I would prove him wrong.
Just like I’d prove Mason wrong, and he’d realize giving me up was a mistake. Then, I’d be back under his arm, under his sheets on rainy Sundays — back where I belonged.
Even with my new determination, I couldn’t meet Rhodes’ eyes when I walked through the gym door. Walking straight up to the treadmill, I hit the QUICK START button and began walking, staring straight ahead out the window that overlooked the golf course. After a minute had passed, Rhodes walked over to stand in front of the machine. He leaned over and paused it, bracing his hands on either side of the display and blocking my view of the course, forcing me to look at him. When I finally did pull my eyes to his, his features were softer. I tried not to notice the way his hair flitted over his brows as they pulled together and he exhaled.
“I’m sorry, Natalie.”
I shivered a bit when he said my name, but I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he was just saying it like a normal person yet for some reason the three syllables rolling off his tongue shot straight down between my thighs.
“I’m not sorry for pushing you, but I’m sorry for upsetting you.” His lips pressed together for a moment before he continued. “And I’m not ashamed of you.” Rhodes held my gaze. Even when I tried to look at the ground, he moved his head down into my view until I looked at him again. “Exactly the opposite, actually. You work hard. You want this, for whatever reason, and I can see it. That’s why I push you. I know you can work harder, go faster, lift more. I’m proud to have you as my client.”
I scoffed, the anger I felt from Saturday night resurfacing. “Oh yeah? Is that why you completely ignored me at Rook when I saw you with your…” I paused, not sure what to call Mrs. Landers. “Girlfriend?”
His mouth flattened into a thin line. “She’s a client, Natalie.”
“Is that right? Well damn, do you kiss on the necks of all your clients? I’ve been getting jipped.” I couldn’t believe those words just left my mouth and my cheeks flushed immediately, but I stood straight and kept my eyes on his.
He glared at me for a moment, his steady eyes threatening to weaken my resolve, but I remained poignant.
“You shouldn’t be smoking.”
I rolled my eyes at his attempt to change the subject. “I wasn’t smoking. If you hadn’t treated me like the plague and actually talked to me instead, you would know that.”
Again, I was surprised at the words leaving my mouth. They were a hell of a lot more confident than the girl saying them.
“I was just holding the hose for my friend. She doesn’t like to let it touch the table until it’s tapped.” I waved my hands in the air flittingly. “Some weird superstition or something.”
Rhodes kept his eyes on me, looking for a lie that wasn’t there. Finally, he nodded. “Fair enough,” he assessed, then he held out his hand.
I stared at it for a moment before grabbing it and letting him help me down off the machine.
“We need to get your weight. It’s been a week. Come on,” he said, nodding toward the office. “Let’s do it before you drink a bunch of water.”
I followed him back, my hand still tingling from where it had touched his. I couldn’t figure out if I was still angry at him or not, so I kept a frown in place just in case. He was always scowling, maybe I should do the same.
When we reached the office, he pointed to the tall, glass scale as he scoured his desk for my file. I eyed him silently, wondering if I had more questions for him or if I wanted to yell at him again. He had apologized for upsetting me, and he said he believed in me — which was exactly what I needed in that moment, wasn’t it? He was “proud to have me as a client,” which was why he pushed me. Maybe I didn’t need him as a friend, if I could have him as a pillar of support, instead.
It was too much to figure out in that moment, so I sighed and stepped up, closing my eyes as I waited for him to write down what was probably the same number as last week.
“Down eleven pounds,” he said and my eyes shot open. “Nice job.”
I stared at the number on the digital screen, my mouth hanging open. No. Way.
Rhodes let me stare for a moment and, thankfully, he didn’t make fun of me. When it had finally sank in that I was eleven pounds lighter than the week before, I slowly stepped off the scale, wincing at the pain I still felt in my legs after yesterday. Walking in the sand all night probably wasn’t the best way to recover from leg day.
Rhodes must have picked up on my expression. “How do your muscles feel?”
“Tight,” I answered, bracing myself with one hand on the wall as I lifted my foot and pulled it up toward my lower back to stretch out my quad. It killed me just to lift my leg at all. When I pulled it in toward my body, I cried out and let it drop back down to the floor.
Rhodes furrowed his brows. “Follow me.”
We headed back into the gym and I expected him to tell me to jump back on the treadmill, but he grabbed a yoga mat and a tennis ball, instead, before leading me out back to where we had our first outdoor session. I watched his back move as we walked, the muscles flexing beneath the thin fabric of his tattered blue tank top. His skin seemed darker today and I wondered if he had enjoyed the beach yesterday, too.
He found a shady spot in the grass beneath a Spanish oak tree and laid out the black mat. It was hot in the sun, but there was a slight breeze that, combined with the shade, made me glad we had moved outside.
“Lay down,” he commanded and I shivered again. His eyes were on me as he moved down to sit beside me, holding the tennis ball in his hand. “I’m going to roll out your muscles. You can do this at home, too — with a foam roller, a tennis ball, or just your hands.”
I nodded and he slowly moved his right hand to my right quad. The moment his hands touched my leg through the thin fabric of my workout pants, I sucked in a breath that I forgot how to let go of. He applied pressure, softly rolling his fingers over the muscles. I winced, and then groaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure when he hit a spot that sent an electric current through my entire leg and up to my hip.
His eyes snapped to mine when I groaned, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved the ball to replace his hand and began rolling it up and down my quad. I tried not to make any noise, but every time he hit that spot, I involuntarily moaned again, closing my eyes and letting the unfamiliar mixture of feelings overtake me as I gripped the edge of the mat. It hurt like hell but then again it felt amazing. I was so confused.
“It’s a trigger point,” Rhodes finally said. “It’s like a knot that forms in your muscle. Rolling it out will release it and allow you to move properly again without the pain you’re feeling now.”
I nodded, but words were lost for me at the moment. He moved to the opposite leg and the process started all over again. It started off incredibly painful, but at the same time I enjoyed it, and when I stopped moaning, he would move to a different area of my body. He worked meticulously, and I peeked an eye open to glance at him from time to time, watching as his eyes skated over my body while he worked.
When he moved to my abdomen, I cringed, my hands flying down to cover my fat. It was then that I realized how vulnerable I was in that position.
Rhodes paused, the ball just above my navel. “It’s fine, Natalie,” he said softly, grabbing my hands and placing them back at my sides. “You need to do abdominal work today and it’s not going to be effective if you’re hurting this badly.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, but timidly laid my head back down and stared up at the moss flowing in the breeze. It moved fluidly, casting the sun’s light in a wave over Rhodes’ face as he tenderly rolled the ball around my upper abs. When his thumb grazed the bottom of my sports bra, I had to suck both of my lips between my teeth and bite down to keep from moaning for a completely different reason. What was wrong with me? Rhodes eyed me cautiously, but didn’t acknowledge it.
“You went to Poxton High,” he said after a moment. I waited for him to say something e
lse, but he left it at that.
“Yeah, I was a freshman when you were a senior.” I groaned a little louder as he moved to my upper chest. I was incredibly sore there from the push-ups and burpees we’d been doing.
“Poxton High,” he mused. “That title have anything to do with your last name, by chance?”
I laughed a little. “My step-dad. He kind of owns, well, almost everything in this town. Including the high school.”
He nodded, but didn’t comment. “And you were a freshman when I was a senior?”
This time I nodded, but he had moved the ball to my biceps and I was focusing on not making noises that would cause my cheeks to heat.
“Roll over,” he demanded. As I did, I noticed his brows knitted together in concentration, even when he wasn’t rolling the ball. I wasn’t sure why he was suddenly talking to me. Maybe because of the fit I threw the day before. Whatever the cause, I wasn’t going to question it. I was thankful to not work in silence. And as strange as it sounds, getting that ball rolled over my muscles felt a lot like work.
“I just don’t understand,” he said as he began rolling the ball up my calf. I moaned out loud, realizing that area was packed with trigger points, as he had called them.
“Don’t understand what?” I asked, still holding my breath as he rolled over my other calf. I leaned up on my elbows and turned my head back to meet his eyes.
He paused, holding the ball in place as he gazed back at me. “How could I never have noticed you before?”
I swallowed, almost more afraid of the brief tenderness I caught in his eyes in that moment than the usual hardness that existed there.
Shrugging, I answered his question just above a whisper. “I’m easy to miss.”
I held his eyes for a moment more before laying my chest back to the ground, resting my head on my arms. He started rolling the ball up my hamstrings and I closed my eyes tight. I thought I might explode from the mixture of pain and pleasure that rocked through my body. After a few moments, he spoke again.
“Maybe I just wasn’t looking.”
My eyes shot open, but I didn’t respond.
Rhodes finished rolling out my muscles and then we headed back into the gym without another word. He didn’t work me any less than the days before, but he was more patient, taking the time to explain the drills to me and making sure I took the rest I needed between sets. Still, he pushed me hard, and sweat was dripping furiously down my face and into my eyes as I drove home that evening with the windows down. The salty water was irritating my contacts, but I didn’t swipe it away. In fact, I didn’t even care. My mind was too busy running over the words I’d heard Rhodes say to give attention to anything else. They played over and over again in my head until I was sure I’d dream of them that night.
Maybe I just wasn’t looking.
No matter how many times I replayed the words, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what he meant. And I was right. I thought about it so much that when the night came, I dreamed of Rhodes for the second time.
And for what I knew wouldn’t be the last.
• • •
I told Mom and Dale about my weigh-in the next morning and they both flipped out. Mom jumped up from her barstool excitedly and wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug while Dale clapped me on the back. His hand lingered there as I told them about how my sessions had been going. Dale joked about taking us out for ice cream to celebrate and I shrugged out from under his hand and glared at him. He laughed, then, and I joined him. I was happy. It was a good start to what I hoped would be a life-changing summer.
My session with Rhodes was pushed back to six that night and by the time we finished at eight, I was starving. We’d had another great session, and I felt us falling into a comfortable rhythm. He talked to me a little more, which made me happy, and I learned not to push him when he stopped talking and focused on working, instead. Maybe we were figuring each other out, after all.
My stomach growled loud enough for him to hear as we did a cool-down walk around the golf course and he chuckled, which was sort of a foreign sound when it came to Rhodes.
“Hungry?” he asked, the sky fading from a gold to a light blue behind him. It was an intriguing contrast, such hard features against such a soft background. No one was left on the course but us, and other than the buzz of the trail lights and insects, it was silent. I welcomed the quietness.
“You have no idea,” I murmured, rubbing my stomach. “All this rabbit food is killing me.”
“Rabbit food?” Rhodes quirked a brow. “Are you hungry like this all the time?” I nodded and he shook his head. “You shouldn’t be, if you’re eating enough protein. Do you have plans tonight?”
I stopped mid-stride, staring at Rhodes like he’d just asked me to take my pants off, but he just waited for my response with a calm demeanor.
“Um, no?”
“Good. Come over to my place and I’ll cook us dinner, show you that eating rabbit food isn’t as bad as it seems if you know how to do it right.” He continued walking but it took me a minute before my legs would move again. Did Rhodes just ask me to come over to his house? And did he just say he was going to cook for me?
The same guy who would barely say more than two words to me before was asking me to come over to his place for dinner. He’d gone from ignoring me to asking me to hang out with him, like we were friends.
I smiled at that possibility.
“I just need to lock up the office real quick.”
I nodded and he jogged off while I pulled out my favorite strawberry lemonade lip balm, gliding the tube over my lips repeatedly as I waited for Rhodes. I was counting my breaths and trying not to overthink.
It was just my trainer making me a healthy meal. That’s all.
Rhodes led me around to the front of the club after he locked up. I traded my lip balm for my keys as he climbed onto a sleek black sports bike. The way he straddled it highlighted the defined muscles in both his arms and his legs and I couldn’t help but stare as he pulled on the matching all black helmet.
“I’m not too far from here,” he said, nodding up the street. “Just follow me and flash your lights if I’m going too fast. Cool?”
“Cool,” I replied, but it barely croaked out. I smiled to try to cover the weakness in my voice. For a moment, I thought Rhodes crooked the tiniest smile, but he pulled the helmet the rest of the way down and I couldn’t be sure.
I threw my bag in my trunk and slipped in behind the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white from the ferocious grip I had on it. I was going to Rhodes’ house. His house. I tried to breathe steadily, but I was pretty sure I sounded more like a horse than anything.
Deep breaths, Natalie. Deep breaths.
Yeah. Easier said than done.
Chapter Five
WE PULLED INTO A small apartment complex less than ten minutes later. His place was in the exact opposite direction of my house from the club and even though I was only a half hour from home, it seemed like I was in a different country.
When I stepped out of the Rover, I locked the doors and stared up at the chipping blue paint on the wood-paneled building. The upper apartments had small balconies that I could see some residents sitting on. They were staring at me like I didn’t belong, their eyes hard and cold. I crossed my arms over my chest and walked to Rhodes just as he hopped off his bike. Surprisingly, he started pushing it up on the sidewalk toward the building.
“Don’t you need to park that?”
“I am,” he responded simply. I didn’t understand until he unlocked the bottom floor apartment door on the back right side of the building, pushed the bike inside, and leaned it up on the kickstand just inside the small foyer at the entrance. He was parking it — just not outside.
It was dark inside the apartment and when Rhodes flicked on the light, I blinked my eyes until they adjusted. It was small, that was for sure, but I was surprised by how it looked on the inside. It was clean, nice. Simple — but nice. We were sta
nding in the small foyer with basic, white-tiled floor. It led right into a living room with beige Berber carpet and one dark brown leather couch facing a flat screen mounted on the far wall. There was an entertainment center filled with cookbooks and movies and a simple coffee table — wood with a glass center. There were no photos, no paintings, no quote embellishments — just a clean white wall, furniture, and the TV.
I followed Rhodes further into the space as he stashed his helmet in the hall closet and caught a view of the kitchen. It was pretty large, considering the size of the apartment as a whole, and it looked like Rhodes had renovated it from the original setting. The countertops looked like new granite and he had installed a hanging rack above the stove to hang pots, pans, and utensils. The sink had a fancy faucet that looked like something Christina would want installed in our kitchen. All the appliances were a dark gray and seemed brand new and there was one cabinet above the fridge that had the cabinet doors removed. The shelves housed at least a dozen more cookbooks. And one lone apron hung on a small hook just beside the pantry.
Rhodes ran a hand through his still-damp hair as he watched me look around. “You want something to drink?”
My eyes found his but dropped a little to note the way his shirt was still sticking to his abdomen. “Just water is fine.”
He nodded, stepping into the kitchen long enough to grab a glass and fill it with ice and water from the fridge. Setting it down on the counter in front of me, he lifted a thumb and pointed to the room down the hall behind him. “I just need to shower real quick. You can too, if you want.”
I swallowed hard, my eyes practically bulging from my head. And for the first time — Rhodes laughed.
Well, he chuckled.
“I meant when I’m done, Natalie.”
“I know,” I said quickly. I totally didn’t know. “I will. When you’re done. I have extra clothes.” Why did I say that?
The Pain in Loving You Page 6