Free Release by Brenda Rothert Page A

another from a cameraman working on the documentary I’d agreed to be part of.
    I groaned when I saw the second message. We were meeting up for the first time this morning at my gym. Fucking hell. I didn’t feel like being social right now.
    Samara hadn’t written me back, and the disappointment hit me like a punch to the face. I’d been up for hours after she left last night, hoping she’d text back and running over things again and again in my mind.
    Had I pushed her too far? Been too aggressive? I’d never misread a woman’s signals before, and knowing I’d made her uncomfortable was eating at me. I’d thought she was every bit as into it as I was. And Christ , had I been into it.
    With a deep sigh, I got out of bed and headed for the shower.
    While I waited for the water to warm up, I leaned against the wall and glanced around the white-tiled room. Dad and I had finished this bathroom together when I was a freshman in high school. He’d wanted me to have a space of my own and said it would be a good chance to teach me about plumbing.
    The bathroom at my Chicago apartment was three times the size of this one, finished in marble and granite, but I preferred this one. I wished like hell Dad was still here. I’d always been able to talk to him about things and get sound advice. He’d gone suddenly, suffering a heart attack at work. Sometimes a fresh wave of grief would still hit me.
    What would Dad have said about Samara if I’d asked for his advice? Probably that some things are worth waiting for. I’d rushed it, letting my desire to connect with her on a deeper level overrule my better judgment.
    But still … I hadn’t tried to sleep with her. Maybe she thought that was where I was heading, though. Samara was different than the other women I’d been with. She wasn’t trying to hook up and then drag me into a relationship after. That was the usual m.o.
    When we got close physically, she was always so nervous. Was it me making her that way?
    The answer struck so suddenly that my mouth dropped open. Shower water pelted the inside of my mouth in droplets until I closed it again. Why the hell hadn’t I figured it out sooner?
    Samara was a virgin. That explained everything. And I probably seemed like a guy who wanted to bang her before I cut town at the end of the summer.
    I had to slow things down and let her know I didn’t expect sex. Hopefully that would ease the tension between us.
    When I stepped out of the shower and dried off, I felt better about things. Now I just had to get her to talk to me.

    Being filmed while working out was an odd feeling. I was conscious of my form on every rep. And I couldn’t help hoping my labored expression while deadlifting didn’t make me look like I was taking a shit.
    Dan assured me I’d get used to the camera and eventually forget it was even there. He was a short dude with a black goatee who didn’t say a whole lot.
    “That was great,” he said, approaching me as I was taking a water break. “I’m done for today.”
    “You sure? I’ve got another hour to go.”
    “Nope, I’m just gonna pack up and go. A producer will be with me next time to do some sit-down interview footage. We’ll let you know when. Sometime next week.”
    I nodded and shook his outstretched hand. “See you then, man.”
    Samara was on my mind as I went through the motions of the rest of my workout. I couldn’t stop seeing her expression as she looked at me, her hazel eyes glazed with lust. The way she’d moaned and responded to the slightest touch made me wonder if anyone had ever touched her that way before.
    Surely a woman so beautiful had at least gotten close to sex. But I wasn’t so sure. She’d jumped and given me a terrified look when I touched the bare skin of her stomach.
    I dropped the bar, done with my workout. Sweat rolled down my face in streams, and I pulled up my t-shirt to mop it dry.
    After a quick shower in the gym’s locker room, I headed for the Dugout to get