Chapter 6
Ethan Quinn
She was starting to piss me off.
Actually, she was turning into the reason I’d once sworn off a future with someone.
Back then, most of my brothers had been on my side. Darius had flat-out said he’d never settle down either. Now look at him. He had a man and two kids.
When I’d turned thirty-five, I’d been hit with a deep urge to eventually share my life with someone—and that wasn’t fucking happening.
Bad date after bad date. I’d had a handful of brief relationships, not one lasting over six months, not one giving me the desire to introduce them to my family. And still, Natalie Nolan was worse.
In my twenties, settling down had been an instant no for me because I’d believed women were just out to trap you.
Turned out I was fucking right. Something about Natalie reeled me in.
I’d done my best to slam my internal defenses into place, but it wasn’t working with her.
I went over our interactions day and night, and everything reminded me of her.
I found myself wanting to text her all the time, whether a recipe made me think of her or I wanted to learn more about her past.
Evidently, she’d been engaged.
She’d been in love. She’d had someone she’d wanted to share the rest of her life with.
She dropped these little tidbits about herself here and there, and they were piling up.
Considering I’d already crossed a couple of lines with how I behaved around her, resulting in my feeling like a dumbass, I didn’t wanna go any further by getting too personal—unless she showed interest. Which she fucking didn’t.
Not an ounce of it. And I had to respect that. She had her priorities in order.
Good for her and so on.
But my ego was fucking bruised.
I’d never chased anyone a day in my life. I’d never had to.
Maybe everything was changing these days. Not only was I becoming an afterthought to my own staff, but my dating life had never been worse. I kept attracting women I had no interest in, and the one I did find interesting had her eyes set on something else.
I’d feel a lot better if she weren’t so sharp, so witty, and so goddamn beautiful.
I loved talking to her. Although, I had to hold back.
After parading around shirtless like an idiot, thinking I’d get her attention, I’d had it.
I’d be her PT and nothing else. I hadn’t commented on her hair and that I liked her new highlights.
I hadn’t asked about her fiancé and how he’d died. I hadn’t—
A knock on the door shook the intrusive thoughts, and I cleared my throat and straightened in my seat.
“Come in,” I said. I assumed it was Laurie with my lunch. I had back-to-back online coaching sessions until three, so I’d be stuck in my office most of the day.
Sure enough, it was her.
“Your salad, sir. They were out of chicken and turkey, so I went with a tuna steak.”
“Thanks. That’ll be great.” I accepted the container and a bottle of water. “Have you seen Natalie Nolan today?”
“Yeah, she’s in the pool,” she replied.
Goddammit. My next session started in ten minutes, and I had to eat too.
“All right, thank you,” I said.
Laurie walked out again, and I lifted the lid on my takeout. Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, red lentils, a low-fat lemon and chili dressing, a big tuna steak that looked too well-done, and fresh herbs.
If my brothers could see me now…
I suppressed a sigh and called my mother.
She answered on the third ring. “Hey, sweetie! I was just thinking about you.”
“Hey, Ma.” I dug out a proper fork from my desk drawer, ’cause fuck wood utensils. “How are you?”
“It’s a good day,” she replied firmly. “Have you bought anything for Jayden yet?”
It was on my list. The kid’s birthday party was this Saturday. It was Thursday today, so…it was too late to order something from . I wasn’t that much of a gambler.
“Not yet, but I’m heading down to Cedar with Avery and Elise tomorrow,” I answered. “Lias stole my idea to get him Rollerblades, so I’m gonna get him a crossbow instead.”
I knew it was a gift Darius would approve of, because we had the same old man. Pop had raised us to embrace hobbies that improved skills in speed, accuracy, strength, and coordination.
“Should a nine-year-old play with a crossbow?” Ma asked carefully.
I snorted softly and chewed on a mouthful of dry tuna. “Ryan and I got our first crossbows before we started school.”
She sighed. “But, thankfully, times have changed.”
“Darius hasn’t.” I grinned. “He will definitely approve.”
“That’s hardly reassuring,” Ma muttered. “Now, what can I do for you?”
Feed me.
“You got an extra plate for dinner?” I wondered. “I’m not in the mood for chicken and broccoli tonight.”
“Oh, of course, honey! Always. We eat at seven, and we’re havin’ pork chops with mashed potatoes and gravy.”
Fuck yeah.
I arrived at the gym early the following morning. I’d matched with someone on Tinder who’d kept her potential for all of two minutes, before she’d asked for my goddamn sign so she could determine if we were compatible.
Not that it fucking mattered. I hadn’t swiped on anyone since Natalie had gotten stuck in my head, and now I felt like I might as well delete the apps.
My morning workout didn’t brighten my mood enough, so I was still irritated when Natalie walked in at five minutes to nine.
I dragged a towel over my face and then reached for my tee while she signed in at the front desk.
Once she came closer, it looked like she was in a bad mood too.
“Good morning.” I headed over to the treadmills where we’d log some new results.
“I beg to differ.” She dropped her bag next to the machine she usually picked, and she made a face to herself before she turned to me. “I should warn you that Shark Week begins tomorrow, and I’m already cranky.”
“Duly noted.” I knew what questions to ask her, in other words. “Do you get bad cramps?”
“Let me guess—you’re educated in that too.”
Yup, she was extra feisty today. “More than that, I have two baby sisters who don’t mince words,” I replied.
Willow and Elise were significantly younger than the rest of us, and they’d still had the ability to scare the shit out of us once they’d hit puberty. Ever since then, we either gave them a wide berth during those days, or we walked around with chocolate in our pockets.
Natalie changed into her running shoes and tied them. “My cramps aren’t terrible, but my cravings are.”
Ah. Made sense. It was common.
“I can help you set up a more lenient structure for those days,” I offered.
She glanced over at me. “Really?”
“Of course.” I turned on the display for the treadmill and picked one of the easy programs. “Hop on.”
She complied and bit her lip. “I’m sorry I was a bitch.”
I smiled. Bitch was a strong word. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not,” she sighed. The slow walk began, and she gathered her hair in a haphazard bun. “I woke up pissed because I dreamed about cake all fucking night. It’s pathetic.”
Pathetic was also a very strong word.
“So we both had shitty mornings. We can turn that around now,” I said.
“What made your morning shitty?” she asked.
I waved it off dismissively. “More bullshit from the dating scene. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna give up soon.”
“Oh. That bad?”
I nodded, reluctant to say more. The goal was to keep things professional.
Natalie smirked a little. “Did a Canadian spend the night?”
“Ha!” Okay, that was funny. I chuckled and shook my head. “No. I spent five minutes messaging with someone who believes our horoscopes matter.”
“Oh God. I know so many people who turn their signs into their identities.”
Yeah, it was weird.
“Okay, so no date for her, I take it,” she prodded.
“No. I think I’m done for a while.” I eyed the display.
“I went out for drinks with someone last week, and I wanted to stab myself with a fork. Ten years ago, I could pick whoever I wanted, and we’d at least have something in common.
I don’t know what’s happened—and it ain’t me. I’m everyone’s type.”
Her hard work was paying off. The seconds ticked by on the display, and she wasn’t remotely out of breath yet.
“Did you just say that?”
Say what? I met her gaze and noticed she looked confused. “What?”
She widened her eyes. “That you’re everyone’s type?”
I furrowed my brow. “But I am.” Wait, was that arrogant too? Christ. Fuck that. “I have a steady job, I’m reliable, loyal, I’m driven, fairly social, no baggage, and I’m objectively attractive.”
Confusion turned to disbelief, and she shook her head and faced forward as the program picked up the pace.
“You can’t say those things to me when I’m PMSing, Ethan,” she stated. “You are, without a single shred of doubt, the best PT I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to lose you when I remember that my verbal filter is down for a nap.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I was the one confused now, because what was she talking about? I hadn’t said anything controversial. It wasn’t fucking conceited to know your strengths and weaknesses.
“You’re not gonna lose me as your PT,” I chuckled. “I’m not easily offended. Say what you wanna say. We promised each other honesty, didn’t we?”
She huffed, getting a tad out of breath now.
“You want my honesty? All right. Let’s be honest. First of all, being objectively handsome is great if you want your face in a fashion magazine.
Attraction is subjective. Second of all—” She took a few breaths and gripped the handlebars.
“Second, having a type may start with tall, dark, and handsome, but it ends with chemistry and shared interests or views. If your date can’t connect with you, the fact that she finds you attractive becomes irrelevant. ”
I folded my arms over my chest as a tightness spread in my gut. Maybe she had a valid point or two, but I had experience.
“Was there a third of all?” I drawled.
The pace was increased again, and she shot me a look that was so unfiltered and full of fire that I knew I was about to get it.
“Not everyone is interested in a pretentious gym owner who shaves his chest,” she bit out.