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“That’s fine, Ray.” Stella waved at the leaves falling from the maple tree. “They’re not on a schedule, so you don’t have to be, either. How long will Ollie’s renovations take, do you think?”
“I’m not exactly sure.” Ray’s eyes had followed Stella’s wave and remained on the yard as he continued. “Probably a month or so, if I’m guessing.”
That would take them into November, and the weather here in western Kentucky would be getting chilly. Her worry from earlier resurfaced. “And then what? Will you go south to warmer weather?”
Ray’s gaze wandered back to meet hers, and his smile took on an edge of tenderness. “No, Ms. Stella. I’ve got the best of reasons to stay in these parts. Here’s exactly where I want to be.”
Oh, dear! Stella’s heart dropped into her stomach like a lead weight. If her kindness had been misconstrued as something else, she would have to remedy that immediately.
“Ray.” She hesitated. “I think of you as a good friend. And I’m flattered, really.” She held up the flowers as evidence. “But I...don’t think I’ll ever...uh...”
His eyes widened in shock. “Oh, no, Ms. Stella.” He waved his palms in front of the flowers as if the gesture would make them disappear. “I didn’t mean you! That’s not why I gave you the flowers.”
Relief flooded her, followed closely by a wave of embarrassment. “Oh.” Her face grew hot. “I shouldn’t have assumed...”
Ray’s face was bright red, but his laugh dissipated the tension between them. “I’d never expect a fine-looking woman like you to fall for an old goat like me.” He backed off the steps, eyes still locked with hers. “But you know, Ms. Stella, you’re doing some good man a grave disservice by keeping yourself off the market.”
Stella pressed a cold hand to her warm cheek. “Thank you, Ray.”
“I’d best get to work now...before you try to marry me or something.” He shook his head in mock wonderment and headed for the garage.
Stella was laughing when she closed the door, positive that for the next few days, the flowers she held would wring a giggle from her every time she saw them.
* * *
“I’LL SEE YOU LATER.” Bree’s roommate, Thea O’Malley, gave her a small wave, then rose on tiptoes to kiss Gil goodbye. “And I’ll see you later,” she repeated, though the intonation used the second time sent a totally different message.
Thea’s kiss was followed by a long, direct look into Gil’s eyes that made Bree feel like an intruder. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, y’all. Get a room.”
Gil’s gaze shifted to his sister and he squinted one eye. “We had more options for that before you came along.”
Bree ignored the barb. Moving into the spare bedroom of Thea’s small house in Benton had been a win-win situation for them both. Sharing expenses gave them each extra spending money, and now Thea could stay at Gil’s house on Kentucky Lake as often as she wanted without fretting about her cat, Dandy, getting lonely.
And Dandy—short for Dandelion because he’d been a yellow puffball as a kitten—had given Bree his stamp of approval by sleeping at least half of every night splayed across her feet.
Bree gathered the stack of applications from the front counter and took them to the gym’s office where Stacy, a college student who’d be working there part-time, would enter them into the computer. Stacy had already left for her night class, so Bree thumbed through the pile, glancing at the addresses. There seemed to be a good representation from most of the small communities of Marshall County. A few were obviously closer to Paducah or Murray, so she could only surmise the grand opening special discount had served its purpose.
Many of the new members indicated they wanted to work with a personal trainer. She and Gil would divide those up as equally as possible, depending on whether weight loss or strength training was the primary goal. Surprisingly, at this point, strength training seemed to be in the lead, but not surprisingly, the majority of those who wanted to achieve weight loss were women. Nature’s way of helping her stay good on her promise of no involvement, perhaps, since she’d be handling the clients looking for weight loss.
Her stomach growled a reminder that it was time for one of her six small meals, so she headed to the fridge at the snack bar. Gil hadn’t found anyone to run the area yet, so today the two of them had taken turns with the part-time employees keeping protein water, fruit, nuts and smoothies in the hands of potential customers. Consequently, things were a bit of a mess, and nothing was where she’d left it.
She rummaged through all the shelves of the fridge, looking for the other half of the turkey breast on organic whole grain bread that she’d brought from home. Oh, man, if someone had eaten her special sandwich she’d saved until this evening, she would be pissed.
“Where is it?” she fumed, turning her attention to the drawers at the bottom.
“Well, I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I think I’ve found what I’m looking for.”
The deep voice and its ensuing laugh caused Bree to straighten too quickly, banging the base of her head on the door of the freezer.
“Damn!” She grabbed her head and whirled around, biting back another expletive, reminding herself this was probably a customer—who had been inappropriately ogling her rear.
The poor guy’s grin faded with one look at her, and he stepped back, eyes wide.
Big blue eyes wide.
The big wide shade-of-blue-Mom-called-Paul Newman–blue eyes caused an unwelcomed pulse to run through Bree’s system.
Don’t even. She slapped herself mentally.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He picked up one of the price lists from the bar. “I was looking for one of these, and that guy sent me over here.” He nodded in the direction of the weight room where Gil was demonstrating the correct way to perform a bench press to an elderly man.
Ashamed that she’d mistaken this guy’s meaning and allowed her own libido off its leash, Bree smiled through the pain. “I’m the one who should apologize for my language.”
He grinned, flashing a set of killer dimples. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
Bree gritted her teeth at her body’s reaction to his smile. “Still inappropriate on my part, though.” Truer words were never spoken. She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Bree Rice, one of the trainers.”
“I’m Kale Barlow.” He gave her hand a shake and then dropped it quickly. He pointed to the picture of her and Gil on the price page. “You’ve cut your hair.”
“Yeah. That’s a couple of months old. Keeping it in a constant ponytail was heavy and causing the ends to break. I thought I’d try it short for a while.” She hadn’t admitted to anyone, it was also her symbolic cut with Lang and Todd and all her past mistakes.
The new gym called for a new start with a new attitude and a new “do.”
He nodded absently and then seemed to remember why he’d come. “I’m thinking I might be interested in the full-service membership. The one that will let me work one-on-one with somebody.”
“Great!” Bree pushed a little more enthusiasm into her voice than she felt. “What are you hoping to get from working with a personal trainer?” Please, say muscle tone or anything that will land you with Gil.
“Well, I’ve been working out on my own, and I’ve lost over twenty pounds,” he said, pride evident in his voice.
“Good!” Bree breathed a little easier. “Good for you.”
“But...”
Bree’s breath hitched at the word.
“I still need to lose twenty or thirty more pounds.” He stepped out from behind the bar he’d been leaning on and grabbed the spare tire around his stomach, giving it a jiggle.
No doubt about it, Kale Barlow was enough overweight to be unhealthy, and she could help him fix that. But his smile—and those eyes!—held an all-too-familiar element of danger. Bree’s insides started a tug-of-war.
“You know, a personalized weight-lifting program would build muscle tissue,” she offered. “And muscle uses more calories than fat, so you could just follow some nutrition guidelines—”
Gil had finished with the elderly man and now walked up to join their conversation. “If it’s nutrition guidelines you want, Bree here’s your expert.” Gil’s arm went around her shoulder for a quick hug.
Bree forced a smile past her tight jaw muscles. “But, as I was saying, the pounds can really fall off once you start building muscle.”
“But—” Gil interjected again, “muscle is denser than fat, so some people get discouraged when they start strength training because they might see the scale going up instead of down. The trick is to keep an eye on your measurements.”
Confusion settled into the deep blue of Kale Barlow’s eyes. “I’m doing pretty good with the weight thing. I’m really hoping to get some more pounds off fairly quickly.”
“Then Bree is the perfect personal trainer for you if you’re looking at the full-service package.”
Bree flinched. She’d used those same words all day long. Why had the term full-service package chosen this exact moment to sound sexual?
Kale’s eyes scanned the list of services on the paper and then nodded. “Yep. That’s what I want. Where do I sign?”
“I’ll grab a membership form.” Bree scurried back to the office for the form and her schedule, glad for a bit of distance to clear her head.
It had been a long day, and she was tired. Maybe even a little vulnerable.
She paused. That was it. Vulnerability was a weakness, and a weakness needed to be turned into a strength.
She loved obstacle courses. Loved the feeling that came with scaling a fifteen-foot wall by climbing a rope. Loved the exhaustion after a grueling six-mile race in mud.
Kale Barlow was an obstacle to her career—waiting to be conquered.
Besides, she didn’t even know him yet. He could turn out to be a total jerk who just happened to be blessed with gorgeous eyes, a killer smile and a deep, sensuous voice.
She hurried back to the snack bar with his form, her schedule and a new resolve.
“Kale’s the one who leased the marina on Jonathan Creek,” Gil told her while her new client filled out the form.
“Dilly’s old place?” she asked, and Gil nodded. Dilly Myers had been a fishing buddy of their dad’s. The Jonathan Creek area was a popular boating and camping area on Kentucky Lake with a huge draw for tourists, but, although it was only ten miles or so away, Bree couldn’t remember the last time she’d been there.
By the time Kale completed the paperwork, Bree was under control and all business, not the least bit worried when Gil left to process the membership fee on the card reader in the office, leaving her and Kale alone. “So, Mr. Barlow, what days and times work best for you?”
“I close the marina at six during the winter. I can be here by six-thirty easily.”
“Monday, Wednesday, Friday good for a start?”
He nodded.
“This Friday work for you?”
He nodded again, and Bree penciled him in.
Gil returned and handed his card back to him. “Here you go.”
“Well, I guess I’m finished here.” He put the card in his wallet and shook hands with both of them. “Thanks for opening this place. I think it’s exactly what I need.”
“We’re glad to have you, and I look forward to working with you,” Bree told him. “And, if you get the chance before Friday, write down what’s in your refrigerator. We’ll start out with a look at how you eat.” She smiled at the grimace he made before he walked away.
Bree and Gil watched until he was out the door.
“You okay with him?” Gil asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Gil shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seemed a little nervous.”
She shook her head. “Nervous? Hardly.”
“Yeah, he’s really not your type, is he?” She heard the taunt come into her brother’s voice. “Thankfully, you always go for those long and lean, sinewy guys.”
“I told you before, no client involvement. Even if my favorite hunky actor, Sam Heughan, walks through our door, I won’t give him a second look.” She closed her eyes and took a long breath to steel her resolve.
When she opened them, Gil was watching her, worry evident in his eyes. “Made you blink,” he said.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_dbd0b004-ff5f-5a46-a2c3-5f6d5b86dcec)
THE PARKING LOT of the gym was nearly empty. As he parked his truck, Kale was dreading the lecture ahead of him. He had his list of what’s-in-your-fridge to share with his new trainer, and from the looks of Ms. Not One Ounce of Extra Fat, she wouldn’t be pleased.
But he would face his punishment like a man. He deserved a lecture, though not because of the contents of his refrigerator. It wasn’t like he could control his freakin’ subconscious.
Wednesday night he’d gotten caught in the act of unabashedly checking out the ass of another guy’s wife. Oh, he’d covered well, but Bree Rice had seen through him, he was sure.
Married women were off-limits, sort of a “do-unto-others” standard he lived by.
But it wasn’t the ogling he was most ashamed of. It was the damn erections he’d woken up with for two mornings now, and the person in his dreams was his personal trainer.
Mrs. Gil Rice, he reminded himself for the twelve-gillionth time that day.
As he switched the ignition off, he closed his eyes and pushed Addy to the forefront of his mind. “I’m doing this for you, Addy.” He fixed her once again as his driving force.
Bree wasn’t difficult to spot through the weight room windows in her hot-pink and bright yellow shorts. Her back was to him, but Kale made a point of keeping his eyes focused on her top half this time. Gil, who was spotting her, acknowledged Kale with a nod as she lifted a barbell with a damn impressive amount of weight attached to each end over her head. Her movements were smooth, her posture perfect. She held the weight for a few seconds before squatting to settle the ends back on the stand.
She and her husband shared a high five, and he said something to her. She grabbed a towel and trotted out to meet Kale.
“Hi, Kale. You’re right on time.” Her face was flushed from exertion, making her smile seem to glow as they shook hands in greeting. “And you’re dressed and ready to go. I’m impressed.”
“I’m motivated for change,” he answered, keeping his eyes glued to her face and not allowing them to glance at the perfect cleavage peeking out of her sports bra.
“Then you might be my favorite client.” She laughed and the sound relaxed him. “So, did you bring your list?”
He pulled it from his jacket pocket in answer.
“Great. We’ll get to that later. I know you just finished work, and you’re probably anxious to get in a little cardio, so I thought we’d start you off with a half hour of circuit training. Then we’ll spend the last half hour going over your list and talking about some healthy eating habits. Sound good?”
“I’m putting myself in your hands.” Kale flinched inwardly at his unfortunate word choice. “Lead the way,” he added.
Bree escorted him to the circuit-training room, taking him from station to station, explaining how the weight machines and stationary bikes worked. The idea of staying on a machine for only one minute sounded weird, but once he got into the routine, it was nice in a mindless kind of way. Cycle hard for one minute, then, at the sound of the beep, move to a weight machine. Ten seconds to get the machine set. Another beep. Do as many reps as possible in one minute, then at the sound of the beep, move back to the bike. A full circuit around all the machines took twenty minutes, but with Bree’s ten-minute training on the machines, he found he was finished at precisely the time she had told him she’d be waiting. The woman was certainly efficient.
She met him at the door of the circuit room with a fresh towel. “I’m glad to see you’re sweating.” She really did look genuinely pleased as she led the way to her office. “Some people take it too easy in there.”
“Not me. I want to lose twenty more pounds by Christmas.”
He watched as doubt shadowed her light brown eyes. “That may be expecting a little too much. A healthy pace is one to two pounds a week.”
“Not fast enough. Two-twenty by December twenty-fifth.” That would be forty-three pounds from where he’d started.
