Chapter Three
Ruby
The front desk at Iron House Fitness is exactly how I left it, which is both comforting and a little depressing. No one took out the trash. The same stack of waivers remains on the edge of the desk. And the faint smell of disinfectant tries and fails to cover up sweat and rubber mats.
“You hear about the Miller place?” I lean against the counter as Mr. Jensen finishes up on the leg press. The house had been empty for the last couple of years after old man Miller passed away.
He grunts as he pushes through the last rep. “Yeah, I heard the roof caved in.”
“Back half of it.” Here’s to hoping my roof is structurally sound. “Apparently they’re blaming the rain, but my money’s on it sitting empty for so long.”
“Or teenagers.” The foot plate clanks into place as he drops his feet to the floor, braces a hand on his thigh, and pushes upright to face me.
“That’s always a safe bet.”
He chuckles, grabbing his towel. “You’d think people around here would learn.”
“You’d think.”
They don’t. People don’t change, which makes it incredibly stupid that I’ve spent too much time the last couple of days wondering whether a truck would pull into my driveway.
He didn’t come by. Of course he didn’t come by.
I straighten, flipping through the schedule binder out of habit more than necessity. Everything’s filled for the next few hours. Lance is booked. Daniel has a full afternoon.
The front door opens. The bell chimes. And my stomach drops as the scent of warm cedar, clean musk, and sawdust fills the air. Because apparently, I don’t learn either.
I don’t look up right away. I don’t need to. I know exactly who it is.
He walks in like nothing happened. Like he didn’t stand in a hardware store aisle and offer to come by. Like I didn’t make the mistake of thinking that meant something.
“Morning,” I say, eyes still on the page in front of me.
A second set of footsteps follows his. Lighter. A sweet, floral scent drifts in after him, familiar and way too strong. Xavier. And Lindsey.
Right. Of course, he’d be with the most beautiful woman in town. I know her. Everyone knows her. Not personally, not really, but in that small-town way where you know exactly who someone is without ever having a conversation.
Blonde. Sophisticated. She’s the kind of gorgeous that doesn’t need hours to get ready. Except it’s clear she did.
She smiles. The expression is bright and practiced, but shy of being friendly.
“Hi.” Her emerald-green workout gear looks sharp and intentional, like everything else about her. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
“I usually am.” Even when I’d rather not be.
“I signed up a couple of weeks ago.” She steps closer to the desk. “You must’ve been off. They said I could get a membership card from you.”
“That was probably my boss.” I flip through the card box, find hers, and hand it to her. “Here you go.”
Xavier hasn’t said anything yet. Hasn’t moved closer. Hasn’t done anything that would make this feel like more than exactly what it looks like. He’s with Lindsey.
“Are you familiar with everything?” I’m careful to keep my tone light.
“Of course.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I had a quick tour that first day.”
“If you need anything, let me know. That’s what I’m here for.” Because it is. Schedules. Structure. Consistency. Things you can rely on. Unlike–
I cut that thought off before it finishes.
“Just a reminder, the women’s restroom and locker room are combined.” I point toward the room in question. “The trainers are all with clients right now, so if you need anything, let me know. I can show you how the equipment works.”
“That’s so sweet but I’ve got it handled.” She smiles again, then glances at Xavier, her hand brushing his arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You coming?”
“Yeah,” he says, easy.
Of course it’s easy. Why wouldn’t it be? There’s nothing complicated about this from his side. No expectations. No promises. No reason to think twice.
Lindsey heads toward the floor, and he follows, falling into step beside her like that’s always where he was going to be. Like there was never a moment in a hardware store where he offered anything else.
I’m an idiot. He saw someone over their head and helped. That’s it.
The binder blurs beneath my eyes. This is what it looks like when you don’t mean anything to someone.
A few minutes pass before he circles back. Alone this time. I don’t look up right away. Let him stand there. Petty? Maybe. Earned? Definitely.
“Hey.”
I flip a page, ignoring his warm, musky scent, mixed with sawdust and soap. “Hey.”
A beat passes between us.
“You get everything figured out?” Like we’re picking up a conversation that never started.
“Mostly.” I take a deep breath and steady my shoulders. It isn’t his fault I expected him. “Nothing fell off the walls yet, so I’m calling it a win.”
His mouth twitches, causing one dimple to pop for an instant before it’s gone. “That’s a low bar.”
“I like achievable goals.”
“Yeah.” Silence stretches. Not awkward. Just… empty. Like there should be something there, and there isn’t. “Anyway….” He takes a step back. “I’ve got to get my workout in so I can get back to the office.”
His attention drifts to the schedule board, then back again like he’s looking for something to say. “Busy?”
“Always.”
The phone rings, right on cue. I reach for it. He huffs a breath, almost to himself. “At least there’s someone here to answer the phones.”
“Still no office manager?”
“No.” He gives a self-deprecating chuckle and points at his chest as the phone trills again. “Just yours truly.”
“That must be rough.” I pick up the phone. “Iron House Fitness, this is Ruby.”
By then, he’s already turned away. Back on the floor. Back where he belongs. Like the other day didn’t happen.
I press the phone a little tighter to my ear, focusing on the voice on the other end. Schedules. Appointments. People who’ll do what they say they will.
“Thursday at six works.” I flip to the right page. “I’ll get you down.”
Because that’s what I do: I keep things running, even when everything else feels a little off