DELETED SCENE

(I wrote this chapter for Thicker Than Water, but the book ran long in revisions and sacrifices were made. But nothing goes to waste, so you get to enjoy Aithan losing his cool.)

“Cron”

The Fatkini Chronicles

“Hey, Aithan, what’s up, man?”

Aithan put down the plate he’d just removed from the leg press. Cron Manson stood beside him, black duffle bag in hand. “Hey, Cron. Just work and life. You training with Juan today?”

“Yeah, today. But, listen, any chance I can switch to early mornings?”

Aithan squinted, mentally reviewing the schedule. “Possibly. What time?”

Cron was a fitness model and reminded Aithan a bit too much of Sebastian. He tried not to hold that against the guy. “Well, that depends.”

“On what?”

Cron looked around. Not that there was anyone else in the gym. Chel had a later start and Juan was in the office.

“So a few months ago, I was working out with Juan around seven-thirty and there was this absolutely fucking gorgeous woman working out with Chel. Statuesque with curves to die for. You know, like a killer rack, snatched waist, and mmm hips and ass like you dream of. Long reddish-brown hair and big blue-green eyes. Lemme tell you, I enjoyed that view and I cannot get her outta my mind. Kinda hoping I can see her in here on the regular. That kinda scenery makes a guy pump a little harder, you know what I mean?”

Aithan stared at the dude. Was he really this dumb? He pulled at the Velcro straps holding his workout gloves in place and tugged them off, trying to keep his irritation from swelling into rage. “You want me to change your schedule so you can watch this woman workout?”

Juan appeared in the doorway from the office into the gym. He must’ve been close enough to overhear because the look on his face was a mixture of disgust and astonishment. Aithan figured he looked the same.

Cron smirked. “Exactly. You gonna tell me who she is?”

Aithan dropped his gloves on the floor and stepped into Cron’s personal space, satisfied to see a flicker of uncertainty cross the man’s face. “Yeah.” He bared his teeth, unable to stop a feral part of him from showing. “She’s my wife.”

Cron took a big step back and raised his hands, palms facing Aithan. “Whoa, shit. Ah, sorry, Aithan. Man, wow, big mistake on my part. I didn’t know.”

Juan strode toward them, obviously smelling Aithan’s tolerance overheating. “Not cool, Cron.”

“Yeah, no, I-I get that. Really sorry.” Cron kept backpedaling, but he wasn’t gonna escape that easily.

Aithan pointed at the door. “You’re not getting a scheduling change. You’re getting booted from Blue Water.”

“Cool, cool. I can see why that’d piss you off. I’d be tweaked, too. Some dude eyeing my woman. I’ll just stick with my set schedule. No harm, no foul.”

“No. You’re out. Juan, cancel his contract and refund the rest of his month.”

Juan nodded. “On it.”

“What? Why? I said I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re sorry, alright. A sorry excuse for a man.” Aithan started toward Cron, and the dude wisely retreated to the door. “Women come to Blue Water to work out in peace. They don’t come here to be ogled by some limp-dicked jackass with a brain smaller than his scrotum.”

Juan stepped into the narrow gap between his business partner and the idiot who was about to be handed his teeth. “Aithan, I’ll handle it.”

Aithan only saw red. “Learn some respect and get the fuck outta my gym.”

Cron’s eyes widened as he apparently realized he’d awakened a sleeping bear.

Juan held up his hands. “Aithan. Office, man. Go cool down.”

Aithan stabbed a finger at the dumbass. “Out. Now.” He stalked across the room and slammed the office door behind him, then paced a circle. He yanked open the fridge and pulled out his BWF bottle. Downing the ice-cold water did nothing to ease his temper as he continued to range from one wall to the other in the long, narrow room.

“The fucking nerve of that asshole.” He threw the bottle at the back wall. It hit with a loud clang, ricocheted off to strike the adjoining wall, then the floor, spinning away beneath one of the desks.

The door opened and Juan stepped inside. “Dude. Jack-hole is gone and practically shit his pants.”

“He’s lucky he still has an ass to shit with.”

Juan’s brows furrowed. “Everything okay at home?” He jerked his thumb toward Graycroft. “Are Zelda and the baby alright?”

Hands on his hips, Aithan glared at the floor and clenched his jaw. He felt like a douche for throwing the bottle. “Yes. They’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Then why’re you throwing shit?”

“Pierdol mnie,” Aithan cursed under his breath, then added louder, “I’m sorry. That was unnecessary.”

God, he owed Babcia so much money from all the cussing lately.

Juan shook his head. “C’mon, man. You were ready to tear off Cron’s head and shit down his neck.”

“Yeah, I still want to.”

Juan crossed his arms. “What’s got you so ready to kill?”

Aithan scowled. “You heard that głupek. There’s no way you think I shoulda given him a pass for that behavior.”

“Hell no, but you’ve handled dickweeds like him before without getting homicidal. What I’m asking is what happened before Manson walked in and tripped your wire?”

“Kurwa.” Another vile text message had happened. Not a way he’d wanted to start his day. Aithan ran his fingers through his hair before looking up at his business partner. “Paypig is back.”

Chel strolled into the office, unaware of the drama she’d missed. “Did I just hear you name the skankiest stalker that ever did stalk?”

“Yeeaah.” Aithan retrieved the thrown Blue Water bottle, scowling at its deformed metal.

Juan sat at his desk and powered up his laptop. “Also, Cron Manson is out. Permanently.”

Chel glanced over her shoulder into the gym. “I wondered where that asshole was. Good riddance. The guy gives me the skeeves.”

Aithan aimed his frown at her. “Why didn’t you say something?”

She swung around and leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “Because if we’d dumped every client who acted like a lecher, Blue Water never would’ve made it to today.”

Juan tapped away on the computer’s keyboard. “Yeah, well, that lecher asked to change schedules so he could ogle our illustrious leader’s wife.”

Chel’s jaw dropped and she looked horrified. “Oh, fuck me, are you kidding?”

Aithan sucked his teeth. “It’s been a banner day.”

“Jeez, our sexual harassment policy is only highlighted on our contract, the website, and the doors.” She slapped her hand against the posted policy on the door she was leaning against. “The fucking numbskull really has no excuse for being that absolutely clueless.”

“Yup.” Juan closed the laptop and pushed his chair back. “When you think with your dick, you spend a lotta time missing the obvious.” He folded his hands and eyed Aithan. “So how long have you been dealing with the pig this time?”

Aithan rolled his head on his neck. “As long as Zel’s been pregnant.”

“Seriously?” Chel shook her head. “You should’ve shared with us, Aith.”

“It’s been fine. The messages come in, I delete them. No big deal.”

Juan cocked a brow. “Wow. Lie to yourself, man, but not to us.”

Chel nodded. “We’ve all been there.” She glanced at Juan. “Remember Mr. Footloose?”

He groaned and Aithan couldn’t help but laugh. Juan had the misfortune of attracting people with foot fetishes. Mr. Footloose had been particularly obsessed and graphic in his worship of Juan’s size elevens.

“Yeah, well, what about Gray the Stray?” Juan countered.

Chel laughed. “What about him? He was harmless.”

“And loaded,” Aithan remarked. Grayson Hughes had paid Chel five thousand dollars a month to train him three days a week at his Bellvue mansion. Except most of the time, he’d just wanted to talk.

She looked wistful. “Poor guy. He was just lonely. But he’s the reason I could buy a house in Maple Leaf.”

Juan turned his attention back to Aithan. “So if Paypig is no big deal, why’d I have to stop you from crushing Manson’s skull?”

Aithan tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, before puffing out a breath and facing them. “Because she’s one of my mother’s friends.”

Both Juan and Chel got wide-eyed at that. “Oh,” she said and Juan muttered, “Yikes.”