Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Why was it that working off the foods one enjoyed was a thousand times harder than what it took to eat it in the first place?
After a brief but thorough workout using the weight machines, she’d moved to the rowing machine.
And sure, ten minutes on that mightn’t seem long, but for a girl who was starting out in the fitness world she had to make it manageable.
There was no point going so hard that her body protested so much it convinced her to give up.
She’d gone down that road before. And yes, already her muscles were protesting being forced to work, her abs screeching that they really didn’t like being used, thank you very much.
But apparently exercise was good for her, so she’d beat these muscles into submission, one way or the other.
Rain pattered against the gym’s window, the clear skies of the weekend feeling far away.
She moved to the exercise bike, tempted to check her phone once again.
But already in the past three days of attending the gym she’d discovered that being hunched over on her phone was not exactly conducive to staying focused on the job.
Which basically had been her problem. She was far too prone to thinking a million different things but not following through on any. Did that mean she had ADHD?
But it was like her mind couldn’t help it, filled as it was with rabbit trails that wove and twisted, one idea sparking another that often led her far away from her original intention.
So the fact she’d actually made a decision—train at the gym for half an hour each day—and stuck to it for the past three days felt like a huge win.
Of course, she wasn’t doing this at the same time each day, more like fitting it around her other duties.
But she was doing it. Even if she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she was doing some of these exercises completely correctly.
Still, it was good to have a new focus. To prove that she wasn’t as wishy-washy as some people—like Aunty Aine—seemed to think.
How could Aunty Aine think that Aisling wouldn’t make a good teacher?
And while teaching hadn’t ever felt like a calling since she was young, Aunty Aine’s words had goaded her, daring Aisling to prove her wrong.
She pumped up the resistance level a little more.
People had always been quick to judge her, to write her off as silly just because she didn’t have Fiona or Colin’s steely focus, or had sometimes let her emotions get the better of her.
Okay, well that last one she probably had let her emotions get the upper hand a little too often but it didn’t mean she couldn’t exhibit self-control.
“Look at all the self-control you’ve been doing this week! You’ve barely eaten any chocolate.”
And boy, hadn’t she noticed. And others had noticed too.
Chocolate seemed to have a sedative effect, making her a nicer person than who she was right now.
Still, one couldn’t get fit by constantly stuffing her face with bad foods and hope to lose that bit of softness around her middle that hadn’t been there a couple of years ago.
She sucked down some water, her legs screaming at her to stop. But no, she’d keep going, even if it killed her.
Speaking of being killed, where had Andy been? She’d barely seen him since Monday at breakfast. It was like he’d dropped off the planet, even though he hadn’t checked out, and his room was booked until Sunday. She’d checked. Maybe he’d just perfected the art of disappearing when she was around.
She pressed her lips together. Did he really dislike her that much?
Was it her looks or her personality that had turned him off?
Because she could’ve sworn that he liked her on Sunday.
Why else would he have said yes to lunch with her and her family?
So what had happened to change his mind?
Was it his friend? Something else? Or had she just naturally managed to get things wrong and turn him off all by herself?
She sucked in more water, cranked up the resistance a little more. By now her legs were like jelly. And given that this wasn’t her normal, maybe she should ease back a little.
She slowed down the machine, her head a little woozy. Oh. This wasn’t good.
She glanced around the gym but it was empty, as was usual at this time of day. She reached for her phone. Missed it. Tried again. Missed once more. The next minute she was sliding from the seat, her muscles like water, unable to support her, as she scraped her leg along the apparatus. “Ow!”
The next moment the room got blurry, then she was seeing stars, before blackness swallowed her entirely.
* * *
He knew he should have paid closer attention to the weather forecast. Andy hurried his pace, running under trees as much as he could.
The past few days he’d run some of the more distant trails of the resort, seeing the sights, getting a good burn in his muscles like he used to.
Too much sitting around was a recipe for wallowing, which he couldn’t afford to do.
Not when he’d done so much of that before.
He’d thought today would be a great opportunity to run the Heron Trail to another island, which apparently was a habitat for various birds.
Just hadn’t counted on the weather not cooperating.
But still, he was nearly there, nearly home.
Then he could change from these sweat-drenched, rain-soaked clothes and have a shower.
He steered away from the water, up some slippery steps and drew closer to the hotel.
He didn’t want to go straight inside—these muddy shoes wouldn’t make him a welcome guest on that parquetry floor.
Plus he really didn’t mind avoiding Aisling and the temptation her presence always seemed to provoke.
He had no intention of following Grady’s advice, but he knew it was wise to avoid her as much as possible.
Seeing her made him want to pause, to linger, talk, and see if the lightness of spirit she evoked within him would strike again.
See? Tempting. And not wise to pursue. Especially for a man with a plan who knew he had little to offer, let alone emotional strength.
And given she was often on the reception desk he’d be very happy to avoid that space as much as possible. Especially with these muddy shoes.
He neared the glass walls of the gym then paused, as something seemed different to the last time he’d passed. He peered in, hands either side of the glass. Was that someone on the floor? It was hard to tell, seeing they were partly obscured, lying behind an exercise bike.
He banged on the window. “Hey, are you okay?”
The person—he couldn’t see them too clearly—didn’t move. Okay, so maybe they weren’t.
He drew out his keycard and accessed the gym. Where were the staff? Why hadn’t anyone realised someone was in there, quite possibly with a serious medical emergency?
Then he realised who it was, and his heartrate doubled. “Ash?” No wonder there was no other staff in here. She was the staff. “Ash?” He knelt beside her. “Can you hear me?”
She remained still, a cut bleeding on her head.
Lord, help! He gently shook her, and she slowly stirred, but her eyes remained closed.
He exhaled. First aid protocol said he should try to move her into the recovery position, but not when there was the risk of a head injury.
And considering that cut, he didn’t want to risk moving her.
She was on her side anyway, which made things a little awkward, dressed as she was in active wear that was tight and black and with a scooped neck.
So he drew off his jacket and draped it loosely around her, gently stroking her arm as he bent close.
“Aisling? Ash, can you hear me?”
Her dark lashes fluttered, then slowly lifted, her gaze hazy and unsure.
He realised how close his face was to hers, that he could see freckles poking past the makeup she usually wore. That his nearness meant her lips were closer than ever before. “Ash?”
She blinked. Blinked again. Refocused on him. Then her lips tilted up the slightest in the corners. “Are… are you a dream?”
Her words slammed into his chest. He’d never been anyone’s dream. Not even Greta’s, it seemed. So for Aisling to say that, out of it as she was, felt a little too poignant, a little too personal, like she’d unconsciously pressed a bruise on his soul he’d never known existed until this moment.
But no. Now wasn’t the time for that. She was injured. Obviously not thinking too clearly. She needed medical attention. “Hey, Ash, you had a fall.”
“Did I?” She blinked again. “Wait, this is real? You’re not just in my dream?”
Did that mean she’d dreamed about him? His heartbeat spiked. “This is real,” he said softly. “You’re in the gym, and it looks like you had a fall.” He gently touched her forehead. “You’ve got a cut just above here.”
“I do?” She gingerly moved to touch it.
“Hey, be careful. You might’ve injured something else, and I don’t want you to worsen anything.”
The cut had dried now, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a first aid kit and attend to it properly. There had to be one nearby, but he didn’t want to risk leaving her to look for it.
She winced. “My head really hurts.”
“I bet it does,” he said sympathetically. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“You’re really nice,” she murmured.
He swallowed a smile. “You’re pretty nice too.”
Her lips lifted, her green eyes holding him prisoner. “Do you think I’m pretty?”
“Yes.” She must still be out of it, asking a question like that, but he didn’t need to think about that for even half a second. He’d once thought Greta’s Arctic blonde looks was his type, but now he realised he was a fan of something warmer. Something like fire.
Her lips curved higher, her eyes closing again. Which wasn’t good. “Hey, Ash, I need you to keep your eyes open.”
“But I’m so tired.”
“I know.” He touched her cheek. So soft. “I need you to stay awake in case you have a concussion.”