~Sabrina~
The GPS says I’ve driven past Ben’s gym three times, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out how. Because there is no gym here. Did he give me the wrong address?
“You’ve reached your destination on the left.”
“Bullshit,” I mutter to myself. That looks like a warehouse. But suddenly, a man walks out the front door carrying a duffle bag. The kind of gear a person takes to the gym.
Seriously? I pull into a parking space and cut the engine, looking around. Either this is it, or I’m going to get murder-death-killed.
Because this doesn’t look like a gym.
I pull my bag out of the car, walk to the entrance, and open the door, shocked to see that it is, in fact, Sound Fitness.
Ben sees me right away and walks over. Yep, he’s still hot as hell. No one warned me that my personal trainer, the person I would be attached to at the hip for the next six weeks, is a hottie. Towering well over six feet tall, with blond hair and blue eyes, he’s attractive. Add in the muscles for days, and the devastating smile, and he could probably drop a girl at a hundred paces.
I’ve been around some of the most attractive men in show business, and this guy leaves them all in the dust.
It’s almost annoying.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I begin as soon as he walks to me. “I’m never late, but I couldn’t find this place. Why isn’t there a sign out front?”
“The former owner never had one. It’s taken me a while to have a logo designed and stuff, but a sign is on the way.”
I take a deep breath and ignore the smell of sweat. I can see that it’s a well-maintained, clean place. But the smell of perspiration is always present in places like these.
I avoid them like the plague.
“I won’t be late again,” I promise him.
“I believe you. Go get changed, and we’ll get started.”
He leads me to the door of the women’s locker room, and I hustle inside, choose a temporary locker, and change into yoga shorts and a loose tank top. I pull my blond hair into a ponytail, slip on my sneakers, and lock my things in a locker.
Ben’s waiting for me when I come out of the locker room.
“Thanks for the extra day to get settled,” I say. “It helped a lot.”
“You’re welcome. Starting tomorrow, I’ll meet you at your house, and we’ll start a morning routine there. So today was your last day to sleep in.”
“I was up at six,” I inform him.
“Like I said, last day to sleep in.”
I feel my eyes narrow. “I’m not a morning person. And I’m not complaining, I’m warning you.”
That easy grin I’m already coming to appreciate slides over his handsome face. “I’ve been warned, then. Okay, I’m going to warm you up with ten minutes on the bike.”
He gets me situated on a stationary bike and then walks away to talk to a customer. He’s distracted today, I can tell. I’m sure that being torn from his business to work with me has taken a toll on him. Luke told me that Ben owns this gym, but that it’s new for him. And now I’m taking up a huge chunk of time.
I assume the studio is paying him well but it’s still an inconvenience.
I hate the stationary bike. Truth be told, I hate all of the equipment in a gym. I prefer to be outside, running, biking, or even kayaking. It’s one of the reasons I moved to Bend about ten years ago. There’s so much to do outdoors, even in the winter. I’ve become addicted to cross-country skiing.
Who knew the famous little girl from dozens of movies and TV shows back in the day would turn out to be an outdoorsy hermit?
Not me, that’s for sure.
But I’m not here for fun, I’m here for a job. Which means, I can’t be choosy. I’ll leave the how and why up to the professional.
Ben.
Bless his sexy little heart.
Just as I’ve started building up a sweat, he rushes over to me and grins when he sees how far I’ve gone in such a short time.
“You’re hustling.”
“I like to ride my bike,” I say. “My real bike.”
“Really? I like to cycle, too. We’ll incorporate that into your routine.”
I grin and follow him to the weight area.
“Cardio is going to be important because it sounds like you’re going to be put through the paces with a stunt instructor, as the fights in the movie will be choreographed. You’ll need the endurance for long days of training.
“But we also need to define your upper body muscles, particularly your shoulders and arms. Your character is an FBI agent badass who chases serial killers for a living, and she’s going to be in top physical condition.”
“Agreed,” I reply with a nod. “It’s the first thing I said to Luke when he told me about the role—that I’m not in shape for it. And I’m no slouch.”
“Not at all,” Ben agrees. “You’re in great lifestyle shape.”
I tilt my head to the side. “What does that mean?”
“That you can go about a normal active lifestyle without trouble. You can hike a mountain, or run a 5k, or kayak across a lake just fine. You don’t need muscle definition for that. Now, protecting yourself and others for a living requires a different level of fitness.”
“And we’re going to get me there so I look the part for the movie.”
“Exactly. We’re going to start with legs today.”
“I thought you said you wanted to define my upper body.”
“And we will, but you need a solid foundation under you to support what we’ll put your upper body through. So today, we’re going to work on strengthening your legs a bit, then we’ll move to arms and core tomorrow.”
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
He’s not distracted anymore. All of his attention is on me. I don’t remember the last time I had a man’s undivided attention. Especially a handsome man.
It’s been a long time.
And of course it happens with a guy I’m working with, in a city nowhere near where I live.
Because that’s just my luck.
I focus on the tasks at hand: squats, kettlebell swings, and lunges. My legs are rubber by the time Ben ends the session.
“Shit, I’m out of shape.” I pat my face with a towel. I’m a sweaty heap, and I’m exhausted.
“I worked you hard,” he concedes with a smile. “Come on, I’ll stretch you out.”
He tosses a mat onto the floor, and I lie on my back. He pushes my legs up and then to the side. He stretches out my back and my arms.
His movements are quick and efficient, his hands strong and confident.
I really need to work on shaking off the lust I have going on here.
“Go change, and I’ll take you to lunch,” he says, surprising me.
“I have lunch at home.”
He pats my shoulder. “Trust me, Rina.”
Hearing my nickname has never sent electricity up my spine.
Until now.
It doesn’t take long for me to clean up and get dressed. When I walk out of the locker room, Ben’s waiting for me. I see he’s changed from gym clothes into jeans and a T-shirt. His arms are ridiculous, the muscles well-defined under the sleeves of his shirt. It’s cool out, so he snags a black jacket off a hook as he leads me outside.
“We’re just going down the street. Mind if we walk?”
“I’m with you,” I reply, walking next to him as he sets off down the sidewalk toward the heart of the city. “Did you grow up here?”
“No, I’m a transplant from Wyoming.”
I glance up at him in surprise. “Really? Why here?”
“I like it here. And my best friend moved here. I visited a couple of times and decided to make the move, as well. Did you grow up in California?”
“Yep. Born and raised. Started working at three.”
“That’s pretty young.”
“I was a cute baby. In movies by four, and on television with a contract for a sitcom by nine.”
“I take it you didn’t go to regular school?”
“No.” I smile and dodge a crack in the sidewalk. “We had tutors on set.”
“Do you still live in LA?”
“Hell, no.” I shake my head adamantly. “Never again. I live in central Oregon now.”
I’m sure he has a ton of questions. Everyone does. But rather than ask, he’s quiet as he leads me into a restaurant. We’re seated quickly.
I don’t have to pay attention to being recognized anymore. For a long time, it happened everywhere. But now that I’ve been out of the business for a dozen years or more, I’m rarely recognized.
It’s awesome.
It also helps that I went back to my natural blond hair color, rather than the dark hue that was part of my image for so long.
Once we’re seated and have menus, Ben turns to me. “I’m going to show you how to order healthy food off a menu.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “And here I thought this was just a friendly lunch.”
“It’s both.” He slips into the booth next to me so he can share my menu, and I feel my heart beat a little faster at the close proximity. “The first thing most people gravitate toward when eating healthily is the salads. But if you look at the caloric content, some of them are worse than getting a burger.”
“I’ll have a burger then.”
He glances at me. “Smartass. I want you to stick with high-protein meals. You absolutely could order the burger with a lettuce bun and a salad on the side with no dressing. I usually ask for a side of lemon to squeeze on the salad as dressing.”
“Mm, delicious.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “Don’t worry, I used to count every calorie that went into my mouth. I can do this.”
“I don’t want you to obsess about the calories,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re going to be burning a lot of them, and replacing them is good. But I want your food choices to be deliberate.”
“Got it.” I scan the menu. “I think I’ll have cheesecake for dessert.” His head whips up at that, and I can’t help but laugh. “Got you.”
“You get one cheat day a week.” He slips back into the seat on the other side of the table. “Save the cheesecake for that day.”
“I can cheat?”
“A little. If you’re craving something, do it all on that one day. Your body can’t hold onto everything you consume in that day. If you spread it out over the whole week, you will hold onto the sugar and fat.”
“That makes sense. Okay, I’ll save it.”
I end up ordering the burger with a lettuce bun but no side. If I can’t have dressing, what’s the point of salad?
When we’re done eating and leave the restaurant, I turn to walk back toward the gym, but Ben stops me.
“I want you to meet someone. It’s just across the street.”
I look over and see a cupcake shop. Succulent Sweets.
“I’m one hundred percent sure this isn’t approved for my diet plan,” I say as we cross the street.
“No, ma’am.”
“If you take me in there, I’ll hate you.”
He smirks and opens the door for me. “No, you won’t.”
I glare and walk in ahead of him. The luscious smell of chocolate and cherry and all of the goodness in the world assaults my nostrils.
“Hate with a passion,” I mutter as we walk through the dining room to a long, glass counter full of rows and rows of delectable cupcakes. “I’m coming straight here on cheat day. Screw cheesecake.”
“You’re a fan of sugar, then?” Ben asks.
“Isn’t everyone?”
“Not me,” he says with a shrug and then grins at the pretty brunette behind the counter. “Hey.”
“This is a nice surprise.” She walks around the counter to hug Ben. “What are you doing?”
“I wanted to introduce you to Sabrina. This is Nic, the best friend I mentioned earlier.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, offering my hand.
“Oh, and you’re the new client.” Nic smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“Nic is related to Luke Williams by marriage,” Ben says, surprising me.
“It’s a huge family,” Nic adds. “I’m married to Matt Montgomery, who is sort of a brother to Luke’s wife. It’s a story.”
“They’re all a little intimidating but very nice.” Ben smiles. “We just had lunch across the street, and I thought we’d pop in for a minute.”
“Can I get you anything?”
I whimper, making her laugh. “I’m on a strict diet plan, but I was just informed that I get a cheat day. You can bet on the fact that I’ll be here on that day. This all looks amazing.”
“I would love that,” Nic says. “In fact, why don’t the two of you come to dinner with Matt and me? Does Friday night work?”
“Is that my cheat day?” I ask Ben.
“You can pick the day,” he replies.
“Yes, Friday works,” I agree. “Thank you for asking us.”
“I’ll bring cupcakes. What flavor is your favorite?”
“All of them. I’m literally not picky. If it has sugar, I want it.”
“I’ll bring an assortment then.” She flashes a big smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Sabrina.”
“Same here.”
We leave the bakery and just start down the sidewalk toward the gym when I start to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Ben asks.
“Is it wrong that I’m going to work my ass off this week so I can have two cupcakes on Friday?”
“No, that’s the point,” he says.
“What do you eat on cheat days?”
“Pizza. Pepperoni pizza.”
“Mm. Pizza.”