The following morning, Julie arrived at the gym fifteen minutes early and ordered a green protein smoothie. Liz said it would help get her through the workout. Some sock juice concoction that consisted of spinach, bananas, mangoes, and flax seeds.
While she waited for the attendant behind the counter to throw in everything and the kitchen sink, she scanned the perimeter to see which trainers were on duty.
Dane said he was sending one of his good buddies to take over while he healed.
Again Julie searched the gym, keeping an eye on the trainers who usually worked with Dane to see if she’d previously met the person. This “good buddy” who he’d tasked with taking over her training during his recovery.
In the back by the Smith machine, Penny and her rock-solid thighs stood with her clipboard at the ready. The bony-legged guy she was training struggled under the weight to lower himself into a squat.
The other trainers, Doug and Sarah, were up front by the bench press, spotting, and Jeff wasn’t doing much of anything, unless you counted playing on his phone probably for the past hour.
In just the amount of time she was sitting there, he’d already taken two selfies. Neither of which showcased anything noteworthy other than his overinflated injectable lips.
Jeff lifted his beady eyes toward Julie and she jerked her head back toward the girl behind the counter. She prayed he wasn’t the one she’d be stuck with for whatever length of time Dane’s bone needed to weld itself back together. He was nice enough, in a pocket-sized brain kind of way, but she couldn’t imagine him barking orders and motivating her through her goals.
She wasn’t in a position to judge, but in the week since she’d become a member, she had yet to see him with a client who wasn’t his friend, or someone who he had talked about behind their back.
Plus, it didn’t help that he had a serious case of dad bod.
Come on; if he was going to train for a living, he needed to be his own walking advertisement. No one wanted someone with ugly hair to style theirs, the same way a sickly doctor wouldn’t exactly inspire healthy habits from his patients. That’s just a given.
Probably not the best way to coach someone for results, she mused.
When Julie’s smoothie was ready, she slurped it down so fast that her brain twisted into a frozen vise grip and she was rendered paralyzed until the freeze waned.
She was hungry and a little bit sick of green veggies and egg whites. What she wanted was a full stack of buttery pancakes with globs of syrup pouring over the edges. She wanted real bacon, not that rubber turkey that Dane and Liz swore by. Real, crunchy, fatty, oily bacon hot off the grill.
Her mouth watered at the thought.
There were plenty of things that tasted better than skinny felt. Not that she knew what skin and bones felt like over the last decade. She’d always been a foodie, long before loving food had a name. Julie could throw down in the kitchen and eat most men under the table.
She used her straw to scrape the sides of the cup and sucked down as much as she could. What she couldn’t reach with the straw, she tried to get by taking the plastic top off and slurping it down. A slushy green avalanche skidded down the inside of the cup and dripped down onto her face and shirt.
“Damn it!” She cursed the stupid straw.
Julie grabbed a napkin from the counter and patted her shirt, but she only made it worse. Now, instead of one small green spot, she’d rubbed it around so much, the wet spot had travelled down to her boob.
“Great, a green boob!” she hissed.
“Uh oh. Do you need to reschedule?” a deep voice said from behind her. “That’s going to stain. Nice hair by the way, I barely recognized you.”
Julie turned, prepared to see anyone else, but who she hadn’t been expecting to see was him. Nico.
She stiffened on impulse. Her mouth fell open and she could feel her face screw into a blend of flattery, annoyance, and pure unsaturated attitude. Heat ignited low in her belly and traveled up to her cheeks.
As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t let her lie. Nico had striking good looks. The guy was blazing hot and every inch of her skin pulsed, just being near him.
Since she last saw him, he’d tapered his close-cut beard, further defining the strong lines of his jaw. He’d also gotten some sun, his usual tawny coloring bronzed with undertones of warm earth. Then, there was those deep-set honey eyes with sweeping lashes.
Julie didn’t dare stare into them or allow her gaze to linger over the rest of his body, for his lean torso and strong arms might send her into a frenzy imagining him pressed up against her.
She was at a loss for words, but he and his untimely sense of humor, unfortunately was not.
He gave Julie a considerable once-over before starting in on her nerves. “This makes two stained shirts and one ripped skirt. Pretty soon you’re going to be out of clothes at the rate you’re going.”
Tragically, the guy was standing there making fun of her and she was still stuck on the words, “out of clothes.” Ugh Pink buds.
It was clear by the exaggerated way his brows raised and a laugh pulled at the corners of his full lips that he was joking, but Julie wasn’t in any mood to joke. She was wound up tighter than a mattress coil.
Even the sight of his adorable dimple couldn’t reverse the onset of her mood swing.
“Wow, no shit Sherlock. Nothing gets by you,” she said. It could have been the shower fantasy still running through her mind inspired by the impression of his washboard abs against the cotton shirt fabric, but she sounded strained to her own ears.
About the only thing she could do, was look anywhere but at him.
With her attention fully focused on her dry hands and cuticles, she made a mental note to check her calendar for the mani-pedi Liz had set up.
Nico cleared his throat. Before he could get a word in edgewise, Julie continued snapping at him. “As much fun as this little reunion is that we’re having, I don’t have time for you right now. I have an appointment.”
Refusing to look him in the eye, Julie stood up and made grand work of searching the room. She checked her watch. Already six o’five.
“That’s funny. I have an appointment, too. Mine is at six. What time is yours?” He stood beside her, his arm lightly brushing hers as he searched the room, too. His hand propped over his eyes, as if he needed to look out ashore.
“Mine is at six, too.” She narrowed her gaze on him as an unwanted thought popped into her head. “Wait a minute. You said ‘reschedule’?”
“Yeah. You’re my appointment. Didn’t Dane tell you?” That megawatt panty-dropper smile spread across his face and out popped a mind-numbing dimple that she’d somehow missed before.
Julie leaned on the bar to keep her knees from buckling. “Uh, no.” She rolled her eyes and her mouth hung open at the blatant conspiracy these two had worked out behind her back.
“Dane thinks this shit is funny, but it’s not.” She pouted. Not only because she could image her trainer getting a good kick out of this, but also because she could not be stuck with Nico. She’d already done the cheating, lying type. Adding a player to her list of mistakes probably wasn’t the best idea.
“Look, Nico. No offense, but I think I’ll just keep doing the things Dane taught me until he comes back. I don’t need your help.” At the same time, Julie’s brows lifted as she shrugged.
Dane had said he needed five to six weeks to heal from his lower leg fracture. With Nico and that dimple, she’d give herself a week tops before her willpower gave out. She didn’t stand a chance against her raging libido.
She walked over to the mats and began her stretches, but he was hot on her tail.
“Why are you so stubborn? I’m only trying to help you.” He squatted down in front of her so that her eyes were level with the most perfect dimple she’d ever seen in her life. “I don’t want anything from you, so chill. It’ll be totally professional and when we’re done, we can just go our separate ways, no harm no foul,” he offered.
“What’s in it for you, Mr. Nice Guy? Are you getting paid for this—is that it?” she accused him as she lowered her chest flat between her spread legs. She arched her left arm over to her right leg. “Tell you what. I’ll tell Dane you trained me and you can still get paid and leave me alone. Deal?”
“No deal. I’m not in this for the money, Girl Boss. I’m not about that life. Why do you always have to be touchy about everything? He’s not even paying me. He’s just a good friend of the family and I told him I’d help out, that’s all. Seriously, is it so hard for you believe that people can be good to each other without some ulterior motive?”
“Yes,” she said flatly.
Nico raised his brows at her. “Well, believe it. Are we going to do this, or what?”
At her narrowed side-eye and the “fuck off” sign she projected on her forehead, Nico stood up and skulked over to the barbells.
She was right to be mad. Right to avoid this guy. If she didn’t want to keep repeating the same insane cycle with men only to end up regretting it, she had to. Every hot-headed word she had said was right. Except she had directed them at the wrong person. Patrick? Yes. Celeste or Elise? Absolutely. But not Nico.
Shame washed over her. What had he really done to her? He’d run out in the rain to return her shirt. They shared a nice dinner and he made sure she got home safe. What was so wrong with that?
Nothing, if she didn’t mind the fact that he was a self-confessed manwhore.
Damn it, why am I always drawn to the ones with the matching dangerous good looks and sketchy past?
Julie studied his reflection in the mirror. He double-fisted a pair of fifty or sixty pounders, she guessed by where he stood in front of the racks with weights from five to a hundred pounds. From across the room, she stared as he alternated them in butterfly tricep lifts with such ease and natural strength. His muscles rippled beneath his taut brown skin.
Where she was sitting, the muscles in his back flexed through his shirt and she couldn’t help wondering what he’d look like without it.
To anyone else, he looked like he was just concentrating, focusing on his set. But, she’d gotten a glimpse of his anger that night in his truck. That clenched jaw. The throbbing vein at his temple. The way his long lashes seemed to flutter when he squinted.
God, he was cute when he was angry.
Feeling loose and stretchy, Julie made her way over to the treadmill to warm up. Usually, she’d go four and a half or five miles an hour, comfortably. Today, though, at this angle? With Nico dead-center in front of her and her libido shooting off flares? She sprinted at nine miles an hour.
Bass from her “Sweat” playlist pounded in her ears, inciting her heart. Her new fluorescent running shoes barely touched the belt. Every ounce of fat on her body cried a salty river.
She could almost reach him.
Images of her fingers wrapped around his neck warred with the flashes of her legs straddling his waist. Why couldn’t she take Liz’s advice, and just sleep with him? What was she so afraid of?
Her breath billowed from her in a curtain of fog, but Julie couldn’t stop running. Her legs weren’t listening to her anymore. Her arms cranked in blazing circles the way train wheels kept winding. The way her mind kept winding.
Concentrate on something else. Anything else. You have muffin top and Patrick called you boring. He left you. He clearly cheated on you with Celeste the wannabe. The whore. Sophia is a two-faced bitch.
Julie ran faster, but Nico’s face was still there.
You’re mad at Elise. Work. Yes, work. She fucking cockblocked you.
Something didn’t make sense. Who was this guy? He said he was a player. But, he was sweet, too. Thoughtful. Funny. It just didn’t add up. Why couldn’t she get a good read on him?
Don’t think about him. Think of something else. Anything else. Chocolate. Yes, chocolate is better than sex. Sex. No!
In the mirror, Julie found his eyes and for some reason she couldn’t explain, she couldn’t look away. For what seemed like forever, the portal between them flooded with every conflicting emotion she had about him. She almost didn’t mind, until she realized he was walking toward her now.
Her stride widened and when he neared close enough to touch her, in the most graceless and uncoordinated fumble ever, those legs with the mind of their own wiped out from beneath her.
In a whirling blur, Julie grabbed the red emergency stop key and the treadmill screeched to a jarring halt. Her body floated in the air. Smeared faces and black rubber faded into a wave of red as her head hit the mat.
“Julie? Are you okay? Julie, can you hear me?” A muffled voice sounded like it came from under water, calling to her. “Do you need me to call the paramedics?”
Julie managed a pained grunt.
“Get me some clean towels for her head and call the paramedics,” the voice yelled to no one in particular.
She shifted on the floor and cracked her eyes. Nico sat beside her, his handsome face etched with worry. Touching lightly, he parted her hair. “Looks like she’s got a pretty good gash here.”
“Don’t touch her, man,” another guy’s voice warned. “Let the paramedics do it. If anything happens, you’ll make the club liable.”
Julie lifted her head toward the voice. Jeff. She hated him for good reason. Wasn’t there something on his phone he should be looking at? He’d let her die if it were up to him.
“Just get me the towels and shut the fuck up, Jeff.” Nico’s lashes fluttered.
If she could move more than an inch, she’d like to kiss Nico for that one. Her head was cradled in his palm as his splayed fingers raked through Julie’s hair. He was so close and he smelled so good. Deeply, she inhaled, trying to discern his scent.
Was that lemon? Cotton?
She blinked back the urge to sleep.
His eyes fell on her and she looked up at him. “No, don’t call the paramedics.” Julie placed her hand on Nico’s arm.
He lowered his face to hers. A pink flush colored his cheeks. “Julie, I’m here for you. Don’t move.”
“I’m fine. It’s just my head. It hurts a little right here.” She touched the spot off the center of her forehead where Nico parted her hair. Her fingers dabbed at the sticky wetness and she brought them to her eyes.
“I’m bleeding,” she said through shallow breaths.
“Not too bad, but we do need to get you cleaned up. Think you can sit up?”
She rolled to her side and pushed off of her hand.
“Slowly. Don’t try to move too fast, Julie. I’ve got you.” From behind her, Nico laced his hands around her waist and helped her to her feet.
The room spun as Julie struggled to find her footing.
“She’s all right. Let’s give her some room,” Nico commanded. Fifteen or so people lined the mat, staring at her, horror and worry written on their faces. And while her head hurt, at that moment, Julie was more embarrassed than anything. Blood rushed to her head and she held Nico’s arm tighten around her.
As hazy as her mind was at the moment, Julie reveled in the strength of Nico’s capable hands.
“Whoa, there. I’ve got you.” Nico swept Julie off her wobbly feet into his arms. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said as Julie’s head fell back over his arm.
He shook her. “Wake up now. No sleeping. Not for at least two or three hours.” He nuzzled her chin with his nose. “Where were you running to? We’re not giving out any Olympic gold medals today.”