2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Dawson
I’m in the wrong place. It’s the only logical answer. Or I’m dreaming. I bite my tongue and sharp pressure stings my mouth. Definitely not sleeping then. The schedule said bootcamp. I triple checked before dropping Finn off at school this morning. I feel like I walked into the women’s locker room. All eyes are on me, and I don’t like the attention.
I should have just lifted weights today.
Finishing my burpees, I jump up, staring at the instructor, waiting for a bigger challenge. “All done, ma’am.”
She grimaces briefly before a Cheshire grin appears on her lips. The instructor might think it’s scary, but it’s not. She’s too pretty with her shiny blond hair and nicely shaped figure that’s hard to miss in her tight tank top and short bike shorts. The color of her eyes reminds me of raw honey in a glass jar on a sunny windowsill. They’re appealing and completely unintimidating.
“Come on over,” she says, waving for me to follow her.
Right. I’m here to work out (the jury is still out on whether I’ll get a good session in). Not stare at some woman’s enticing eyes.
She points to the mid-range dumbbells in the corner of the room. “Ten reps of full biceps curls, ten triceps extensions, and ten shoulder presses. Take a thirty-second rest, then cycle back through until I say stop.”
She watches me pick up twenty-five-pound dumbbells. Is she impressed? Not impressed? Why do I even care?
Because she’s beautiful, and you want to impress her. Incorrect. I want nothing from her except a great workout.
I extend my weights, tuck my elbows into my side, and pump out ten reps with the same speed up and down. Keeping the same weight, I start right into working my triceps.
The instructor stays where she is, scrutinizing me. I’m comfortable in a gym, but having her openly stare is unnerving. The back of my neck flashes with heat that has nothing to do with exercising. I want to ask her if there’s something I can help her with, but the words won’t form. Instead, I do my best to ignore the fact that she’s observing me like she’s a prison guard.
Finishing the triceps extensions, I pick up heavier dumbbells for my shoulders. Setting my feet, I push the weights above my head, blowing out a breath as I extend the dumbbells above me.
She slow claps.
Startled at her sarcastic praise, I almost lose my balance, but I tighten my core and recover before hurting myself. Yeesh, that was close. Why, exactly, is she clapping ?
“Well done, Newbie.” She eyes me appreciatively. “Your form is excellent.”
Yeah, well, blowing off steam in the gym during a six-month long divorce will do that for you. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Sweat pours down my body in rivulets.
I take it back.
All of it.
The instructor kicked my butt. My endorphins are running at top speed. So is my heart. After the rotations, we moved into a full-body Tabata workout with the step. Every other participant in the class had zero risers. Me? Coach put on the maximum number. When she did it, I snickered. The step didn’t scare me. These were what Mom used back in the nineties. How hard could they really be?
Oh, how wrong I was. At one point, I was legitimately concerned these older women might show me up.
How the instructor talked during the entire workout is beyond me. I’m puffing like I’m being chased by a horde of plague doctors, with those creepy goggles and beak masks.
“Newbie,” the teacher says, coming over to where I’m stretching my arms. “Good work today. You really showed up and proved yourself.”
I tilt my head forward, acknowledging her compliment. It’s silly that I’m this flattered over simple praise, but I am. “My name is Dawson. And thank you.”
“Well, Dawson, I hope to see you in one of my classes again soon.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond. To tell her I only came this morning because I don’t start my new job until Tuesday.
She walks over to a few of the other participants. I’m not sure why, maybe because she’s beautiful and kicked my derriere like she promised, but I’m disappointed she didn’t stick around and chat with me longer. I don’t have any friends in my new neighborhood and after the past year, I could really use one.
Women aren’t what you need to focus on, man.
Right. Finn’s my number one priority, and that’s it.
Besides, it’s not like I’ll ever see her again.