Smitten in the Stacks (For the Love of Austen #2)

Chapter 17

Dax

The gym was filled with people whose lives I’d helped change and I was ready to do even more now that I owned the gym. I grinned, leaning against the freshly polished counter.

My thoughts shifted from workouts to genre debates to that cute bookshop owner. At first, swapping out hardboiled thrillers and horror for sappy love stories with Paris had felt like nails on a chalkboard. With each book, those stories started chipping away at the calloused exterior I’d been hiding behind for years. I was done playing games and finally ready to go all-in—to take charge of my life.

I hadn’t gotten the girl, but at least I had accomplished my dream.

“Daxton, if you spend any more time daydreaming out that window, I’ll charge you rent for the view.” Tom Granger, my father, who wore a white button-up shirt untucked over slacks, walked behind the counter.

“Trust me, Dad, the only thing I’m focused on right now is this place.” I gestured to the expanse of workout machines and free weights.

This gym was more than a business transaction, it was a dream molded from sweat and ambition, now tangible in every dumbbell and treadmill.

His smile widened. “Good.” He clasped my shoulder with a firm hand. “I’m happy to help, Daxton, and not just because I’m charging you interest on this loan.”

Rolling my eyes, I glanced at the signed paperwork spread before us. “I can’t thank you enough, Dad. I have big plans for improvements and offering workout therapy classes next month.”

“I think you’ll do well.” Dad raised an eyebrow. “Ah, may I ask about the girl you’ve been spending so much time with? What was her name, Paris?—the one who owns the bookshop. Your mother wants to meet her.”

My face heated up despite the cool air of the gym. “Yeah, we still hang out. But she made it clear we’re only friends. It’s all good though—I’m glad to have her in my life, even if it’s not the way that I had hoped.”

“That’s a mature way to look at it, son. Whatever happens, you’ve got my full support. I’m proud of how you’re handling things, in business and in your personal life.”

My father’s belief in me only anchored my resolve. With his backing, both financial and paternal, the path forward seemed a little less daunting now that I owned The Muscle Hut.

Dad clasped my hand in a solid shake, the deal sealed, the future bright. “Now, go make the most of it, Daxton.”

With a final nod, he strode out of the gym, leaving me to relish in the glow of ambitions becoming reality. And somewhere between the clinking of weights and the steady tempo of treadmills, a flow of pride straightened my posture. I had fulfilled my goal of becoming a businessowner. It was a risk, but standing here felt like it was exactly where I was meant to be.

The door swung open, and William entered, his gym bag slung over one shoulder. The guy was built like a tank, and his closely cropped hair was reminiscent of a soldier fresh out of boot camp.

“Morning, Dax,” he greeted me.

“Hey, Will.”

“You’re here earlier than usual. What’s the matter? Hanging out at Paris’s bookstore not cutting it anymore?” He glanced at the paperwork and the deed to the gym still on the counter. “What’s this?”

I leaned over the front desk. “I purchased the gym today. You work for me now.”

“Damn, buddy. Good for you.” He switched the gym bag to the other shoulder. “Does that mean I get a raise?”

I chuckled. “No. But you can take on a few of my clients to help ease the load.”

“You still seeing Paris?” He said it as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

My hands clenched at my sides. “I don’t get you. Paris is best friends with your wife. Explain why you don’t like her because your answer is going to decide whether we stay friends.”

William heaved a sigh. “Lately, Rachel’s all wrapped up in her books and that book club, and she barely notices me. And now you’re always with Paris. Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I want you to be happy, to find someone great...I just worry you’re gonna cut me out of your life, that’s all.”

I grunted. “Wow. To think the mighty William is afraid of a little competition.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, but there was a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

Slapping a hand on his shoulder with a firm grip, I said, “Listen up, Will. Paris isn’t gonna take anyone’s place. She’s just...she opened my eyes to things I never gave a chance to before and I enjoy her company.” I frowned at him. “And free advice? If you want to rekindle your relationship with your wife, why not join the book club? I’m sure Rachel would love that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” William gripped a dumbbell. “All right then, Romeo. Let’s see if this newfound perspective has improved your deadlift.”

We worked out together in comfortable silence, our earlier conflict dissolving with each lift and press. Pushing through the sets, I let my mind wander to Paris—the catalyst for all this change—and how the courage gleaned from fictional happy endings might help me find one of my own.

After finishing our session with record weights and high fives that were only slightly ironic, we ambled toward the locker room.

Sitting on the bench, I sighed. “Purchasing this gym...it was actually Paris who inspired me to finally do it.”

William, still catching his breath, gave me a quizzical look. “How’d she get you to do that?”

“One night while we were hanging out, she shared how she’d always dreamt of making her bookshop a landmark in Bluebell Bend, and how she wanted to be a book influencer. It made me think about my own dreams and how I’d been sitting on this gym idea for too long.”

William took a sip from his water bottle. “Well, I’m glad some good came out of this genre-swapping nonsense. I suppose she’s been a good influence on you and I misjudged her.”

“Ya think?” I grunted, shaking my head. “Being around Paris, seeing how she doesn’t cave to expectations but thrives on being herself is inspiring. She also got me into genres I never considered before—like romance.”

“Keep your voice down.” William cracked a smile. “Just don’t tell me you want to start double-dating at poetry slams on Thursday nights.”

Laughing, I dropped my hand from his shoulder. “Could be, buddy. But Paris and I are just friends, no dating.”

William set his bottle down. “Ah, I’m sorry, dude. I know you really like her.”

I shrugged. “It’s all good.” Not really. I was crushed and hurt and still grieving, but putting on a brave face.

“Maybe I should give one of those romance novels a try.”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. “You serious?”

He scratched his head. “Why not? It’s all my wife reads, so yeah.”

I chuckled and promised to lend him one from my own collection at home—a gesture of brotherhood forged in sweat and literary confessions.

William nodded slowly. “Seems Paris has had quite the effect on you.”

Paris had bulldozed through my life like a wrecking ball, leaving me exposed but somehow stronger. She’d challenged me to flex muscles I didn’t even know I had—not the physical kind, but the ones that make you stand tall in your own skin. It was like spotting for someone at the gym and realizing you’re the one getting stronger. Weird how a bookworm could teach a gym rat new tricks about personal growth.

I nodded. “She has, more than I ever expected. It’s about owning who you are, and embracing what makes you different. She helped me see that being myself, a gym-loving book nerd, and horror fan, isn’t just okay—it’s something to celebrate. I owe her a lot.” I stood up. “For now, I’ll start by making this gym a standout place, I’ve got a lot of big ideas for improvements.”

“I wish you every success, buddy. Not that you’re gonna need it.”

After giving William a manly half-hug and agreeing to meet up for some brews later in the week, a realization hit me like a ton of barbells.

This whole reading challenge thing had been my brainchild—a way to get to know a pretty girl that kicked off months ago. Somewhere along the way, it had morphed into a wild ride of self-discovery, and now, I hardly recognized the man staring back at me in the mirror. I was a businessowner now, running my own show and calling the shots. I’d leveled up in a big way, but a nagging feeling crept in. The sense that something was missing, like I needed someone by my side to truly appreciate how far I’d come. Someone like Paris…

As I stuffed my gear into my gym bag and yanked the zipper closed, I couldn’t ignore the cold, hard truth—Paris had laid her cards on the table, and I had to respect that.

With a resolute nod, I squared my shoulders and headed out, knowing deep down that whatever the future held for us, our friendship was too damn valuable to let slip away.