by Dixon,Jules
I was trying to give legitimate reasons but everything I said came out with an uncomfortable edge.
“Again, you’re a fucking idiot!”
“Stop saying that!” I grunted.
“No, I won’t. Presley will probably call me an asshole for suggesting that you two could have something real together, something more than a trainer/trainee relationship. You turned around and told her everything I was spouting was crap. She probably didn’t sound happy ‘cause she had one hell of a hangover. You need to get your shit straight, Jude. I like Willow. I’m going to make sure she stays happy cause when Willow’s not happy it makes me unhappy. Have you ever seen me unhappy?”
I went to answer “no” but he cut me off.
“It’s not pretty, Jude. You cause that unhappy feeling again and I’ll make your pretty face not pretty, too.”
“Are you threatening me?” My jaw tightened and my legs rolled to the edge of the bed.
“No, I’m trying to get your head out of your ass! You had a beautiful girl right at your fingertips, a beautiful girl wanting you, ready to be with you, trying to trust you. Screw personal training. You can find another client, but you’ll never find another Presley.”
He’s right about that. Fuck!
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Is she okay today?”
“No. I just talked to Willow and Presley hasn’t eaten since yesterday morning. Apparently this concerns Willow a lot. She wouldn’t tell me why.”
I lay back in my bed. “I tried to text her a reminder for our session, but I haven’t heard anything back.”
“And you won’t. She’s asleep, again. You and I both know that if Presley hasn’t eaten tomorrow, she shouldn’t be working out. Jude, I know we’ve only known each other for a month and you have no real reason to listen to me, but bro, you screwed up. Make it right. These are two gorgeous girls who deserve good guys, if we’re lucky enough to be those two guys—”
“I hear you, Kanyon. Shit!” I sat back up and ran my hand through my hair. “Presley has a date with the moody bartender from Two Fine on Tuesday.”
“So? Get her before he does. When she shows tomorrow, be the biggest pussy on Earth and get that woman to feel something for you again. Make it clear she shouldn’t go on that date with that guy. I know you’ve got moves.” Kanyon chuckled. “So use them.”
“Okay, I hear you. Just don’t call me a fucking idiot again. I really hate that and it makes me want to hate you.”
He chuckled again. “I’ll stop calling you one when you stop being one.”
I released a small, uncomfortable laugh. “Different subject. Quaker Steak and Lube, Thursday night?”
“Sure. Meet at your house. Maybe with Willow and Presley?”
“Maybe. And hopefully.”
“Good luck, Jude.”
“Thanks.”
And then it was 4:55 a.m. Monday morning at Triple R, and there was no sign of Presley. I turned to Emerson.
“Hey, Presley said she gave you an envelope on Friday. Where is it?” I leaned over the desk waving in her face to get her attention when she pretended not to hear me.
“I don’t remember that happening. If Princess did, it would be in your mailbox.”
Emerson shot her response back calmly, but I could tell she was lying. One, Presley wouldn’t lie. She had no reason to. Two, Emerson would. She had every messed-up reason to.
“Don’t lie to me, Emerson.”
“Don’t call me a liar, Jude, and don’t have someone I barely know take me home. How did you know he wasn’t going to rape me?”
I grumbled under my breath, rifling through my mailbox at the back of the front desk. “Sounds like it was the other way around to me.”
There was no envelope.
“What did you say?” she spat.
“Nothing. I’m going to use the restroom. If Presley gets here, tell her I’ll be right back. And be nice for once!”
“Aye-aye, captain.” Emerson saluted me with her middle finger.
I headed into the locker room and pulled my phone out of my locker.
There was a text at 4:33 a.m.
Presley: Not feeling well. Sorry for late notice. Won’t be in today. Goodbye
Jude: :-(
I was the biggest pussy in history for sending a sad face, but I held out hope that maybe the move would at least inspire a return text and then hopefully an invitation to a conversation and then…
I returned to the gym floor.
Emerson flipped her hair over her shoulder and said, “Princess is stretching and waiting for you, your highness.”
But I thought?
I walked around the desk to the stretching area and sure enough, Presley sat on the mat, her back to me. Her eyes held to mine in the mirror as a forced smile trailed through her sad face.
How do I play this? The real me … that’s how.
I squatted next to her.
“Presley…”
She turned her head to me, and I searched her face for some emotion I could hold onto, to build us back to being solid.
“I’m really sorry.”
But there was nothing.
“I’m here. Let’s get this over with so I can go home to get ready for work. I didn’t bring my usual wardrobe change with me.” Her words were straightforward and detached from any sentiment other than distance. Her hurt dug into my gut as she cringed away from me. She stood and grabbed her water bottle. “Okay, I’m ready.”
It was going to take some work to mend this. I’d done hard labor before, building houses. I’d buckle down and put in the time to fix the mess I’d created.
No, this was a colossal-sized fuck-up.
Since she may not have eaten, and I didn’t want to betray Willow’s trust in Kanyon, I kept the workout light.
“Let’s start with a little cardio warm-up.”
I had her walk at a slow pace and even that seemed to fatigue her. After she stepped off the treadmill, I walked her around the gym for a cooldown.
“How was volunteering yesterday?”
She took a little while and everything in me wanted to ask again, but I held my tongue.
“It was okay. There’s this little dog that I can’t get out of my mind. If she doesn’t get adopted this week, she’s going to be…” She rubbed her temples. The move told me the words she couldn’t say. “She needs a family that will understand her. She’s got a little extra weight around the middle and doesn’t warm up to people immediately. I can see a great dog in her. I hope someone else can too, before it’s too late.”
“Why not adopt her yourself?”
Presley’s eyes, which had been dropped to the floor, met mine as we approached the mirror. It was obviously something she’d considered. She refocused ahead of us as we walked and stayed quiet.
“Ninja is a stray I found at a construction job site. Either he’d crawled into the dumpster and couldn’t get out, or someone had put him there. I don’t know which is worse to think happened. As soon as I heard him I knew he was mine. He helped me through a pretty rough stretch after a long-term relationship ended. Maybe this little dog was brought into your life to be there for you like you could be there for her.”
“I just don’t know if I’m ready,” she said while she finished her last steps around the track and followed me to the warm-up area.
“Did you get my texts last night?” I asked.
“Not until this morning. I went to bed early.”
“Your text this morning said you’re not feeling well. How are you feeling now?”
“Honestly, like crap and a little hungry.”
“Maybe we should call it a day so you can go eat and rest?”
“No. I need to keep up my workouts. It’s the one thing that keeps me sane and in tune with my body.”
After making our way back to the stretching area, I grabbed an elastic band and instructed her on exercises that wouldn’t overexert her already fatigued body. Yet, she would definitely feel th
e effects tomorrow. I stood behind her and gave her encouraging words softly and gently in her ear. I made sure to watch her breathing and for any signs that she was pushing herself too far. This workout was more mental than physical, getting her to a place where she was feeling something other than upset—a change of focus.
I asked her when she had to be at work today, thinking that maybe I could take her to breakfast after this to talk privately. She said she had to be in early for a meeting and she wasn’t looking forward to seeing some Drexel guy.
“Why not?”
Presley did some woodchopper core exercises with the band. Her intense focus in the midst of her depressed mood amazed me.
She sighed. “Cause he’s an ass to every woman in the place. He makes the crudest remarks. Mostly innuendos and juvenile jokes, but since he’s usually the top salesperson, I don’t think the management will ever do anything about it.”
“Sorry to hear that. Guys can be jerks.”
“You can say that again,” she mumbled and her eyes darted to mine.
“Guys can be jerks,” I said again, firmly.
She let out a muffled chuckle but quickly her mood deteriorated right back to where she was previously.
“Are you going to be okay, Presley?” I stood in front of her and adjusted the directional pull of the band.
Like many questions today, she chose not to answer. Instead, she asked me what I knew about Rahl.
I shared the truth. “Don’t know him that well. I’ve only worked at Two Fine for about a month. Why?”
“We have a date tomorrow night at Brix. Was just wondering.” She pulled the band taut. Her shoulders rolled forward, indicating she wasn’t totally comfortable with the conversation she’d started. I placed a hand on her back, and she straightened her posture. I moved my hand to her shoulder. She recoiled from the touch like my hand was burning her.
“I hope you get some rest and feel better before then.” The words were sincere. I was worried about her, more worried than I had been about any other person for a long while. I gave a supportive squeeze of her shoulder and stepped back.
On her last set of a chest-toning exercise, I stepped in front of her. My hands on hers, I helped the last movements be the best of the ten count. Her body responded very little and internally that lack of response tore a hole in my chest.
“Like that, Presley. Three … two … one. Good job.” She dropped the band to the floor, and I tagged her water bottle from a bench, handing it over. “How do you feel?”
She drained the bottle. A little life came back into her cheeks. “Actually, better. Mitch never did anything with the bands. I really liked that workout. I can tell I’m going to be very sore tomorrow. I had a buildup of tension everywhere and every move helped release some of that.” She met my gaze and her sad green beauties cut me with the raggedness of unpolished emeralds. “Thanks for a great workout, Pony—” Her eyes widened. “Jude.”
I grinned at her almost slip-up. “You’re welcome, Presley.”
The small smile on her face was so much better than the frown she had been wearing for the last hour.
“Did you ever find that envelope I mentioned Friday? At least I think I did, right?” She walked to her bag.
“Yeah, you did. But no, I didn’t.”
“Here.” Presley tugged a rolled and rubber-banded paper from her bag before returning to where I stood. “It’s the original sketch.” Her eyes flashed between mine. She sighed. “I should have known this was never meant to be mine anyway.”
The light paper felt like a brick in my hand.
Presley threw her bag over her shoulder and walked out the door.
I hated the emptiness I’d brought on myself. I did what I thought was morally and ethically right, but every part of my body was screaming that nothing was right, and I got in return what I fucking deserved.
I moved to the desk to fill out the VIP info form.
Blake’s voice rumbled behind me. “I’ll take that when you’re done.”
“Good morning, Blake. Here you go.” I handed him the form and waited to find out my fate as Presley’s trainer while he perused the paper.
“I think you redeemed yourself today, Jude. I watched carefully and as soon as I saw Presley I could tell she wasn’t feeling well. I think you realized that, too. It’s good to have that intuitive side as a trainer.”
I decided not to tell him it was more insider information than intuition.
He nodded over his shoulder. “Walk with me.” We headed toward his office. “I liked what you did with her and I’m sure she’s going to be feeling the effects tomorrow. Good job. I’m glad Presley convinced me to let you have another chance.” Blake eyed me up. “She’s quite the young woman. Can’t imagine why someone hasn’t snatched her up yet. Hopefully the guy who is lucky enough to earn her heart realizes what a treasure he has and doesn’t piss it away. Good luck, Jude.” He walked into his office.
I collapsed against the wall in the hallway. I’d never been punched in the gut with words, but Blake succeeded. Maybe he saw our interaction last week and witnessed the attraction we had, or maybe it was her pleas to let me continue as her trainer. Whatever it was, his speech was like his blessing to pursue her.
Maybe he thinks of her as a sister?
My brain ran through how to proceed. First, I couldn’t be her trainer if I wanted to be something else to her. Maybe I could talk to Kai about what I thought would be the right training for Presley, and she could consult me before making any changes? Then I could ask Presley out, but one big problem stood in the way. The Ogre.
Rahl won’t let you join them at their table if you’re alone.
I needed a date for tomorrow night, and I didn’t really have an alternative.
“Emerson?”
She raised her head. “What, Jude?”
“You want to go get a drink tomorrow after work about seven at Brix, just as coworkers?”
Emerson eyed me up with a scowl. “You’re not going to dump me off on someone else, right?”
“No, this time, I promise, I’ll take you there and get you home.”
“All right. I’ll go.” She spun her chair to file something in a mailbox. “At least I’ve seen what goods I might get to enjoy if I play the night right.”
It didn’t surprise me that she’d lied about the drawing. I decided not to make her question my motives by dismissing her assumption of what might happen at the conclusion of our evening. She and I were coworkers and only coworkers.
I just needed a chance to tell Presley I’d made a big mistake.
I won’t mess up this chance.
Chapter Eleven
Presley
Lounging on the sofa, I choked down a cup of minestrone soup. If I wasn’t in such a piss-poor mood, the cup of shell noodles, beans, and veggies in a tomato broth would’ve been delicious, but my attitude even spoiled my taste buds. Willow made the thoughtful concoction before she left for work, promising intervention if at least two cups weren’t gone from the container in the refrigerator by the time she returned. Now I could pour the food down the sink disposal, but I forced myself to make an adult choice to avoid the wrath of purple hair. I ingested the two cups, one at a time.
I called into work and claimed I probably had whatever Drexel had last week, even though whatever he had on Thursday was either brown-bottle flu or an overconfident attitude—or more likely, both. The first ailment he would’ve brought on himself thinking he could celebrate another successful month, and the second disorder was a character flaw he’d probably never get rid of. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the deluge of crap comments and wisecracks from his giant asshole of a mouth today.
My behavior wasn’t productive, and I made a much bigger deal than I should out of something I never had. It was the thought that I could’ve had something special that kept me ruminating in a circle of unanswerable questions.
After I sent the text that I wasn’t going to be at
training, a tidal wave of guilt had rushed over me. More like culpability for continuing my training, with or without him. I’d worked too damn hard to let any man mess with my head in a way that would mess with my body. So I dragged myself from bed and made my way to my training session. I either proved I was a glutton for punishment or proved to Jude I was okay after his declaration on Saturday. Pretty sure I accomplished some of both.
Jude surprised me with a change in workout. I think I surprised him by handing over my drawing as if I didn’t want to have the personal reminder of him anywhere near me. Whatever hadn’t happened between us was never meant to be, and I needed to accept it. Believing I was at a point where I could be only his trainee was probably delusional but I pulled the illusion off that one time. The significant feat felt like I’d stood up for myself. Although, repeating the performance on a weekly basis seemed like a monumental act that I might not be able to accomplish.
Monday came and went quickly without much transformation in my attitude. When the sun came up on Tuesday, I rolled over to have the alarm clock glare that it was after seven a.m. I considered making my illness a multi-day event, but I didn’t. I rolled out of bed and was at the dealership before my starting time of eight a.m., putting minimal effort into my appearance. I chose simple dark brown slacks, a creamy-white silk shirt, and a camel-colored sweater with kicky cheetah-print heels on my feet in an attempt to put a little boldness in my step.
I was sitting at my desk when my phone buzzed.
Rahl: You still in for tonight at Brix?
I took a deep breath. I could say I wasn’t feeling well, and even if he asked Jude about my condition, it would have been a passable truth, but I needed to move on.
Prez: I’ll be there. See you right after 6pm.
Rahl: Looking forward to it.
I’d use the date as a reason to keep the day going and not head straight to bed after getting home.