I stared at her. “You read my document?”
“I’m the trainer it was sent to.”
“It was a preliminary framework.”
“It had a version number.”
“Version control is responsible.”
“You projected toenail replacement costs.”
“Toenail loss is frequently mentioned in marathon resources.”
“It shouldn’t be a budget category.”
“That is a matter of opinion.”
The corner of her mouth betrayed her. Blake looked between us.
“I have a meeting,” they said, backing away. “Dani will take care of everything.”
The betrayal was immediate. I watched Blake leave. Dani picked up my gym bag before I could object, staggered under its weight, and asked whether I carried an emergency generator.
“Necessary items,” I said.
She carried it downstairs despite believing I could manage it myself.
“Then why are you carrying it?”
“Because you nearly died trying to impress me.”
“I was not trying to impress you.”
“Good. I’d hate to see the advanced strategy.”
The consultation room had a glass wall, a small table, two chairs, and a diagram of major muscle groups that was more detailed than I required before breakfast. Dani set my bag beside one chair and sat across from me. She opened a tablet.
“Before we start, I want to clarify something.”
“So do I.”
“You first.”
“I need to know whether this is how you normally behave with clients.”
She rested her forearms on the table. “Steal their treadmills?”
“Tease them.”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“People are nervous in gyms. Humor helps.”
“It can also make people feel as though they are not being taken seriously.”
The observation landed.
