Chapter 6
Matt
“You want me to m-m-mount your… what?” she stammers.
Does it make me a bad person that I really like seeing this confident woman rattled?
I flash her a smile. “My equipment. Or I suppose I should say our equipment. The Kingpin Fitness glute ham developer.”
Penny shakes her head. “No. My glutes and hams are developed just fine, thank you.”
“They sure are,” I mumble.
“What did you just say to me?”
“Hmm?”
Scratch what I said a moment ago about her being rattled.
I’m the one who can’t seem to keep my wits about me whenever she’s around.
But Penny could fire my ass in a second if she wanted to, so I’d better get my shit together.
Fast. Because there were plenty of buff Santas in that audition line last week who could replace me in a heartbeat.
I clear my throat and rephrase. “What I meant to say was, Miss Whitaker, I’d love you to join me for this next demonstration to show our guests how the equipment works. Have you used a glute ham developer before?”
“No, I have not.”
“Perfect.” I gesture to the apparatus.
“And I don’t plan to now.” She looks down the length of her body. “I’m in my work clothes.”
“It’s not like you’re in a skirt,” Keira says. “You can totally do the moves in a pantsuit!”
“Yeah, totally!” I agree.
“Why, thank you, Keira,” Penny says, her teeth clenched. “What a helpful gal you are.”
“That’s me,” Keira smiles and gets her camera ready. “Always a helpful gal.”
Penny smiles at the crowd, which is getting larger by the second, then approaches me and the equipment. “Should I take my shoes off?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Go ahead and slip those heels off for me.”
Her brown eyes lock with mine.
Yeah, I heard it too, Penny.
My voice got all low and growly, like we’re alone in my bedroom instead of standing in the middle of a department store surrounded by over a hundred holiday shoppers.
She slides her shoes off. Seeing her slender feet and perfectly manicured toes sends a zing of heat through me.
There’s all this talk about guys being “boob men” or “ass men.” Is it possible I’m a foot man? Nah. That’s too weird to be a thing. Honestly, I think I’m just a Penny man. Everything about this woman lights me up.
She finally takes my offered hand and lets me assist her onto the equipment.
“I put my feet here?” she asks softly, settling her ankles into position.
She tosses her loose curls over her shoulder when she addresses me. Being this close to her, I can smell hints of her shampoo and the scent of her skin. Aloe and apples and… cinnamon, maybe?
I don’t mean to—at least I don’t think I do—but I brush against her as I adjust the settings to accommodate her long legs. Another rush of heat goes through me. She jolts back slightly, like she felt it too.
“That’s right,” I say, trying to be all business with her and failing miserably. “You can, uh, you can settle your hips here on this cushion.” I pat the space in front of her.
She rests her pelvis right where I tell her to, then looks at me for the next instruction.
Having her full attention on me without all her usual sarcasm and sass is unnerving. And really fucking exciting. In some corner of my consciousness, I know Keira is filming us and shoppers are watching and whispering, but that all fades into the distance as I focus on Penny.
“You want to bend at your hips so your head points toward the ground,” I say.
“Like this?” She tips forward until her ass is in the air and her long, silky brown hair is dusting the floor.
I swallow. “Yeah, um, that’s exactly right.”
“Now what?” she asks.
I crouch down to talk to her. “Cross your arms over your heart like this.” I demonstrate what I need her to do, and again, she follows the instructions perfectly. “You’re a natural with this sort of thing.”
“Well, I used to be a dancer,” she says. “Choreography comes easily to me, I guess.”
She’s actually allowing me to learn something about her.
“What kind of dancer?”
“All kinds, really,” she says. “Tap, jazz, ballet, lyrical…”
“You know, the first time I saw you I actually thought, ‘wow, she has this ballerina-like grace about her.’”
“No, you didn’t.” She laughs.
“I really did! Do you have a favorite style of dance?”
She crooks her finger, beckoning me closer.
I eagerly obey. We’re so close now I could kiss her.
“I’m currently upside down and ass-up in the air while a crowd of people watches. Maybe we can save the get-to-know-you stuff for later and move this demonstration along?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Let’s move things along,” I say.
She gave me the tiniest morsel of information about herself, and I was ready to pull up a chair beside her and ask her all her likes and dislikes.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I stand and address our audience at full volume. “So, friends, the lovely Miss Whitaker is in position now and ready to demonstrate a series of explosive hip extensions.”
“Explosive?” Penny says in alarm. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Not when you have the right man coaching you,” I say.
A few titters come from the crowd.
Penny’s cheeks turn pink.
Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here.
My hand hovers over her lower back. “May I touch you?”
“You may,” she says.
“Alright, everyone. Miss Whitaker is going to keep a nice, neutral spine...” I run my hand gently up Penny’s back until I reach her neck, then trace down again.
She shivers under my touch.
“Right now, while she’s resting forward, she wants her hamstrings and glutes to stay relaxed.”
Penny responds to my words and relaxes her lower half.
“Good girl,” I rumble.
Shit, I wasn’t supposed to say “Good girl.”
Another round of titters comes from the crowd.
“Then, with her chin slightly tucked…”
I touch her chin. She tucks it down.
“Her shoulders back…”
I brush her shoulders. She pulls them back.
“Her abs engaged…”
I tap her belly. Her abdominals tighten. God, she’s responsive.
“She’s going to press her feet firmly onto the base, squeeeeeeeze those glutes, fire up her legs and… explode upward.”
Penny does everything I ask her to do and lifts her chest powerfully into the air, her hair tossing back like she’s freaking Ariel in The Little Mermaid.
“Beautiful!” I praise. “Again!”
She executes the movement again perfectly.
“Again!”
She continues like she’s been doing this exercise her entire life. I’m right beside her, completely in sync with her rhythms and her breath as she folds and extends over and over and over. With every move she makes, I coach her.
“Relax… explode! Relax… explode! Relax… explode!”
“Alright, alright, alright!” Penny shouts. She dismounts the equipment and slips on her heels, her breath labored. She speaks softly this time. “I think they get the idea.”
Our audience reenters my awareness.
People are whispering and giggling. More than a few ladies are fanning themselves. Keira is grinning and giving me a thumbs-up.
But when I turn back to thank her—and possibly apologize too— Penny is nowhere to be seen.