4 - Hunter #2
"Hold your horses, Golden Boy," Brock said, his arm a steel security gate as his hand pressed firmly into my chest. "Look at her. Look at the way she’s holding her ground. Most people shrink back when Dane rolls up his sleeves or gives them that no-bullshit glare. But she’s giving it right back to him. "
"Brock, come on." I tried to swat his arm away but I may as well have been using a feather instead of all my upper body strength.
I kept my voice low, intensely aware of a couple of gym-goers walking past the lobby toward the locker rooms. "You know he can be a pain in the ass. Or do you want another customer complaint on our hands?”
“Don’t pretend this is about optics.”
“It is,” I argued. “And it’s my job to keep the peace. I need to go over there and make him back off. This isn’t an anger-management tank, and she shouldn't be his collateral damage."
"And I’m telling you, she’s got grit," Brock countered, a rare grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched the distant silent movie play out. "She’s aggressively pacing him now. It’s more fun to watch it unfold this way. If you go break it up, you’ll ruin her competitive drive."
Through the wide glass partition, Jess pointed a finger directly at Dane’s face.
He reached up, casually tapped his oversized headphones, and mouthed something that made her chest heave with an angry breath.
I clenched my fists under the counter, watching her try to block him out by picking up her pace.
I wanted to march in there, declare a zero-tolerance policy for being an arrogant prick, and escort him right out to his precious Bronco.
"Hunter? Hello? Are you actually working today, or just daydreaming?"
A demanding voice snapped me completely out of my trance.
I blinked, tearing my eyes away from the Sweat Sanctuary to find a woman standing at the bar.
She tapped her long, neon-pink manicured nails against the countertop.
It was Victoria, a regular who worked at a law firm down the street and treated the Nutrition Nook like her private catering service.
"Oh, hey, Victoria. Sorry about that," I said, instantly forcing my customer-service smile back into place while my heart still raced from the adrenaline. "What can I get started for you today?"
"The usual green detox, but add a shot of ginger and double the ice," she said, sighing dramatically as she squinted past me at the blenders.
"And please make sure it’s completely smooth this time.
Yesterday there were actual kale chunks at the bottom, and it blocked my straw. I don't have time to chew my liquids."
"You got it. Completely smooth, no chunks, extra ice," I promised, spinning around to yank the frozen ingredients from the refrigerator. My hands moved on pure muscle memory, throwing spinach, green apples, and ice into the blender container, but my eyes immediately darted back to the window.
While the blender whirred to life with a loud, grinding roar that drowned out the lobby noise, a tall, athletic woman in a designer tennis skirt approached the pickup counter.
She ignored me completely and zeroed in on Brock.
I recognized her instantly as one of his high-paying personal training clients who corporate-laddered her way through D.C.
real estate and took her glute days very seriously.
"Brock, thank God you're still here," she said, dabbing a nonexistent bead of sweat from her brow with a designer towel.
"For our Tuesday session, are we doing the Romanian deadlifts again? Because my hamstrings are still completely locked up from last week, and I have a big charity gala on Thursday night. I can't be limping down the red carpet in five-inch Louboutins. That’s not the aesthetic I’m going for. "
He shifted effortlessly into his work persona, his posture straightening as he gave her a reassuring, completely disarming smile that always made his clients feel like they were the only person in the room.
"Don't worry. We'll focus on upper-body hypertrophy and core mobility on Tuesday.
Your hamstrings will be perfectly recovered and loose for a night of dancing and fun.
Just make sure you hit the foam roller in the back room for ten minutes before you leave today. "
"You're an absolute lifesaver," she sighed, giving his bicep a playful pat before turning on her heel and heading toward the locker rooms.
I poured Victoria's neon-green drink into a plastic cup, popped a lid on it, and handed it over with a polite nod as the blender finally died down. "Have a great weekend, Victoria. Enjoy the smooth ride."
"Thanks," she muttered, already staring intensely at her phone as she snatched the cup and walked away.
The second the coast was clear, Brock and I both locked our eyes right back onto the Sweat Sanctuary. But the show was already over.
The digital timer on Jess’s machine must have hit zero. I watched her slap the stop button with an aggressive smack of her palm. She didn't give Dane a single parting glance as she tore her headphones out, snatched her gym bag, and marched off with a furious, breathless energy.
My heart did a ridiculous, teenage flip against my ribs. Her direct path out of the Sweat Sanctuary required her to cut right through the lobby to hit the showers, meaning she had to walk straight past the Nutrition Nook. Past me.
"Hey!" I called out, leaning over the counter as she drew closer. I pitched my voice to that effortless, welcoming register, desperately trying to project safety and comfort after the storm she'd just survived. "First workout down. You survived."
Jess stopped dead in her tracks, giving a visible start.
Her eyes darted from me to Brock, who was still hanging around.
No doubt to watch things play out for his own entertainment.
But I couldn’t be bothered with him right now.
The last thing I wanted was for Dane to have put a damper on her earlier enthusiasm.
Part of me prepared to hear her announce that she hated our gym and would never be back.
She looked beautifully wrecked. Sweat dampened the collar of her hoodie, a few dark curls sticking to the flushed skin of her neck, her chest heaving slightly from the exertion.
And to my relief, no such announcement came out of her perfect mouth.
"Barely.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips. "Your cardio room has a serious pest problem."
I chuckled, glancing over her shoulder to where Dane was still furiously pedaling away, completely oblivious to the world. "Yeah, Dane’s one of our regulars. He tends to occupy a lot of oxygen. I should’ve warned you before you went in there. He sometimes thinks he owns the place."
"Well, he's an asshole," she muttered, pulling the drawstrings of her hoodie a little tighter around herself. It was a classic defensive reflex, and it made me want to jump the counter even more just to shield her from the rest of the room.
Beside me, Brock didn't say a word, but I felt the distinct shift in his weight.
He was shamelessly checking her out, and with the clinical precision of a guy evaluating a prime piece of athletic potential.
His steady eyes traveled down her legs, tracking the curve of her calves beneath the second skin of her workout leggings before coming back up to fix on her face.
Jess caught the look too, and her cheeks turned an even deeper, intoxicating shade of pink under his gaze.
"Don't let him scare you off," I said quickly, pulling her attention back to me. I wanted her looking at me, not getting flustered by his silent evaluation. "Are you coming back tomorrow? I can set you up with a custom cardio routine. Keep you entirely away from the shark tank."
"Oh, um, maybe," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously toward the hallway that led to the changing areas. "I should probably go. Get cleaned up. Have a lot to do today."
She was dancing around it, her excuses slipping out rapidly as she began backing away toward the dual-access locker room doors.
"Right, wouldn't want to keep the day waiting," I teased, giving her a casual wink to let her know she wasn't fooling me. "See you around, Jess."
"Bye, Hunter," she murmured, practically bolting through the heavy door marked Women.
The lobby suddenly felt about ten degrees colder without her in it. I let out a long, pathetic sigh and slumped my upper body flat against the counter, staring blankly at it.
Brock let out a mocking whistle, slapping me so hard on the shoulder that my teeth rattled. "You've got it bad. Real bad. I haven't seen you act like this since high school."
"Shut up," I groaned into the counter.
He glanced at the swinging locker room door, a dark, deeply teasing glint flashing in his eyes.
"You know, if you’re really that worried about her safety with Dane lurking around...
you could always follow her in there. Make sure she’s adjusting to the facilities okay.
I'm sure she’d appreciate the customer service. "
I yanked the damp cleaning rag off my shoulder and threw it straight at his chest. "Why don’t you get out of my face, and go lift something heavy?"