Tight Buns - Kate Hunt Page 0,1

who’s ever told me I wouldn’t make it? That I couldn’t make it? All they did was give me the backbone to push myself and the focus and determination to block out distractions.

I’m not about to stop now.

I don’t mind that I’ve always had to work extra hard—or that every step along the way, I’ve had to prove myself all over again. I don’t mind it because I love what I do. I was born for this. Dancing is a part of my soul. It lights up my spirit and unleashes a part of me that I can’t imagine ever giving up…even if I do have to give it up in the professional sense once this upcoming season is over.

“Just remember that you can’t go too hard,” Jessa says, looking down at my leg. “You want to strengthen your calf, not reinjure it.”

“Okay, Mom,” I tease Jessa.

I do appreciate her concern, though. At the end of last season, one of my partners missed his cue by a fraction of a second after lifting me, and I could tell as I landed—pain ripping through my calf and bringing me to my knees—that I’d done some real damage.

But the really painful part was when I was informed that the injury was bad enough that I could inflict permanent damage if I continued to dance with the same intensity for years.

It’s one thing to push myself, but another to risk my long-term health. I made the gut-wrenching decision then and there that I’d only dance one more season, savoring one last round before hanging up my professional pointe shoes.

That’s why I pushed myself so hard in physical therapy, and it’s why I’m here with Jessa now to get into the best shape of my life before the new season starts.

If this has to be my last year as a professional dancer, I’m going to make the most of it.

And that’s exactly why I can’t let any of the hotties that Jessa keeps pointing out distract me.

“You’re drooling, Jess,” I chide her playfully as we head over to the free weights. She’s eyeing a man who’s using a squat rack—a man who clearly takes his workouts seriously by the die-hard expression on his face.

“Blame me?” Jessa murmurs, giving the man another glance.

I shake my head and laugh. We’re almost over to the weights.

And that’s when I notice him—a man standing across the room, leaning in the doorway of an office. A gorgeous man. A slightly older man. A man who’s looking at me.

I trip over my own feet.

“Hey,” Jessa says, grabbing my arm to steady me as her eyes dart down to my calf with concern. “Cramp?”

“No. I’m fine. I just tripped.”

“You sure it’s not your calf?” she asks, still looking concerned as heat rises in my cheeks.

I nod vigorously.

Finally, Jessa lets go of me and grabs a couple of hand weights to start the upper body workout we’d planned on. I take another drink of water out of my bottle before doing the same, avoiding looking over at the hunky guy a second time. I’ve never had a problem staying focused on what’s important, and I’m not about to waver from that now.

Still, as I begin to curl weights, I can’t help but quickly peek over at him again.

One more peek won’t hurt, right?

God, he really is handsome. It’s not just his cut muscles, square jaw, or piercing blue eyes. It’s the smile he’s giving me right now—a slow, sexy one that makes it feel like we’re the only two people in the room.

“My form look okay?” Jessa says.

I tear my eyes away from him and focus on Jessa.

No distractions. No distractions.

Especially not ones that make my heart do a grand jeté.

Chapter Two

Gavin

I can feel her looking at me. Even with my back turned now, I know she’s stealing glances.

I know it because I’m doing the same thing.

My policy has always been to keep things strictly professional in my gym. I’ve never allowed myself to get involved with anyone who’s set foot in here, never done anything that might come back to bite me in the ass.

But this girl is making me forget all my own rules.

I want to talk to her. I’m going to talk to her. But I have to wait. If I go over there right now, I won’t be able to stop staring, and I don’t trust the words that might spill out of my mouth. I’ll end up telling her how beautiful she is, or how I can’t