Chapter Eight
Flighty. Contrary. Immature. Misty had been called any number of things in her life, but sexually na?ve was not one of them.
She’d followed Spencer’s advice and held off on the hot shower, but the chill of the ice bath had lingered under her skin after she’d gotten her clothes back on and sensation back into her extremities.
As she changed into her warmest sweats and put an extra blanket on her bed, she wondered who Spencer thought he was fooling with that chicken vindaloo alibi.
She’d seen that tent in his shorts before he’d thrown the tablet over it.
He probably thought he was being so clever, but all he’d done was announce that he’d had something to hide.
That being said, there was quite a bit to hide.
She smiled to herself at the memory of what had proven quite a distraction from the ice bath.
For one glorious moment, she’d forgotten all about the temperature of the water and her numb legs and toes.
If anything, the outline of his erection had sent an extra surge of blood throughout her body and inspired a few thoughts besides Fuck, this is freezing!
As thrilling as the thoughts were, they were also a little unnerving.
She didn’t think of Spencer like that! Except for the time he’d demonstrated a move in a way that showed off his ass.
And then there was the session where he’d put a rough, yet strong and sure hand on her back to correct her form, and stood close enough for her to pick up a fresh herbal scent.
And the day at the pool when he’d worn that shirt that showed everything.
Okay, so maybe she had noticed, but it wasn’t like she could act on it.
This felt like having a crush on a teacher or a coach, an authority figure for whom being with would cross all kinds of lines.
Some traitorous part of her brain pointed out that none of her instructors had looked like that, been so close to her age, or come with an end date in sight.
..meaning that maybe she couldn’t act on it now, but that didn’t mean not ever.
Misty sighed as she turned from one side to another. She was never going to get any sleep if she kept going down this path, and there was only one remedy. Just this once, and then she’d be able to put this behind her and buckle down on her training.
She turned over on her back, the better to lightly trace her fingers over her chest and nipples. Her inner thighs were next, and every stroke went straight to her center. As her hand reached higher and into her sweats, she indulged every thought of Spencer and teased herself over her underwear.
As nice as this was, it wasn’t enough. She turned over, slipped both hands under her clothes, and gave in to the memory of the outline of Spencer’s erection.
It was all too easy to imagine it sliding inside her—heaven knew she was wet enough for it.
Her hands worked more furiously, and a small whimper escaped as she came.
As her head cleared, she realized she was sweating. She shed her clothes and climbed back under the extra covers in just her underwear. Well, that was one way to warm up was her last thought before she passed out in a dreamless sleep.
Despite the echoes of roommates packing and leaving for their next flights, Misty didn’t stir for a solid nine hours.
When she did, she woke up clearheaded instead of her usual groggy start to the day.
Nevertheless, she was glad it was a rest day.
She spent the time working on projects, following up with clients, grazing on healthy snacks, watching a few TV episodes to get ideas for a commission related to the show, keeping Tish entertained via text during a faculty meeting, and checking her email for the last letter of recommendation.
Steve had promised her one, but hadn’t sent it yet, and the end of kickball season meant she wouldn’t see him in person to remind him.
Spencer didn’t cross her mind much, and she felt confident that their next session wouldn’t be weird.
He didn’t need to know what she’d been doing after she got home; he’d also been the one to tell her it was okay while training, and she was more than willing to pretend she hadn’t noticed what he’d done such a piss-poor job hiding.
But when she got to the gym, all cool confidence went out the window.
Spencer wasn’t waiting for her at the front desk as usual.
She pulled out her phone to see if he’d cancelled while she was on the way, but no texts or emails.
“Is Spencer in today?” she asked the receptionist, who was now starting to look familiar.
“He’s around but might be finishing up with someone else. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Misty thanked him and tried to ignore the jealous flare that had sprung up in her chest. Of course Spencer had other clients. And of course she didn’t have a monopoly on his time, so why did she feel so weirdly possessive?
Spencer emerged from the back office in track pants and a t-shirt. A far cry from what he’d been wearing to the last few sessions, but she didn’t comment. Her mouth had gone dry at the sight of him and the memory of what was under those gym clothes.
“Hello, Misty,” he said formally.
Instead of answering, she nodded and followed him to the machines. As she went through her usual stretches to warm up, she noticed him looking at what appeared to be a spot on the wall above her rather than right at her.
“Ready,” she announced when he didn’t seem to notice. “Should I start with the usual, or...”
“Oh! Yes, of course.” He programmed the time and intensity on her machine, and she got to her set.
He looked less than encouraging of conversation than ever, which killed any jokes or sing-alongs before they arrived on her lips.
As a result, the session felt like the biggest slog since she’d first started.
She tried to occupy herself with the TVs on the walls, but the various news channels and ESPNs weren’t enough to distract her.
Her mind wandered to the schedule that had been enclosed with the list of exercises. She had a few more weeks to submit her video, which meant not much time left with Spencer. She was oddly disappointed, and yet it was a relief if he was going to act like this.
****
This was excruciating. Spencer had hoped the rest day would give him time to get his head together, but that had been wishful thinking.
It was like that day had seared every impression of Misty into his head, and it was all he could do to keep himself under control during today’s session.
That seemed to mean ignoring her. But between her bright workout gear and towering height, she was impossible to keep his eyes off of.
“Cooldown’s done,” she said, stepping off the machine. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait.” Spencer forced himself to meet her eyes. “I need to get this off my chest. I behaved extremely unprofessionally the last time I saw you, and I’m sorry.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “And I was the picture of decorum, swearing at the top of my lungs in the ice water?”
If that’s what she thought he was apologizing for, he could more than work with that. “That was pretty much my reaction the first time my trainer had me take an ice bath for recovery, and don’t get me started on when I tried cryotherapy.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re not gonna make me do that, are you?”
“Since we don’t have the means here, that’s for you to seek out if you want to. But once I felt the benefits of ice baths, they got easier, and I even found myself wanting to get in after a while.”
“I doubt that’ll be the case for me.” She shivered as if still haunted by the memory.
“How’d you do for the rest of the day?”
She seemed to be thinking back. “I slept like a corpse and wasn’t nearly as sore the next day.”
“That can happen, and I’m glad it did for you.” He was also slightly flustered, having gotten thrown off track. “The point is, I was out of line and let that go on too long.”
It was easier to apologize for this than for the other thing, and he kept going.
“If you’d reacted like that to one of our exercises out here, I would have stopped immediately, asked what was wrong, and tried to fix it, if not stopping altogether and switching to something else that would have achieved similar results.
I wouldn’t have made you suffer through it like I did with the ice bath, I shouldn’t have done that the other day” — he couldn’t emphasize that part enough — “and I want to make it up to you.”
“How?”
The promise had been an impulsive one, and yet the answer came to him almost immediately. “Don’t you need letters of recommendation for your application?”
“I have one from Tish’s dad, one from my old boss, and I’m still waiting on my kickball captain to write me one.” She frowned. “I don’t want to bug Steve to a point where he writes bad things about me, but I don’t want to be one letter short either.”
“What if you didn’t need him? I’ve seen you in action and am in a position to write you one.”
“By the end of the week?”
“By the end of the day,” he said firmly. “Send me the information and I’ll get something together. It’s the least I can do.”
Her expression relaxed. “Sure. Thanks!”
Spencer’s muscles loosened as if he’d just climbed out of the ice bath. “Then let’s move on.” In all ways. “Ready to switch?”
“Ready.” He got a mat out for her, she got into position, and he was too busy counting reps and logging information to think about much else for the rest of the session.
“And just for fun,” he said, gesturing to the chin-up bar.
“Dude, you need to rethink your idea of fun.” But she approached it anyway and hiked herself up twice. She didn’t get all the way there a third time, but Spencer smiled anyway. “That’s two more than you could do when we first started.”
“That’s two that I did!” She couldn’t keep the thrill out of her voice, and he smiled back at her.
“Good job today, on this and everything else. I’ll have that letter ready for you by tonight.”
“Thanks.” He raised his hand for a high-five, and she enthusiastically slapped it before heading to the exit. The touch lingered on his hand for the rest of the morning.
At lunch in the cafe, Spencer ate his grain bowl with one hand and worked on his tablet with the other. Misty had emailed him the information for the letters, and he glanced from that to a letter of recommendation template he’d Googled.
To Whom It May Concern:
I am writing to recommend Marisa Kaufman — it felt weird referring to Misty as such — for the World Winter Games four-woman bobsled combine. I am a former professional athlete turned personal trainer, and I have had the privilege of training her for this event.
The first paragraph flowed easily enough, but he stalled slightly at the next one. He chewed a mouthful of broccoli, brown rice, and chicken as he thought back on their time together and what would be most relevant to the combine.
Our training sessions have included a combination of cardio and strength exercises.
Ms. Kaufman was in good physical condition to begin with, but her abilities have only grown in the time we have been working together.
She has consistently shown up on time, brought her best efforts to each session, and progressed to lifting increasingly heavier weights since the training began, though not at the expense of speed.
All of this points to success on the bobsled course.
That had all been true of today’s session. As he tried to decide what to write next, a reminder for his next appointment popped up. He did his best not to groan at the sight of the name. This client was always whining about something or other.
Once again, he wondered how he’d ever thought he could have kept his distance from Misty. Her good moods were too infectious, and she was too irresistible. He stirred the last of the bowl’s contents as he pondered that there had to be a more professional way of phrasing it.
However, it’s more than her physical strength that sets her apart among both my clients and your applicants.
Even through the most difficult challenges, she has kept a positive outlook and celebrated every achievement, however big or small.
Any complaints are softened with jokes, and her optimistic attitude makes each session a more enjoyable one for everyone around her.
In conclusion, anyone would be lucky to have her.
Spencer paused as the truth and enormity of his last sentence hit him.
He hastily typed “as part of their team,” added a final paragraph with his contact information, and signed it with his full name, all the while knowing it to be true.
Anyone would be lucky to have her, whether as a teammate, a friend, or a romantic partner.