Chapter 6 #2
Whoa. All right. Shit. That one packed a punch.
I kept my expression composed, but fuck me if I couldn’t feel anger brewing.
It wasn’t the first time recently someone had indicated it was ridiculous of me to shave my chest, and it poked at something within me that I didn’t wanna deal with. It pissed me off. She pissed me off.
“Okay, I’m done—I can’t,” she panted and smacked the stop button. “This day can go to hell.” She bent over and planted her hands on her thighs as she tried to regain her breath. “I’m sorry for what I said. I fucking hate being mean.”
I swallowed and pushed aside my personal problems to be what she was paying me to be.
“I asked you to be honest,” I stated. And I didn’t regret it either. Maybe it was something I’d needed to hear. I was undecided. “Don’t worry about it. When was the last time you had a slow day?”
As far as I knew, she came to the gym every day—which was convenient since she lived right across the street, and I knew she didn’t tucker herself out every workout.
Because she wasn’t supposed to. And since she’d said she hated walking for the sake of it, at least in the beginning, a trip to the gym was just as good.
Everybody needed some form of daily exercise.
“Yesterday,” she mumbled. “I walked for half an hour and skipped strength training and swimming.”
“What about work?” I pressed. “Do you work every day? Do you take weekends off?”
She sighed heavily and straightened. “It’s possible I work too much.”
Shocker. As business owners, we tended to stress ourselves out.
“In that case, we’ll meet up in my office on Monday to hammer out a better routine for you,” I replied.
“Getting your health back is much more than sweating and rebuilding muscle mass. You need proper sleep and recovery. Insulin resistance can sneak up on you at an earlier stage if you’re under a lot of pressure too. Not everything is about what you eat.”
“Ugh. Can you stop being nice after I insulted you to your face?” She grimaced and climbed off the treadmill to grab her stuff. “I’m just gonna go home and throw a pity party on the couch. And eat some fucking carrot sticks.”
I winced, torn between amusement and annoyance and…yeah, it wasn’t a good day for me either. Clearly. But my job came first when she was around, and she needed to chill sometimes.
“Natalie, you can also buy something you actually want,” I said pointedly.
That sure as fuck gave me her attention, and she looked over at me.
“Based on your height, age, and activity level, we estimated that your maintenance level sits at around 1800 calories a day, and you’re on a significant deficit now.
Nothing bad’s gonna happen if you add a few extra hundred calories on your worst days. What’re you craving?”
“A big fat burger,” she whispered.
I chuckled. “So, go get your big fat burger. And next month, you’ll be more prepared.
The week before your period, we’ll crank up your workouts.
” I paused. “It’s not the best analogy, but I think you’ll get what I’m saying.
It’s better to do the time before you do the crime.
Then you can indulge without feeling guilty—and without postponing what will balance out the indulgences.
” I said that to clients all the time, especially to the rush of new members who came in after New Year’s.
Health wasn’t about what you ate at Christmas.
It was about what you ate the rest of the year.
I nodded toward the exit. “I’ll walk you out. Take it easy this weekend, okay?”
“I’ll do my best. Thank you. I…” She sighed again and kept her head down as we walked through the gym. “Be honest. Are you judging me? Because I am.”
I shook my head. “I judge people for a lot of things, but not for hitting the pause button when they have too much going on.” Our time was up, so a ridiculously long speech had to wait—but trust, I could talk about this forever.
“You have no reason to be hard on yourself for this, Natalie. Decades of marketing fast carbs and sugar as rewards and pick-me-ups have left one hell of a mark on the human race. Our brains light up when we see pizza, burgers, cake, and sweets.” I opened the door for her and stepped outside.
“On the other hand, I know how addictions work, and once your body’s gotten used to receiving less of all that processed shit, you won’t want as much of it either.
But you gotta be patient. Forming new habits and getting rid of old ones takes time. ”
“Makes sense,” she murmured. She stepped out too, and she peered up at me with a rueful smile. “What do you judge people for?”
I cracked a smirk and scratched my arm absently. “In the spirit of honesty, I don’t waste time on judging people, but I’ll admit to being bothered by those who don’t even try. Those who believe in quick fixes and magic pills. And those who rely entirely too much on weak excuses.”
She grinned a little. “What’s a weak excuse?”
I laughed through my nose. “Skipping exercise because of bad weather.”
That made her laugh too, thankfully. “I hear you. If I really don’t wanna go out in the rain, I can work out at home or something.”
Exactly. She got it. “There you go. But it’s also about balance, you know? If I work out five days a week, and I look out the window on Sunday to see it pouring down, maybe I’ll say fuck it—and that’s fine. It’s when you find an excuse every day that it becomes a problem.”
“Agreed. You make a lot of sense most of the time.”
I liked her cheekiness a bit too much. It made me wanna stand here all day and keep talking to her.
“Most of the time,” I echoed with a laugh.
The sass faded, and she nudged me with her elbow as she shouldered her bag. “Thanks for today.”
“You got it. I’ll text you tonight. Rest up and enjoy that burger.”
“Oh my God, I will.” She beamed and looked both ways before crossing the street.
That night, I tried to find her on social media again—to no avail. Did she really only have accounts for her business? I didn’t even know if she ran them, and I couldn’t find a single personal photo.
I took a swig of my tea and leaned back against the headboard, as my thumb got a workout scrolling through her Instagram account.
Models wearing her jewelry, announcements for new collections, more models, one or two professionally taken pictures of Natalie—flattering angles and black-and-white filters—models, models, models.
A wide range of models, I should say. I paused at one black-and-white candid, taken at a photo shoot, of Natalie and a plus-size model.
Laughter frozen in time, with blurry figures moving in the background.
Christ, she was beautiful. She had charisma and charm—and that fucking sass.
“Not everyone is interested in a pompous gym owner who shaves his chest.”
I felt my mood tank in an instant, and I tossed the phone next to me on the bed.
People didn’t fucking get it.
I threw a quick glare at the razor when I showered the following morning.
At some point soon, I had to sit down and make a few decisions, because I was done with doubts.
More and more lately, I felt like I was maintaining a facade I didn’t believe in anymore, despite what I told others.
My brothers, mainly. Because they were blunt enough to give me shit about my life choices. Actually, my sisters too.
After getting out of the shower, I dried off semi-hurriedly before heading to my closet. The flannels taunted me. Today would’ve been the perfect occasion to wear one, but I’d catch shit for that too. Everybody would notice, because my family was fucking nosy.
I picked out a pair of nice light gray slacks and a dark blue button-down instead.
A watch too. The blue Hamilton my folks had given me when I turned forty last year…
You’re over forty. Deal with it.
I clenched my jaw. As I fastened the watch, I realized I had to step on it. It’d become my job to make sure Lias showed up for family functions, so that meant I was taking the mother of all detours.
While I finished getting ready, I sent messages to my clients.
Saturdays were easy, because I didn’t ask much.
Weekends were sacred to many, and I merely wanted to remind them that I was there if they needed anything, not point fingers or make them feel guilty for possibly indulging. Or overindulging, in some cases.
Then I grabbed my nephew’s gift and walked out the door.
Natalie responded when I got behind the wheel of my truck.
Good morning to you too. Today’s gonna suck. I know that already. Cramps have set in, and I’m a danger to mankind.
I smirked to myself and buckled in, and I couldn’t resist…
Mankind or humankind?
Her reply was instant.
I said what I said.
I laughed and shook my head. She was fucking funny. And she was typing again too.
Lias could wait thirty seconds extra. We were likely gonna be early to the party anyway.
I downloaded two dating apps, btw. Mostly because I was bored. I may not be everyone’s type like you are, but maybe someone will be interested in the future :)
And she stopped being funny.
I backed out of my parking spot and headed north toward Westslope and the mountains.
Go fucking figure, she was gonna date now. Of course she’d have men interested in her. She was adorable, gorgeous, cute, and had an ass that wouldn’t quit. A perfect rack too. And yeah, thick thighs I wouldn’t mind having wrapped around my hips.
For being as obsessed with fitness as I was—or maybe had been—I’d never been drawn exclusively to women who had that in common with me. I got hooked on attitude, intelligence, a sharp sense of humor, and…fine, I was an ass man. And legs. Thighs. Something to dig my fingers into properly—
I cleared my throat and adjusted myself.
Fuck her.
Miles and miles of dirt roads later, I was halfway up Coho Pass, and I drove past the sign welcoming me to Big Jake’s Expedition—camping and recreation. Lias’s world.