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“Yeah, good luck with Jordan, man. Hope you like him.” Carter laughs again, shaking his head.
*~*
That first step toward the gym door is anxio
usly taken in stride, the heavy footfalls of my work boots beating against the pavement. I’m fuckin’ running late from work, the story of my life. Even scheduling late appointments seems fucking impossible to make it somewhere on time. I used to never be so unorganized and tardy for shit. That was before I became a parent. Now my days need more … flexibility.
Belle has been my constant for the last four years. Taking full custody of her two years ago was a blessing, but that only cemented the responsibility of raising her as a single father, and since that time, I lost sight of myself. Hyper-focused on every waking thought of her wants, needs, raising her properly and ensuring she has the love and care every child deserves. I should have realized that letting my health deteriorate and packing on the pounds affected her as much as it did me. It’s clear now.
By the time I reach the entrance of the gym, my breathing comes in short rasps, my chest is fuckin’ throbbin’, and I’m not sure if I’m anxious or just frustrated. I pull the door open and step inside, immediately focused on the slamming thud of metal on metal and the pungent smell of perspiration.
I look around the vast space, alive with people at various stations working out alone or in groups, whether with a trainer or supportive partner, I’m unsure. It’s hectic for sure. There’s nobody at the check-in desk, so I sign in and walk through the gym, taking a look around. It’s been years since I’ve worked out in a public setting—okay, fuckin’ years since I’ve worked out. I get it. Anxiety spikes from all the noise and expectations of judgement I’ll receive.
“Can I help you?” a sweet voice calls from behind me, and I turn around too quickly, jarring a swirl of dizziness. I don’t even have time to register the shock as I pinch my eyes closed and grab my head and shake it to clear the sudden fog. “Hey, are you okay?”
I open my eyes, and this time the shock sets in, and I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep my mouth closed. Motherfuckin’ hell. Before me, in a black sports bra, black spandex leggings, and trainers is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her face is masked in concern, but the honey brown eyes are delicate against her golden complexion, warm smile, and dark hair that is twisted up on top of her head in a mess. She doesn’t have the first ounce of sweat on her skin, so that leads me to believe she must be new … or maybe the front desk staff. They dress relaxed for work too, right? Maybe it’s her uniform.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but only seem to make a weird movement with my lips where my words are paralyzed somewhere between my cock and my throat. Probably right there in the pit of my balls where the boys are ramping up to push the big man to attention. Fuck, thank God I have on damn blue jeans. At least I can hide the boner behind the fabric, and maybe if I place my hands just right…
“Honey, are ya doin’ alright in there? Is there anything I can help you with? Lookin’ for someone?” she asks, snapping her fingers in my face and effectively pulling me out of my internal monologue.
“Oh, sorry. Just got dizzy for a second.”
“You good now?”
I nod like an idiot, my mouth still agape.
“I’m sorry, did you ask something?”
She quirks her brow, and the mask of confusion warps into irritation. “Are you looking for someone?” she drawls out slowly, and I scrub my hand over my face.
“Uhm, yeah. Jordan, I think his name is. He’s a session … I mean, I have a session with him. He’s my new trainer. Yeah.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep from slapping them over my mouth, or across my face. Fuckin’ moron. So here, ladies and fuckers, is how you can quite obviously see how pathetic my ass is. I can’t even string together a fuckin’ sentence in front of a beautiful woman and not manage to sound like a damn taint sucker.
“Oh! You must be Madden. It’s very nice to meet you.” She thrusts her hand toward me, and I take it slowly and shake.
“So, erhm, you his assistant, or the front desk bunny?”
She tilts her head, her face falls in a very tight, but as stupid as this sounds, relaxed appearance as her brow, once a-fucking-gain, quirks up high, nearly meeting her hairline.
“I’m Jordan. It’s very nice to meet you, Madden. I am your trainer.” A sadistic smile slithers across her lip, her brow never faltering from its cocked position.
Me? I’m standing here like a fucker who just got gut punched. In fact, I stumble backward from the assault. “What the actual fuck?”
“Excuse me?” And there goes that delectable ass popped out to the side, her hand bracing her hip with full-on attitude. “This is a business establishment, Mr. Davenport. A family-friendly environment. Lose the language.”
“Sorry, I’m just fu-freakin’ taken aback right now.”
“By what exactly?”
How do I put this without pissing her off? I have no words, so I scan my hands up her body then shake them like—ta-fucking-da.
“Well, it’s obvious you have quite the stellar vocabulary, so how about we be a big boy and you use your words to tell me what’s troubling you?” she sasses, and fuck me running if the boys down below don’t find their inner strength and push my dick up even higher.
I point at her and emphasize every word to recover from my stupor. Big boy roos are on now, sassy ass. “You expect to train me?”
“Well not in that getup I won’t. You do realize what happens in a gym, right?” She eyes me up and down, obviously judging the worn-out jeans, holey pocket tee, and work boots—and for that finishing touch, a dash of sheetrock dust covered from head to toe. “I, the trainer, teaches you, the client, how to get fit.” Her eyes peruse my body, and there’s no hiding the pity they express. I’ve seen it a hundred times, in the way Carter encourages me to work faster when we’re on a job site, or the way Laney will wait back for me, my slow ass always trailing behind. I feel judged, and considering the strength and courage it took to bring myself here today, I don’t fuckin’ like it. Not one damn bit.
