Cole slipped his pass card into his pocket and carrying his water bottle like he was going to the gallows, made his way to the back of the gymnasium. An extremely perky thirty-something who'd identified herself at the door as Aimee, the instructor, made her way to the front and began chatting to a small group of women. Judging by their tasselled combat pants, bright coloured singlets and masses of wristbands with bells they were obviously regulars. Cole was not a regular. He was wearing his old track pants with a hole in the knee and a crinkled ACDC t-shirt he'd found in the bottom of the wardrobe. He longed to be a conscientious objector.
Because, if truth be told Cole would rather have chewed his own feet off than go to a Zumba class but Adelaide had surprised him earlier in the afternoon with a ten class pass that had cost her over a hundred dollars. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her he wasn’t that into dancing. Why he couldn’t hit the real gym — the one with sweat and weights and men — he wasn’t sure, but according to his mother and sister, Zumba would kill two birds with one stone. He didn’t want to have anything to do with any birds. Or stones. The only things he wanted to kill at the moment were the women in his family.
After handing over his card, Cole found a spot at the back of the room and put his water bottle and towel next to the wall. He looked around, not recognising a single soul. It seemed, however, that he had been recognised. Thirty heads twisted simultaneously in his direction, staring for a few seconds longer than was comfortable. Thirty pairs of eyes roamed up and down his body. Some of the women whispered behind their hands and one woman even had the cheek to let out a very subtle wolf-whistle. Softly, mind, but he heard it. He felt like a piece of meat or a prizewinning exhibit in the Merrifield Show. This is more awkward than the first time he’d gone to the school disco at age fourteen and come out of the toilets with his fly undone. Right when the teachers had turned the lights back on.
Swallowing, he moved onto to the gymnasium floor, facing the area where the music was set up. The women, though pretending not to, were still staring. If only he could take his stuff and go but he couldn’t, they’d realise for sure and by tomorrow he’d be branded the guy who’d attempted to brave the Zumba den and failed. Besides, Adelaide was right. He did need a break. With the opening of the shop looming, he was spending more time thinking about it than was healthy. He was also beginning to have sugar withdrawals from the huge amounts of icing he’d been consuming. Ganache, butter cream, Vienna… If he didn’t take some form of exercise, he wouldn’t be able to wrap an apron round his waist by the time the opening came. And Zumba was meant to be fun, wasn’t it? All those wiggling hips and butts — it had to be worth a laugh if nothing else. It'd be good for him to relax and get energised. If only those women would just stop staring.
Approaching the front of the class, Aimee donned a microphone, Madonna style. She flipped her perky curled ponytail over her shoulder and bounced onto the stage at the front of the gymnasium giving Cole a perfect view of the ‘I heart Zumba’ tattoo on her bicep. Jesus, her biceps were bigger than his. If that was what a couple of dance classes did for you he was definitely staying, even if he did look like a dick.
"Welcome Zumba family. I hope you're ready to boogie. We've got a couple of newbies tonight so we'll take it slow. Don't want to scare them away, do we?"
At that, the entire group turned to face him again and began to clap and whoop like they were at a rock concert. Which was even more embarrassing.
"Fabulous," said the girl standing beside him, the pink in her cheeks turning even pinker. "Like I need the whole town gawking. The idea of standing back here is to NOT attract attention."
Cole chuckled. "I wouldn't worry. Once they see me dancing, they'll forget about you."
Shit. That made him sound like he was in love with himself. Which he wasn’t. Hopefully, the town gossip regarding his shorts hadn’t reached her yet.
"First time as well?" she enquired, oblivious.
Phew.
"Unfortunately. I was told I need to get out of the house more. The classes were a gift, if you could call it that. I haven't danced since I was in high school and I looked like one legged version of Michael Jackson then, so I’m not expecting miracles."
“‘Thriller’ happens to be one of my favourite music videos. I like the zombies.”
“Hopefully, I won’t look quite that bad by the end of this.”
“I’m fairly certain I will. Exercise and I don’t have a very good relationship. I'm attempting to get fitter, and well, thinner." She fiddled with her t-shirt self-consciously before turning back to the front.
“You look pretty fit to me,” he replied, instantly wishing he hadn’t because it made him sound like a sleaze when he was trying to be friendly.
“Thanks.”
The girl’s cheek dimpled. She had long lashes. Quite pretty ones that framed two large eyes the vibrant colour of freshly cut grass. Her cheeks were plump and healthy looking. And she smiled at him like he was the only person in the room apart from her. He wished that were the case. Then he wouldn’t be doing a Zumba class.
The session began.
After a demonstration of the moves — for the benefit 'of our newbies' — Aimee switched the music on and the dancing commenced. The warm up was easy enough and the music loud and fun. Cole could see how people got addicted to Zumba. It was more like a dance party than an exercise class with everyone yelling and laughing. The first ten minutes went by in a spin. He was almost enjoying himself even if had crashed into the woman on the other side of him three times.
Then they began the cardio section. Suddenly the music was faster, the moves more intricate and Aimee’s feet and arms accelerated towards the speed of light. In front of him a pair of sixty-year-old Zumba twins were booty shaking and milk-shaking and popping. How the they hell did they do that? They were turning themselves inside out. Cole felt like he’d been beamed into a rap video but forgotten to bring his blingy necklaces.
Up the front Aimee was squealing — the enthusiastic grin never waning — to go left, right, back, forward, shake that butt and shimmy. Before this, he'd assumed he was reasonably fit but he could now see that was not that case. The sweat was rolling down his temple, some of it had gone in his eye and it stung like crazy. Worse, he was being out-classed by a bunch of elderly ladies in combat pants.
Between the sixth and seventh song Cole gratefully raced for the security of his water bottle. As he guzzled water and tried to catch his breath he saw the girl who'd spoken to him earlier from the corner of his eye. She was panting like an overheated puppy, but she wasn’t giving up. There was a look of rapt concentration on her face and the tip of her tongue was protruding from the corner of her lip as she attempted to remember and copy the steps. For some strange reason, Cole discovered it was turning him on. There was no way he could concentrate with her doing that, not when his mind had descended into the gutter and he was thinking of other things she might be able to do. It was practically pornographic, even though it wasn’t.
After twenty minutes or so, Aimee announced that the group should form a circle. The regulars, who obviously knew the upcoming track well, hollered for joy and got ready for action, each one facing the person in front. Cole took his place behind his fellow novice and watched the steps as Aimee gave a quick demonstration. Then the dance began.
It was useless. He was flapping and flopping, positive his dance didn’t look a thing like the one the instructor was doing. Her hips were moving double time and her arms swishing in rhythm to the beat. Her belly button had taken on a life of its own. Then, just as Cole thought he might have made a breakthrough, the instructor indicated that the class should change direction and the girl in front of him tripped over her shoelace, landing, SPLOT! Right at his feet. Engrossed as he was in not looking like a fool, he flipped right over the top of her, somersaulting and landing with a thud on her left calf. His old worn t-shirt ripped from neck to hem where the girl had tried to fend his falling body from hers. His chest and abs would have been completely exposed had they not become glued to her singlet with sweat.
At least that stopped the giggling side-glances from the twins on the other side of the circle.
"Ouch! Bugger!"
A look of pain came over the girl’s face. She grabbed her ankle.
Cole sat up, untangling himself from her legs. Shit. He’d hurt her. "Are you okay?"
"My foot." A tiny tear formed in the corner of her eye as she pulled her sock away and they both stared into the space beneath where the skin had already taken on a funny bluish tinge and was beginning to swell.
Jesus, he was such a dick. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I fell on you like that. I’m really sorry.”
The girl sniffed. “It’s… it’s okay. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Aimee had stopped the music. The class gathered around. "Are you all right, Olivia?"
"Can you walk?"
"Is it broken?"
"Yes. No and I don't think so," the girl replied.
"You won't be able to drive home," said one lady. "I did my ankle at karate and I couldn’t put pressure on it for a week. If you give me your keys, I'll drop you home. You're only round the corner from me."
"I'm sure it'll be okay once I get an ice pack on it. I'm supposed to be going to Alice's for dinner, anyway. Could you drop me there?" The girl attempted to get up but fell back to the floor. "Arrgghh! Or maybe not."
“A trip to emergency might be a better idea. It looks nasty.”
The girl was putting on a brave face but she looked as if she was going to cry. “I guess so.”
Cole, who had managed to scramble to his feet by this stage, scanned the rest of the group. They may have been fit as fiddles but he had an inkling none of them could lift her and she certainly wasn’t walking anywhere in a hurry.
"Here. Let me. I'll give you a ride. It’s the least I can do seeing as I caused the injury. You can send someone back for your car later," he said, hitching his arms under her and hoisting her up.
Okay, so that hadn’t been a clever idea. He could feel himself beginning to buckle already. Either he was more out of shape than he’d realised or the girl weighed a good sight more than he'd expected. Shifting her body so she leant against him, he instructed one of the ladies to fetch her things.
"Are you sure?" The girl had wrapped her arms around his neck and was clinging to his naked chest. "I don't want to put you out."
Cole smiled down at her. She was quite a delight.
"No problem. If it gets me out of this torture chamber, I'd carry you to Antarctica."
Well, maybe not Antarctica. She weighed a tonne. Which was odd because she don’t look heavy in the least. She had lovely curves.
Out at his car, Cole deposited the girl next to the door while he unlocked it. "Are you right to get in by yourself?"
"Yes, thank you. You know, it's very kind of you to give me a lift. Beth would've done it."
"I know, but I don't think Beth could lift you." Shit. "Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded."
"Its okay. It's not the first time I’ve been called fat."
Cole wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. "You're not fat. Curves are good. Sexy, if you must know. Men like girls with a bit of meat on their bones."
The girl stared at him. He could see a glimmer of something like mirth in her eyes.
"I’m digging myself deeper, aren't I?"
"It might be wise to stop now."
Cole swung the door open and watched as she tossed her things onto the floor of the car, then held on to the roof and door, doing a little jump to get herself into the four wheel drive. She jiggled with the seatbelt and sat looking at him, her wide eyes blinking slowly. A stray hair had escaped from her ponytail and was falling across her face. He watched as she pushed it back, wishing his hand had done it, wishing his fingers were caressing the creamy skin along the side of her neck, his lips following their course.
God, he needed to get a grip. It was pathetic to be a slave to such thoughts when he’d only just met her. But there was something about her, something insanely attractive, something that made him want to hold her and keep her safe. Not that that was getting them anywhere closer to the hospital. Dismissing the idea, he dashed around to the other side of the car and got in.
"Where to?"
"Hospital, please, driver," the girl joked. "I'm Olivia by the way. Olivia Merrifield."
"Cole Anderson at your service."
"Nice to meet you Cole."