Chapter Four
Magnolia
T-MINUS SIX MONTHS
The door swung open before my key hit the lock. Vance stood there, shirtless, beads of sweat rolling down the golden planes of his chest, catching on the sparse blonde hairs before tracing out the lines of his eight-pack.
Holy Christ, the man needed to start wearing a shirt when he worked out. Loose athletic shorts clung to his lean hips, dipping down just enough to show the edge of his tan line.
In the three months since he'd been back from rehab, Vance had transformed. Gone was the dissolute playboy with the sallow skin and bloodshot eyes.
Before his drinking had gotten out of control, Vance had always been into fitness. Now that he was sober, he'd taken it to a new extreme.
I got it. He had to do something with the darkness that had driven him to alcohol. It was still there. He just channeled it into his art and his workouts.
The result was a studio filled with pieces and a body I couldn't tear my eyes from. I almost didn't notice the bag in his hands as I walked in and he closed the door behind me.
Vance pushed the bag toward me. "Here, take this and get changed. We have a meeting at noon."
I took the bag, noticing the label of a local sports gear shop in the Highlands. I didn't know what was in the bag, but it couldn't be good.
I wanted a cup of coffee, stat. I did not want a bag of sporting goods.
"What's this?" I asked, trying to push the bag back into Vance's hands. He stepped away and shook his head.
"You've been dodging me for a month," he said. "You're going running with me."
"No way," I said. "I don't run. I am not a runner. I have no interest in being a runner. Your fitness kick is great and all, but don't drag me along with you."
"Nope, not accepting excuses. I've got everything you need. Running clothes, brand-new shoes, and I even got a step tracker and set it up. You spend too much time sitting. It's not good for you."
"Vance, I'm a grown woman," I said, trying to hand him back the bag. "I don't need anyone to tell me what to do."
"I let you talk me into those kale shakes, didn't I? Even when I was still drinking? Do you have any idea how disgusting they tasted when I was hung over? But even then, I knew you were worried about me, so I drank them anyway. Every day."
"It's not the same," I protested, knowing it was the same, but I really didn't want to go running. Did I mention I hated running?
"It's exactly the same," Vance said. "You stopped going to yoga classes and you've been depressed. And you sit almost all day. You need to get some exercise, and since I get way too much, you're coming with me. Think of it as multitasking. We'll talk business while we run."
I burst out laughing at the idea that I'd be able to talk and run at the same time. Gasp for breath and run, maybe. Carry on a conversation about business? No way in hell.
Vance's blue eyes narrowed on me, and I knew it was useless to argue. Easier just to go running with him than to try to talk him out of it. The same determination that had carried him into sobriety was now focused on me. Crap. I knew him well enough to know I was wasting my time trying to resist.
"Fine," I said, "but I'm really getting sick of people telling me I'm fat."
I bit my tongue the second the words were out.
I hadn't meant to say that. I knew Vance didn't mean to hurt my feelings, but I was a little sensitive about the whole issue.
I didn't like to admit that the reason I stopped going to yoga was Brayden's reaction to seeing me in a tank top and yoga pants. After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about the other women in class looking at my giant ass every time I bent over.
I tried to pretend I hadn't said a word and went to walk past Vance to change in the bathroom when he grabbed my arm.
"You are not fat, Magnolia. This is not about weight. This is about you coming with me so we can both get some exercise. That's all. Whatever that twat has been saying that's messing up your head, don't pin it on me."
Automatically, I said, “Don't call him a twat. It's coarse."
"Did he make some comment about you being anything less than gorgeous?" Vance asked, his arms crossed over his chest.
I tried not to notice the way the position made his biceps bulge. I shrugged and tried to walk past him. He stepped in my path, blocking me.
"Magnolia, did he? Did he say something stupid and shitty that hurt your feelings?"
He already knew the answer. I wished he would stop pushing. Things weren't great with Brayden. I barely saw him lately, and when I did, he felt more like a roommate than a fiancé. That didn't mean I wanted to talk about it with Vance.
"Can we just let it go?" I asked, tugging my arm out of his grip. “I’ll go change and we’ll go for a run, but don't complain when I slow you down."
Thankfully, Vance dropped the subject. I escaped into the bathroom and changed into the clothes Vance had picked out. I should let him shop for me more often. He had great taste.
I pulled out gray leggings with pink and purple wavy vertical stripes that looked streamlined but whimsical.
A matching pink and purple tank top went with the leggings, along with a pink jog bra that would keep my breasts from hitting my chin when we ran.
Of course, everything fit, including the running shoes.
I wasn't too sure about the step tracker, but I fastened it on my wrist anyway. I didn't like the idea of anything monitoring my activity, but I did like apps and gadgets, so I was willing to give it a shot.
I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and left the bathroom, hoping Vance wasn't planning on running that far. If he was, he was destined for disappointment.
My eyes widened as I saw he had a leash on Scout. "Are we bringing the dog? I don't think he runs," I said.
That wasn't entirely accurate. Scout could run, and when he did, he was fast, but that was only for short distances or when it related to getting food.
Running for the sake of running? My dog was no more into that than I was.
I underestimated Scout's devotion to Vance. He trotted happily beside Vance as we headed for the elevator, looking like he went running every day and couldn't wait to hit the pavement.
"That pink looks good on you," Vance said, sounding offhand. His eyes, laser sharp, skimmed me from head to toe with a focus that made me want to squirm. "Pink doesn't always work on redheads, but it's perfect on you."
I flushed and looked away. "It's a little tight," I said, fidgeting. I hadn't worn anything like this since my last trip to yoga class, and I was self-conscious, especially standing next to Vance, who was six feet of chiseled muscle. He still wasn't wearing a shirt.
"It's not too tight," he said. "You look fucking fantastic. I don't know if I can run with a hard on."
"Sexual harassment, Mr. Winters," I said in my headmistress voice. "Behave."
I'm not going to lie and say I didn't appreciate the compliment, but I didn't believe him. The running clothes fit me well, but they were still way too snug on my curvy frame.
"Just being honest." Vance's eyes flicked down to the front of his shorts, and mine couldn't help but follow.
Oh my God.
He wasn't kidding. The long, thick bar of his erection pressed against the flimsy fabric of his running shorts. My cheeks flamed, and my eyes shot to the ceiling of the elevator.
Could you fake an erection? I didn't think so, but I wasn't an expert on male anatomy. Did that mean he really did think I looked good?
Doesn't matter, I told myself. Vance is out of your league, he's your boss, and you're engaged.
I was flattered, but that was as far as it would ever go. I wasn't going to look at the front of his shorts again. Definitely not. Maybe once. I snuck a peek and flushed hot all over again.
"You're going to have to stay behind me. I don't want to watch that bobbing in your shorts while we're running." I was trying for my headmistress voice, but I didn't quite make it.
Instead of crisp, my words were husky.
Vance chuckled. "Okay, but if I'm running behind you, it's not exactly going to go away. Do you know what your ass looks like in those leggings?"
"Yes," I snapped. "Fat. It looks fat."
"If that's what you want to call it," Vance said, still laughing. "My dick disagrees."
I whirled and pointed my finger at him. "You behave, or I'm going right back upstairs and I'm not talking to you for the rest of the day."
Vance raised his hands in defense and gave me his most innocent smile, all charm and sweetness.
"I won't say another word."
He didn't, and after a while, I forgot about the too-tight clothes, my embarrassment, and his hard cock. At first, because we did talk business during the warm-up, and business was always a good distraction.
Then, once we started jogging, I couldn't think of anything but my burning muscles and my oxygen-deprived lungs.
Why would anyone do this voluntarily? It was awful.
Vance took me through intervals of walking and jogging that he told me were the best way to start a running habit. My heart sank at that information. Clearly, he intended for us to do this on a regular basis. Dammit.
I survived the first run. I barely dragged my way through the second and third. I have to admit, once I got the step tracker set up and synced to my phone, I got a kick out of seeing all the miles I was logging. And I couldn't really complain about Vance paying me to work out with him.
In terms of his fitness, it was a waste of his time to run with me. I slowed him down and couldn't go very far, even after a few weeks, but it was his time to waste and it wasn't like I was holding back his program.
These days, he was up every day at dawn, either lifting weights or using the suspension system he'd installed in the roof garden. By the time I showed up in the morning—my start time was now nine—he'd already been working out for a few hours and was ready to wind down with a slow run.
I didn't want to admit it, but after we'd been running together for a few months, I looked forward to it. It wasn't just that Vance was an entertaining companion. I did, truly, feel better.
I don't think I lost any weight since running made me hungry. It also made my body feel good. I even started going back to yoga class. I had decided to agree with Vance.
My ass looked good, and anyone who didn't think so could go to hell.
Vance didn't tease me about the way that I looked after that first run, though I caught him eyeing me more than once with heat in his piercing blue gaze.
I didn't say anything.
I snuck a few glances here and there when I thought he wouldn't catch me. I couldn't help it. If he'd been hot before, now that he'd ditched the alcohol and replaced it with exercise, he was incendiary.
I could manage to keep my eyes off him when he was dressed and we were working, but the shirtless jogging was too much temptation.
I never flirted.
I absolutely never touched.
But I looked.
The muscles, the tattoos, the washboard abs. God damn. A saint would've looked her fill, and I was no saint.
Ironically, Brayden didn't like my new exercise habit. He was still pushing for plastic surgery, liposuction at the very least. Not going to happen. There were days, a lot of them, when I wasn't sure why we were still together.
Relationship inertia.
I wasn't in love with him. And I'd already realized I couldn't marry him. I was desperate for a family—I could be honest with myself about that—but I couldn't marry a man I didn't love. Especially when I wasn't even sure I liked him. But I couldn't seem to bring myself to do anything about it.
I thought about telling him it was over. Then I thought about how empty the house would be when he was gone.
I'd imagine what it would mean to be alone. Really, truly alone. I always ended up not doing anything. I was letting life carry me along, too scared to shake things up.
There's a problem with that. If you don't take control of your own life, eventually, someone will take it from you. Then you're stuck dealing with the fallout from the mess you let them create.
That was a lesson I'd have to learn the hard way.