogance of his father, as he did every time he needed to portray Holmes, he answered, “
I'm a high-functioning sociopath
. Sherlock Holmes.”

He cocked an eyebrow and waited for them to respond. The first guy elbowed the other and they called a few friends over.

A ball of nerves plummeted through Free. He'd never been much of a fighter and he knew he couldn't hold his own with the first two, much less all their friends. He looked at the group and said in his best British accent, “
I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room.
”

To his surprise, all the guys started to laugh. Sure, he was insulting them, and he was pretty sure they understood that, but they still laughed. Free pulled out his magnifying glass, nodded to them, and walked back toward the treadmills.

Cary slowed his pace. “Problem?” he asked, tilting his chin toward where Free had come from.

“Nope. Just my winning personality creating more fans.” He leaned against the rail of the treadmill while Cary jogged and watched the TV in front of them. Cary had it tuned to the financial reports. He didn't need to hear the anchor or have closed captioning on. He simply watched the numbers scrolling at the bottom of the screen. The red-and-green digits soothed him like a lullaby to a baby.

When Cary stepped off the treadmill, Free followed him to the locker room. “I'm going so I'm not late for rehearsal, okay?”

“Sure. See you later.”

He walked out the front door of the health club, but instead of heading to the parking garage around back, he went to the coffee shop down the street. For the last month, there was a woman who came in at the same time he did. Samantha—he loved places that made it easy to learn everyone's name. In light of Hunter's challenge to get a date, and Cary's laughter at the thought, Free decided that today would be the day he would speak to her.

He entered the shop and a warm blast of air hit him. The shop wasn't usually busy at this time and today was no different. As he approached the counter, Samantha was in front of him, digging through her purse. The cashier watched her with impatience just short of rolling her eyes.

“I'm so sorry. I know I had cash in here.” Her long, light-brown hair created a curtain across her cheek. “I can't believe they stole it again.”

For a change things actually worked in Free's favor. He wouldn't need to force an introduction. He pulled out money and said, “Here. Let me.”

The cashier smiled brightly at him. “Anything for you?”

“Large black. Thank you.”

She charged him for both coffees and Samantha stared at him with her wide, pink-lipped mouth hanging open. He had the sudden urge to feel those lips against his.

“Thank you,” she finally managed. “I can pay you back.”

“No big deal.”

From the other side of the counter, the barista called, “Samantha.”

Free pointed over his shoulder. “Your coffee's ready.”

She took a step, then paused. “How did you know?”

He winked at her. “Elementary, my dear. I'm here at this time three days a week. They call your name every time.”

“Hey, Sherlock.” The barista thought he was funny.

Free followed Samantha to the other end of the counter and grabbed his cup.

Samantha smiled. Her whole face brightened as she looked up at him, her amber eyes shining, and said, “Thanks again. I appreciate it. I'll get yours next time I see you.”

“Until then.” He gave her a tip of his hat and turned to leave. If he had his way, he'd be sharing a cup of coffee with her by week's end.