Master Daddy (The Hardrock Mountain Daddies #3)
1. Luke
Luke
“Hmmm, to work out or not to work out,” I mutter. “That is the question.”
I rub my eyes in an attempt to adjust to the morning light as it seeps in through the part-drawn blinds on my bedroom window.
“Urgh, Buster, what time is it?” I ask, casting a quick glance over to my stuffie, Buster. “I know, I know, time to get my butt up and out of bed, right?”
Buster simply looks back toward me with his big brown bobcat eyes. It’s hardly great motivation to get out of my warm and super-cozy bed when I know I could just as easily grab my lifelong best friend stuffie and allow myself to go back to sleep for at least another hour, maybe two.
It’s six in the morning and if I want to get a workout in today, then it needs to be now. I’ve got a morning shift at Mr. and Mrs. Peplinska’s grocery store, followed up by an afternoon until close shift at Jonathan Melville’s stationary store.
And when I’m done at both those places… I’ll be beat.
I know what I’m like. The second my work shift at the stationary store is done, the only place I’m going to want to be as right here, at home. And the very last place I’d want to be is at the gym.
Don’t get me wrong, I love training and getting fitter and stronger is something I’ve been working toward pretty consistently over the last few months. But it has to be at the right time for me to be in the mood to do it.
And what’s very much the wrong time for lifting weights and working my glutes on the hip thruster is after a long day’s work!
“Okay… I’m up,” I say, a wry smile on my face as I do my best attempt at springing myself up and out of bed.
Still a little hazy, I take Buster under one arm and walk out of my bedroom, down the short but sweet corridor of my apartment and into my snug little kitchen.
“Okay… overnight oats and a pre-workout drink it is,” I say, injecting a little cheeriness into my slow morning wakeup. “Rome wasn’t built in a day. And neither will my body! But I’m making a start at least…”
I take a seat at my round breakfast table and put Buster in his usual position next to me. As I begin to work my way through the overnight oats, I look out of my kitchen window…
With views over the nearby park and in walking distance of the main hubbub of my little town, I love my apartment. It might not be a mansion or one of the fancy-Nancy townhouses over on the other side of town, but it’s super-convenient, comfortable, and has enough space for me.
Oh, and it’s mine.
I might only be twenty-six, but a couple of years ago I worked for a single year in a finance job in the city. I truly hated every minute of it, and by the end of the twelve months I was close to totally losing myself, so much so that I knew I just had to get out.
However…
In that solitary year of making big bucks, I earned enough money to be able to buy this place outright.
And I don’t care that my former colleagues are all living in penthouses and driving Porsches now either. I know from experience that earning money when you really don’t love what you do will never bring you happiness, no matter what the financial reward.
When I left the city to return home to Hardrock Park, I left behind money, fancy bars, and a whole ton of stress that I just didn’t need in my life. Oh, and I also left behind a pretty crappy boyfriend too. But the less said about Patrick the better.
I’ve got everything I need in my life now. Fun jobs, an awesome apartment, my stuffie, and a bunch of friends who love me for me, and not for what I can do for them.
Maybe you could say the only thing I’m missing is a certain special someone to keep me warm at night, but I guess I’ll find him too one day.
But it’s no rush. Right now I’m kinda okay with it just being me.
And after my less than positive relationship—okay, totally toxic relationship—with Patrick, I think it’s probably a good idea to give men a wide berth for a little while longer.
Anyway…
Right now I need to finish these oats, slurp my pre-workout drink, and haul my ass to the gym. I’ve got a long and hectic day ahead of me, and I know it’ll just fly by as long as I get my training session done and dusted.
“Okay, Buster, it’s time to move my ass out of here and into the gym!” I chuckle, finishing off my drink and putting it, along with my oats bowl, into the kitchen sink. “We’re going to lift heavy today. And nothing is going to stop us!”
* * *
I arrive at the gym and it’s nice and quiet, just what I would expect for this time of the morning. The music is playing and as I look around, I can see the other early birds getting on with their training with smile son their faces and sweat on their brows.
With its bright interior and selection of top quality machines, it’s the kind of place that gives everyone a chance to work out and enjoy themselves while they get fit. I love the fact that there’s a big painted sign on the gym’s largest wall that reads:
WHOEVER YOU ARE, YOU ARE A FRIEND.
TRAIN HARD, MAKE THOSE GAINS.
BUT MOST OF ALL… LOVE YOURSELF!
There’s no judgement in this gym. Whether you are young or old, a seasoned lifter or just starting out, everyone is treated equally and with respect.
Oh, and I truly love the fact that there’s a little juice and protein shake bar here too.
Sadly, it doesn’t open until 09:00, but it’s a super addition and has some of the tastiest protein shakes you could ever dream of.
Cookie crunch and vanilla flavor with thirty-five grams of protein? Yummy!
Anyway, I’ll have to get a protein shake another time. I’ll be done and dusted here and on my way to the grocery store before the juice bar is open.
“Hmmm,” I mutter, looking around. “Milo?”
I’m meant to be meeting Milo, one of my BFFs here, and so far, there’s no sign of him. He’s usually pretty good at timekeeping, so I’m a little surprised that he’s not here yet.
Oh well, I guess I’ll make a start and hopefully he’ll be walking in through those doors any minute.
After all, we’ve both decided that we’re going to go for PB’s on our bench presses today.
We might be Littles, but that doesn’t mean we don’t take this seriously!
We’ve got a bit of friendly competition running between us as to who can break their personal best the soonest. I think I’m going to win, and naturally Milo thinks he’s going to come out on top.
The winner of our contest will be treated to an all expenses paid visit to the diner for a big celebratory brunch with extra pancakes, milkshake, and chocolate-covered waffles too.
So, yeah, I’m definitely going to make sure I show Milo that I’m the strongest Little in town.
And speaking of my tardy buddy, I hear my phone ping and see a message from Milo pop up…
MILO: Yo! I’m soooo sorry but I’m going to have to skip training this morning. Connor has set-up a big Daddy surprise road trip for me! Eeek! I’m so excited (but also super-sorry to cancel last minute on you!!!!) Please forgive me? XoXo
I can’t help but smile. Milo and his Daddy Connor have a great relationship, and I honestly am not even slightly bothered that he won’t be able to train with me this morning. If anything, I think I can actually spin this into a positive…
LUKE: Hehe, that’s cool! You guys will have a wicked-cool time wherever you go, and I want to hear all the details when you get back. And by the way… I’m going to have an extra juicy training session to make sure I win our little contest mw-ha-ha! Evil laugh evil laugh! ;)
With that, I put my phone away and make a start on my workout. And it doesn’t take long before I’m feeling my body warm up to the task at hand as I cycle through my routine of movements and exercises.
But there is one slight cloud on the horizon…
I’m down to work on my bench press today and without Milo being with me, I don’t have a spotter.
A spotter is a buddy who makes sure that if things get a little rough on the bench press, they’re there to help you get that barbell up and away from you if you’re arms and chest give-out and can’t push any more.
I spot that there is a free bench available. I know I should quickly walk over toward it and make it mine. After all, if I miss this chance I know I might not get another if someone else gets on there and decides to take their sweet time between each set.
Suddenly my mind is spinning with all the negative thoughts, a far cry from my usual sunny demeanor…
I’ll be by myself though…
What happens if I get stuck…
Do I really want to crush myself LOL…
“No, let’s do it,” I say, gritting my teeth and striding over toward the bench.
I decide that I won’t push myself too hard and instead work on my form and technique. This way, the need for a potential spotter will be massively reduced and I won’t have to worry about crushing my body and leaving in an ambulance!
I set myself down and lie on the smooth, black leather bench. After adjusting my shoulders and legs I do a few warm-up repetitions with just the barbell and no weight on it.
“Feeling good,” I say, smiling to myself.
And as I progress up the weights, I can’t help but shake the feeling that today might actually be a good day to try for a personal best. If I could actually nail a new weight today, it would put me in a totally awesome position to beat Milo at the climax of our contest.
I finish my final warm-up set and stand up from the bench.
Should I go for it?
Or should I be cautious?
“Nawww, I’ve got this,” I say, my confidence high and adrenalin pumping.
Without allowing for a single second of hesitation in case I get the jitters, I load up the extra plates to the barbell. I set myself back down on the bench, get my feet in the right position, take a deep breath and then unmount the bar.
It feels heavy right off the bat. But I knew it would. I’m going for one rep and one rep only, so I know all I need to do is get my focus right and throw everything I’ve got into this from the jump.
It feels like time is slowing all the way down as I take a deep breath.
“Come on, Luke,” I say as I take a deep breath and lower the weight, ready to power it back up.
You can do this.
You’ve got this…
Oh, wow, no, you do not have this!
Suddenly, I realize that this weight is in actual fact way too heavy for me right now. But I’ve got no other option but to push, push, and push until I can’t anymore.
“Gaaaaargh,” I strain, the barbell moving absolutely nowhere despite my body working overtime to try and shift it upward.
And worse, not only is the barbell not moving upward… it’s now very much a case of when not if it starts coming back down onto my body.
Oh crap.
I’m screwed.
I should call out for help… but the shame of it!
But before I know it, I see a large shadow over me and suddenly feel the barbell rise like it barely weighs more than a single chopstick.
“Urgh, OMG, thank you,” I say, a little dizzy as the realization of just how close a call that was hits home.
As I somewhat gingerly sit up, I turn to the side and see him, my bench press protector…
“Did I just die and go to heaven?” I mutter, my head clearly still spinning from the epic effort I just put in.
“Excuse me?” the man replies, a gruff but bemused tone to his voice.
“N-n-n-nothing,” I say, my cheeks flushing red as I take in the sight of pretty much the most handsome, strong as a house and nearly as tall hunk I’ve probably ever seen. “Thanks, by the way. Again. Thank you, again.”
Okay, I think I need to shut up now…
“Mason,” the man says. “Mason Beech. You’re Milo’s friend, right?”
“Wait, you’re Mason?” I ask, desperately trying to hide the fact that my cock is semi-hard and probably way more visible under my t-shirt than I’d like it to be right now.
“That’s what I said,” Mason laughs. “Looks like we’ve got a case of the bench press blackouts here. You know, you really should have a spotter when you’re going that heavy.”
“Right,” I say, a rueful smile on my face.
“I ain’t kidding,” Piper replies, a surprisingly stern tone in his voice. “The gym isn’t a playroom. It’s full of some serious equipment that can cause a lot of damage if it’s not treated with respect.”
I simply nod and try not to blush too hard.
But there’s something about the way that Mason is talking to me right now that is doing all kinds of things to me. I know that he’s a Daddy too on account of Milo mentioning that his Daddy has a friend called Mason who works out of town for most of the year, on some oil rig or something.
“Hello? Anyone there?” Mason asks—although it comes across more like a demand.
“Yeah, totally, one hundred percent here,” I answer, suddenly babbling like a naughty pupil in the presence of a strict but seriously hot teacher. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”
“Oh, I know you will,” Mason says. “And here’s how…”