Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
Tegan
Sir. I could see lust spark to life in those vivid yellow eyes when I called him that.
What other names would he like?
Maybe daddy. I could get down with that. Especially if spanking was involved.
I felt so confident after our photo exchange this morning.
There was just something about Atlas that did it for me.
He was so calm and self-assured as he walked me through the different machines and exercises we’d be doing.
Part of it was probably because of how long he’d been doing this, but I also got the impression that it was just Atlas’s overall demeanor. He was so attentive.
And hot.
“That sound like a plan, Tegan?” Atlas’s deep growl of a voice brought me out of my thoughts as he passed me two ten-pound dumbbells.
How was I supposed to focus when his biceps kept flexing like that? For obvious reasons, he’d started my weightlifting program with arms.
“Uh, can you show me one more time?” I asked, letting the weights hang at my sides.
He picked up another dumbbell and repeated the motion. It was such a light weight that he was flying through my motions. I wasn’t learning very much, but I really enjoyed watching him.
“Maybe one more time?” I teased.
He laughed, humoring me and doing it one more time. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I almost pinched my thumb and pointer finger together. “Just a little bit.”
He set down the dumbbell and shook his head. “You’re too much. Now, go on and give it a try.”
I kept my elbows close to my body, slowly curling my arms upward. I made sure I took my time, feeling my muscles engage instead of just speeding through the movement.
“Am I doing this right?” I asked, doing another rep. I could already feel the strain on my muscles.
“You’re doing great,” he said, “but remember to breathe.”
“It’s hard.” It came out whinier than I meant it to, but I was struggling.
Atlas laughed. “It is hard, but think about how good you’re going to feel when you can lift something you couldn’t before. Or when you flex your arm and see some definition.”
“I want to be able to lift heavy things.”
“And I’m gonna make sure you get to that point. Safely. The key to that is having good form.”
I did another rep, remembering to exhale as I brought the weights up to my shoulders.
“That’s it. Great job,” he praised.
His enthusiasm and positivity were contagious. It made me want to try my hardest, to give this my all. He made me feel like I could. I bet people loved working with him as their trainer.
“So”—I sucked in a breath, curled my arms, and slowly exhaled while lowering the weights—“how long have you worked as a personal trainer?”
His eyes traveled up from my arms to my face, so he could look at me while we talked. “Since I was in college. I worked in a gym part-time while I was finishing my kinesiology degree. I had a scholarship but I needed some spending money. How many was that?”
For a second I was tempted to lie and say I’d done four—but what if this was some sort of test? “Three.”
“Good girl. Give me three more.”
My brain short-circuited. He couldn’t just hit me with a good girl like that.
I was supposed to be focusing.
I took a deep breath to regain my focus and did another curl, really feeling the burn in my biceps this time. “And what made you decide to open a gym?”
He was quiet for a second, like he was thinking about how to answer this without giving too much away. “It seemed like the next rational step.”
“And you thought Briar Glenn was the perfect place.”
“Not at first, actually. I, uh, I was heading to Rock Harbor to check out a property and took the exit for Briar Glenn on a whim. Came into town, loved it, and when I found out about the revitalization grants, it seemed like the perfect place to open a gym. I even managed to talk some of my friends into moving here, too.”
I did another rep. “You convinced your friends to move here?”
“I did.”
That was some dedication. They must be close.
“What are they like?” I asked, trying to get as much information out of this training session as I could.
“Well, there’s Fallon. He’s this annoying ladies’ man griffin. We’ve been friends since we were kids, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get rid of him. And I already told you about Cyrus.”
“Is he the kraken?” I asked, remembering what he’d told me about the saltwater pool.
Atlas nodded. “Yep. That’s him. We met in college. He shared a campus apartment with Fallon and me. At first he hated us, but eventually we won him over. Cyrus is also the reason the gym logo has a tentacle on it.”
That was supersweet. It seemed like Atlas was the type to go above and beyond for the people he cared about. I wondered if that included training me.
“It sounds like you guys are really close.”
“We are. I’m lucky to have them,” he said. “Especially since—”
I did one last rep and let my arms fall to my sides. “Since?”
“Just—since I would have been alone here.” The way he hesitated made me think there was more to the story than that. I wasn’t going to press him, but hopefully he’d tell me in time.
“And what about you, Miss Baker?” he asked.
“Well, my story isn’t nearly as interesting. My grandma owned the bakery, then my mom, and when she retired, I took over.”
“Did you go to a special pastry school or did you learn on the job?”
“I learned a lot on the job, but I completed a pastry chef program at the community college in Rock Harbor. All of those years working for my mom definitely gave me an advantage, though.”
“I worked at my family business, too. My parents own a hardware store.”
“So I take it you’re good at fixing things?” I asked. Hardware store employee to gym owner was a pretty interesting pipeline.
“I know a thing or two,” he said nonchalantly.
“Cake transporter, personal trainer, business owner, and handyman. That’s quite the résumé.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “What can I say? I’m a wolven of many talents.”
“You know—there was something I wanted to ask you about.”
“Ask away. I’m an open book.”
“If I remember correctly, your website said you were also a bodybuilder.”
“Okay, stalker.” He laughed. “Did you dig up my social security number, too?”
“Shut up!” I giggled. “I was curious! I couldn’t help myself.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “I was a competitive bodybuilder.”
“And what was that like?” I asked.
He put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “You know, you should be doing your next set.”
“We can take it slow,” I suggested. “I don’t want to be too sore.”
“Fine,” he relented. “Let’s take a water break and I’ll tell you about it.”
We set the weights back on the rack and headed over to where we’d set our towels and water bottles. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and took a long drink while Atlas did the same. Well, sort of the same thing. He hadn’t worked up a sweat.
“Okay, spill,” I said.
“When I was in my twenties, I competed. I was doing two to three competitions a year, and I usually placed pretty well.”
“Five-time physique gold medalist,” I added.
“Yes.” He laughed. “Five-time physique gold medalist. I enjoyed it, but it was a ton of work. Lots of time in the gym, super- strict diet, and when I was cutting for competitions, I was just constantly hungry. Food was all I could think about. Then I’d compete, go back to my normal physique, then repeat the entire process all over again. ”
“And you’d do that two to three times a year?”
“Yep.”
Honestly, that sounded like a miserable existence. I was all for people chasing their goals, but there was no way I had something like that in me.
“Do you miss it?” I asked.
“Sometimes. But see”—he leaned in, almost whispering in my ear—“I met this really cute baker, and if I want her to keep hanging out with me, I have to keep eating the cupcakes she brings me.”
My breath caught in my chest. Cute. He called me cute.
Before I could come up with a response, he sauntered away, smiling at me like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Why don’t we finish with some light cardio?”