Code of Conduct (Cipher Security Book 1)

by Smartypants Romance

  I look at Abel like he’s lost his damn mind.

  Sucking in breath, I propose a compromise. “I was thinking of starting more with a stroll.”

  “A stroll?” Clearly amused, Abel doesn’t bother stopping the machine until we have a solid plan. Nope. He keeps pressing buttons that do God-knows-what and smiles. He. Smiles. A smile I no longer consider attractive, but smarmy and conniving. His poor, poor wife.

  “Fine. I’ll settle for a meander.” Pointing my finger at him for dramatic effect, I add, “But that’s my final offer.”

  He shakes his head and finally stops pressing buttons. Finally. And yet… I’m still moving. This isn’t good.

  “Nope. Thirty minutes of intervals and then I’ll come back here to work on some stretches with you.”

  My eyes widen, both in disbelief and possible terror at what “stretching” might entail. I ate a bean burrito for lunch. Does he not understand the kind of danger “stretching” might put everyone in?

  “I don’t think I like this plan. And I’m not paying for this training session, Abel, since it’s unauthorized.” I try to cross my arms like an obstinate child but end up grabbing the handrails when I lose my balance. Clearly, I can’t walk and be defiant at the same time. “Come to think of it, when you walk away, I’ll just leave.”

  “No, you won’t. You don’t know how to turn off the machine.”

  “Dammit,” I grumble and turn my head away dramatically. He’s right. I am totally and completely at his mercy until he comes back to get me, or the power goes out. I’m all for a man taking control and getting me sweaty, but this is not how I imagined it would go. “Fine. I give up. I will do these intervals for thirty minutes. But if the video of me falling and my shirt being ripped off goes viral, I’m telling the ladies of The View and all their watchers that you are my trainer. I will ruin you!”

  He chuckles again and it makes me want to take his wife to a support group for wives of hot, chuckling, unable to be manipulated husbands. The poor woman.

  “Are you always this dramatic?”

  “Always,” I say without hesitation.

  “Good. I like it. See you in thirty.”

  “It’s twenty-eight minutes now!” I call after him as he walks away. “Don’t you be a second late!”

  He waves at me over his shoulder, never looking back.

  I will never admit it to Abel, but the stretches weren’t as bad as I thought they would be. There was one time I had to clench a little, but for the most part, my muscles feel really relaxed now.

  Plus, I enjoyed the conversation with Abel. He gets my humor and throws it right back at me. He even convinced me to try out his strength training class.

  Yeah, he’s got jokes of his own all right, manipulating me like that.

  Besides figuring out how to get the electronics to work, the biggest obstacle was showering. Whoever designed these box shower stalls in this place didn’t take into account that people come to the gym to get skinny—they don’t start out that way. So, there I was, my “morbidly obese” self, trying to figure out how to shave my legs without my rear sticking out of the curtain into the hall while getting sprayed in the face with the water.

  Pretty sure I had to break down and position myself in one of Abel’s stretches for it to work. And I’m still not sure I didn’t moon a passerby.

  But no matter. Once I finally contorted myself around and got my clothes on, I was pretty proud for acting like a real gym rat. Of course, this was after dropping my pants inside a puddle in the stall. Thank goodness they provide blow dryers. Otherwise it would have looked like I had an accident before I even left the building.

  All that extra effort to clean up made me thirsty, so I’ve decided to reward myself with a drink.

  Sidling up to the smoothie bar, I decide to try my hand at an organic, GMO-free treat. Because nothing says heart health like drinking plants. Or so I’ve heard. Besides, I don’t see vodka on the menu. Bummer.

  Wiping her hands on a towel, the clearly frazzled and overworked bartender, or should I call her a smoothie-tender approaches.

  “What can I get you?”

  I purse my lips and give her a deer-in-the-headlights look. “Uhhhh, I have no idea.”

  She leans against the counter. Suddenly, she doesn’t look overwhelmed. She looks… interested. “Ah. Newbie, huh?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Considering I know just about everyone who walks through those doors,” she gestures to the front of the room, “and I’ve never seen you before, it’s an educated guess.” She pops back up off the counter like she didn’t just get comfortable. “I’m Tabitha, by the way. And here is a list of some of our best sellers. Most of these are creations I came up with on my own.”

  Taking the list from her hands, I peruse the different items. I’m shocked to admit, some of them look pretty good. My mouth starts watering at the thought of having a Dreamcicle smoothie. Then, I see one that catches my eye.

  “Ooooooh. What is this chocolate bar shake?” I’m sure my face has lit up from the prospect of gooey caramel and rich milk chocolate in my mouth. I might like this gym after all.

  “That is one of our best sellers. Made with chocolate protein, almond butter, a little almond milk, banana—”

  Very quickly, Tabitha recognizes the glaze of disappointment that is replacing the stars in my eyes, especially when she gets to something called vanilla greens, which makes no sense whatsoever. “I lost you, didn’t I?”

  I nod blankly.

  “Well, then, you’ll just have to trust me. It’s good.”

  “Can you add a Snickers bar to it?”

  She laughs, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s a former smoker. Something about the rumble in her chest reminds me of my late grandma who smoked two packs a day for twenty years.

  I remember when Nanny quit. We avoided her house for weeks until she finally didn’t want to throw her flip-flops at everyone for eyeing her wrong. Nanny never did pick up a cigarette again. But she never lost that smoker’s voice either. Just like Tabitha.

  I shrug at her and then give her the go-ahead because, what the hell? I’ve already tried walking on the death trap and played contortionist in the shower. Why not add drinking pureed rabbit food to the list?

  Tabitha raps her knuckles on the counter once and turns away from me to a different counter cluttered with blenders, containers of fruit, and jars of strange concoctions that are no doubt intended to increase my digestive health. The way she mixed things at such a rapid pace, like it comes second nature and she doesn’t really need to think about it, is impressive. Almost like watching Tom Cruise flip bottles around in Cocktail. Except without the flying alcohol. Or the happy side effects to making me forget my near-death experience earlier.

  Of course, I catch Abel’s eye at the same moment I’m remembering how glorious I looked covered in sweat. He smiles at me and gives me a thumbs-up. I really, really need to send his wife my condolences for marrying that guy.

  He’s going to be so fun to verbally spar with when I’m here. Especially if I don’t have to physically spar with him. I shudder at the thought of dancing around with boxing gloves on.

  Mere seconds later, Tabitha hands me a clear plastic cup filled with brown liquid and a straw.

  I flick my gaze up to my new friend, and she raises her eyebrows. “Go ahead. Let’s see what you think.”

  Slowly, I reach for the straw and pull the paper off. Inserting it in my drink, never taking my eyes off hers, I bring it to my lips and take a quick pull. I make note of the flavors as they cross my tongue:

  Chocolate

  There’s that almond butter she mentioned. Not bad.

  Ew. EW! That must be the greens she mentioned.

  Wait… there’s more chocolate.

  Oh, some banana! That’s a nice surprise.

  “Well?” she finally asks, like my opinion is that important to her.

  I nod a few times in appreciation as I take an
other drink. “Not bad. Surprisingly, it’s pretty good.”

  She raises her fists in victory, which seems a little over the top for a successful smoothie, but who am I to judge? I was just mentally patting myself on the back for showering without flashing the entire locker room.

  “I have yet to have someone tell me they hate it. And I have a wager going with the boss man. If fifty out of fifty customers tell me they like it, I win a hundred bucks.”

  “How does he know you’re telling the truth?” I ask around my straw. I might get another one of these things if I finish this one too quickly.

  She shrugs. “He doesn’t. We use the honor system.”

  Tabitha turns to help another customer and her answer rolls around in my head. But how does the boss know she’s honorable? What if she’s lying through her teeth? Will she still take the money? And how long does it take to convince fifty customers to try a chocolate smoothie?

  Still contemplating the logistics of the bet, I glance up and my whole body freezes when I come face-to-face with the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “Hey, Carlos,” Tabitha says nonchalantly to the god in front of me.

  Carlos. I think to myself. Carrrrrrrlos. Hmm. Even in my head, I can’t roll my r’s.

  Seriously, though. That is one good looking man. I’m almost positive a ray of light from heaven is shining on Carlos’s head and the heavenly hosts are singing.

  Probably no older than forty, his chiseled jaw could have been carved out of marble. The taut muscles of his upper body move and flex as he orders his drink. Crystal blue eyes twinkle when the most gorgeous smile crosses his face. And then… and then he runs his long fingers through thick dark hair.

  His eyes flick over to mine and I lick my lips in anticipation of what’s to come. The feeling is short lived because it turns out, he wasn’t looking at me but through me, obviously not even registering that he was just staring my direction as he turns away.

  Yeah, those heavenly hosts come to a screeching stop in my head. I roll my eyes at myself for even thinking a guy like him would ever look at a girl like me. I’ve got almost four decades under my belt, so I know how this works. Pretty guys stick with pretty girls. It’s always been that way and it always will be that way.

  And as if I couldn’t be even more ready to ditch this joint and cut my losses, suddenly Abel sidles up next to me, lacing his fingers together and resting them on the counter.

  “I see you’re having a healthy dinner. Your doctor would be proud.”

  Licking my lips of the chocolate mustache I’m sure I’m sporting, I retort, “If I was four inches taller, my doctor would leave me in my carb-induced peace.”

  “Doubtful. Skinny-fat is a real thing. You’d be surprised.”

  I raise a single eyebrow at him, mostly because I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to win this round. I’m already dehydrated from all the sweating he made me do. It’s making me grouchy.

  Taking in my reaction, he chuckles softly. “Okay, okay. I’ll lay off. But I really do think you’d like the strength training class I teach tomorrow night. I have a group of really fun ladies in there you’d get along with. We work hard, but we have a good time doing it. And just so you know, this isn’t just about getting a sale. The first class is complimentary, simply so you can check it out and meet some people.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I make a show of taking the last long slurp of my smoothie before answering him. “And if I don’t like it, you won’t pressure me to try again?”

  He hangs his head in defeat, or maybe it’s to regroup. I need to keep my guard up with this guy. If I’m not careful, he’ll have me back down to a size eight, and who wants to exercise that hard?

  “I can’t say I won’t pressure you at all. But if you don’t like it, we’ll stick to the treadmill for a while. Deal?”

  He puts out his hand to shake mine. I hesitate for just a moment but realize I don’t have much to lose. Except maybe my pride. And my ability to walk up and down stairs after leg day. But this chocolate bar smoothie might be worth it.

  Finally, I reciprocate and give him a firm handshake, so he knows I’m no pansy. “Deal.”

  “Great.” Patting out a short rhythm on the counter, he stands to leave. “Six o’clock sharp. Don’t be late and bring a water bottle.”

  “You really should provide one for me since you suckered me into it,” I call after him.

  He doesn’t respond, mission clearly accomplished, but Tabitha does. “Are you doing Abel’s strength training class tomorrow night?” My guard immediately goes up.

  “Yeeees?” I squeak out. “Why?”

  Tabitha throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, you poor, poor dear. I’ll have some extra ice packs on hand. I’ve only done it once, and I thought I’d lost my ability to use my arms permanently.”

  I cringe. “Oh, god. That sounds horrible. What have I done?”

  “They’re vultures around here,” she continues which does not make me feel better at all. “And once you get sucked in, you’re stuck for life.”

  I gasp and throw my hands over my mouth. “Ohmygod. I’ve stumbled into the Hotel California.”

  “Worse. Welcome to Weight Expectations, Where Great Things Happen.” Tabitha gestures toward the big sign hanging behind her. Then she leans forward on the counter and whispers conspiratorially. “Also known as workout hell.”

  ** End Sneak Peek **

  Weight Expectations is available now!