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The moment I end the phone call, doubt creeps over me. What have I done? In about ten minutes, Jason will be here. In my house. That desperately needs to be tidied up and cleaned.
I frantically start picking up clothes from the floor and put a handful of dirty coffee cups in the sink. It takes me exactly three minutes to vacuum my living room, then another three to fluff the couch pillows and fold the fleece blankets I lie under every evening to read.
Before I can do anything else, the doorbell rings. Twice. As if to say: ding-dong, time’s up! Moment of truth, Erin.
I take a deep breath and kick a pair of stray shoes under the stairs before swinging the door open. Jason stands there with a lazy grin on his face, and my stomach squeezes. I wonder if he’s nervous, too, under those abs of steel.
“Hi, Jason, come on in.” I hold the door wide open for him. I throw him an apologetic smile as he steps inside. “You’ll have to ignore the mess. I didn’t have time to clean.”
Even though my place now looks presentable, I don’t want him to think I’m a slob. I’m not, just very busy and not always in the mood to clean after a long day.
“Looks good enough to me,” he says while letting his gaze sweep my living room.
I offer him a cup of hot tea, and we settle down on the couch. He gets his list of questions out of his bag, and suddenly I feel queasy. Not because Jason is close and so good-looking, but because this whole getting into shape is a sensitive subject for me.
In high school, I was one of the thin girls, but once I started college, I gained weight faster than I could blink. Studying became a full-time job for me, and I was a stress-eater. After four years, I walked away with my chemistry degree and a ton of extra weight. My sister keeps telling me I have to do something about it. I swear she’s embarrassed to be seen with me. Personally, I don’t think being curvy is that big of a deal, but the pressure from my surroundings can get too much to bear. The last thing I want is to come across as a pitiful case at my sister’s wedding.
Jason is different, though. I can tell by the way he looks at me without an ounce of judgment.
“Ready to get started?” he asks.
I nod and shift in my seat. I hope these questions aren’t too personal.
“Tell me about your goals, Erin.”
“Oh, jeez. My goals? I guess working at an environmentally friendly company as a chemist is high on the list, but so is traveling the world.”
He holds his hands up in the air and chuckles. “I meant your fitness goals. Not that I don’t want to hear everything about your personal dreams later on.”
My cheeks turn red. Of course, he meant my fitness goals. What kind of personal trainer would ask their clients about their lifelong dreams? Weird ones, that’s who.
I smile at him. “I want less fluff and more toned skin. And I’d love to go on extra long hikes without fainting midway to the top of a mountain.”
He frowns. “That happened to you?”
“God no, that would be crazy weak, right?” I lie.
Last year, I started on a hike to a hidden waterfall in the mountains of Trout Creek when I fainted. Granted, it was hot as hell, and I was in the worst physical shape of my life, but it was still embarrassing. Thankfully the guide, Knox, was nice enough and told me there was nothing to feel bad about. It eased my bruised ego a tiny bit.
“So far, I have not fainting and more toned skin on your goals list. Anything else you want to add?”
I bite my lip. “Lose a bit of weight. I’m happy with my curves, but I’d be even happier if I lost a few pounds so the bridesmaid's dress I’m forced to wear won’t burst at the seams.”
A smile plays on his lips. “Not a fan of the dress, huh?”
“Ugh, not at all. I have it in my closet if you want to see it. It’s hideous.”
“I’d love to check it out, but let’s finish this questionnaire first.”
He asks me a few more questions about my goals, my previous stints of getting fitter, and my schedule. An hour flies by without me noticing. By the time Jason wraps things up, it’s past midnight.
Neither of us makes a move to get up and call it a night. Our conversation goes from fitness questions to work and family. It’s like I’ve known him all my life, and it feels good to be myself around him.
“Did you always know you wanted to be a personal trainer?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “Not really. Believe it or not, I had a completely different career before this one.”
“Really? Do tell.”
His brow furrows as if he’s afraid of answering.
“Is it that bad?” I ask. “Did you work as a mercenary? Or worse, a lawyer.”
I laugh. Lawyer jokes never fail to miss. Except now.
He smiles sheepishly. “You got me.”
“Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
He puts a hand on my knee, trying to reassure me, but instead, I’m on fire. “Don’t be sorry. Seriously, why do you think I left my high-paying lawyer job in the first place? I hated it. Every day, I had to defend clients who wanted to divorce their partner and take everything from them. And when I say everything, it’s not an exaggeration. Seeing the hurt in people’s eyes after going through a divorce from hell led to countless sleepless nights until I had enough and quit. I moved here and never looked back.”
“That’s impressive. I love how you followed your heart. Not a lot of people have the guts for that.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want that job to break me. Being a divorce lawyer made me lose my faith in love for a while.”
I swallow. “But you found it again?”
“Oh, yeah, absolutely.”
My thoughts drift away. I bet he dates a gazelle-like girl, one of those lean women who seem to glide through the air with a grace that makes you want to bow for them. The kind of girl who made fun of me through college and who I wanted to hit in the face more times than I can remember.
“Earth to Erin,” Jason says.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Did all that talk about love make you think about a guy?” he asks in a voice bordering on jealousy.
“No, a girl.”
Surprise covers his features. “I see.”
I quickly shake my head. “No, not like that. I, um, was wondering who your girlfriend is and what she looks like.”
He tips his head back and laughs. “My girlfriend?”
“The one who made you believe in love again.”
“You mean the non-existent one because I’m single.”
His words cut through the air and punch me right in the chest. He’s single? I jump up in a futile attempt to run so I can get my heartbeat under control. “Another refill? I can get you tea, coffee, soda, water, or something stronger.”
He stands and grabs his bag. “Thanks, but I should get going. It’s late, and I have to be back at the gym in the morning.”
“Of course,” I say, leading him to the front door. “How do we go from here?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow with a detailed plan and schedule, if that’s okay?”
I nod. “That sounds perfect. Thanks again, Jason. Goodnight.”
He steps outside, and I watch him as he puts on a helmet and revs his motorcycle. He turns around and waves before flipping his visor down.
I sigh. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.