When You're Mine (The Gallaghers) by Layla Hagen



When our session ended, Isabelle headed to the changing rooms, but I went back to the reception area for another protein bar. Propped against the reception desk, I glanced inside the main training room, where we had the cardio equipment and the weight stations. I immediately noticed Dylan doing crunches. Holy crap. The man seemed even sexier than before. Was it all the sweat dotting his skin, or had I been groggy from my fainting spell before? His arms were bent at the elbows, palms at the back of his head. His biceps were on display, and his strong arms were my kryptonite.

I immediately glanced away, looking at the floor while I munched on my protein bar. Once I finished it, I headed to the staff bathroom to refresh for my next session.

Dylan, Dylan, Dylan. Why had he made such an impression on me?

By the time I finished all my sessions later in the evening, I still didn’t have an answer. I was pretty tired. The juice diet had been a terrible idea. Oh well, lesson learned, but I still wanted to check on Dad tonight and do some shopping for him, so it would be a long evening no matter what.

“Bye, Shauna,” I told the receptionist on my way out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

“Bye. Oh wait, before I forget. A client left you a note.”

I blinked. “What?”

She took a folded piece of paper from the shelves where clients could leave valuables, handing it to me. I frowned, unfolding it.

Mel,

In case you’re wondering why the old-fashioned note, I don’t have your number. Below is mine. I’d be happy if you sent me a short text to let me know how you feel.

Best, Dylan

I reread the note twice more, smiling from ear to ear. I had a suspicion that forgetting about my sexy and chivalrous savior wasn’t going to be that easy after all.





Chapter Three




Dylan

After we finished with the gym, we headed to Isabelle and Brayden’s apartment. They were moving into a massive house outside the city in a couple weeks, and I’d offered to help them pack up their apartment. They could easily afford a moving company, but I knew neither of them wanted to let strangers into their home. As was usually the case with Isabelle, it had turned into a family get-together. Our brother Ian was already here, and our sister Josie and three of her husband’s cousins, Ryker, Cole, and Tess Winchester, were on their way. We were so close to the Winchesters that I considered them family.

“When is everyone else arriving?” Ian asked as the three of us sat on the couch in the living room. The whole place was a mess. Empty boxes were lying around everywhere between stacks of books and clothes.

I checked my phone a couple times, but I didn’t have any message from Mel. She was probably still doing her training sessions. I chuckled, remembering her mischievous smile when she asked me to keep her secret.

“Not sure. Everyone said they’re on the way,” Isabelle answered. “Oh, before they all get here, I want your opinion on something for the wedding.”

Ian and I exchanged a glance. Our sister loved involving us in every decision regarding the big day. The only one I wanted to be involved in was security since paparazzi gave my sister headaches after a few incidents, and I didn’t want anything ruining her wedding.

But security had been discussed over and over again, and I was happy with all the final details. Now I just participated in wedding conversations to appease my sister. It wasn't my favorite topic, but I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to feel that we were in her corner and supporting her. Brayden’s world was still new to her, and although she had accompanied him on parts of the tour, much of it had been overwhelming. Ian and I moved to New York last year. Prior to that we were in Washington D.C. and only saw our sisters a couple times a year. Now that we all lived in the same city, we wanted to take advantage of getting together as often as we could.

Usually Isabelle included Mom and Dad on the phone when she had to make big decisions, but this time she didn't. Isabelle sat on the couch between Ian and me, putting her laptop on the coffee table in front of us.

"Do you think she just wants to torture us?" my brother asked in a mocking whisper, even though Isabelle could easily hear him.

"Unfortunately, I think it's her way of expressing love, by asking for our help in anything," I said.

"Exactly," my sister replied, winking at me. "And this isn't hard. I'm trying to compile a group of pictures. I want to surprise Mom and Dad with a slideshow."

"That explains why they're not on the phone," Ian said.