by Erica Breyer
“Holy crap, Sash, talk about ‘junk in the trunk’!” another voice joined in. “She must’ve been taking out the trash!” The first voice joined in with a giggle, and Cassie could hear the women behind her making a half-hearted effort to muffle their laughter.
‘Horrible cows,’ she thought bitterly, setting her smoothie cup on the floor to one side of her as she tried to retrieve her belongings. It was bad enough that she had to build up the courage to bring herself to the gym every day. The Lycra leggings were a challenge on their own, even though she tried valiantly to cover up with oversized t-shirts. But it was the snide comments and dismissive stares that really smashed her self-confidence.
“Oh, Lordy, I’m never going to get my chai latte if this clown doesn’t get her act together,” the first voice – ‘Sash’ – muttered. A pink Nike trainer swept past Cassie’s scarlet face, attached to a slender calf as the woman behind her stepped over her and moved up to take a place at the counter. As she went, the toe of her shoe caught the top of Cassie’s cup and kicked the contents across the floor. “Oopsie,” Sash said breezily, making no attempt to help as the drink splashed over the tiles.
“Oh, babe,” Stacy giggled, moving up to take a spot beside her friend, “it’s not like she needs it anyway.”
Cassie made a grab for her sweat towel, mopping up the mess on the floor. The coins she’d dropped were now the least of her worries. Her muffin had rolled across the floor in front of her. Cheeks flaming, tears welling and threatening to spill, she reached for the ruined pastry blindly. Her fingers met with warm skin, and she glanced up in alarm, staring at strong, tanned fingers and a tautly muscled forearm.
“Here, let me get that for you,” a rich, baritone voice murmured.
Cassie looked up. And stared straight into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.
∞∞∞
Tyson Kellerman frowned as he watched the exchange going on at the gym’s juice bar in front of him. A pair of perky blondes were laughing like hyenas over something in front of them, and the sound jangled on his nerves. A pretty brunette had dropped something on the floor, and rather than helping, the nasty bitches were tearing into her like a couple of predators. From the expression on their victim’s face, it was only a matter of time before she burst into tears. He felt his jaw clench in anger. When one of the girls stepped over the brunette and kicked her cup over, he’d just about had enough.
He moved forward and knelt in front of the woman, reaching her wayward muffin just before she curled her fingers around it. Such fine-boned hands and wrists, he thought, as he looked down. He’d always been a sucker for elegant hands.
“Here, let me get that for you,” he said, looking up into her face. He froze. Huge, dark eyes met his own. Eyes that were swimming with tears. For a moment, he felt as if he was looking into the face of a terrified deer and every protective instinct in him surged alarmingly. He broke eye contact, tempted to shake his head and break the spell. He could tell that in another moment, those tears would spill, adding to her humiliation. There was no way he was going to let that happen in front of everyone here.
“You don’t need to clean that up,” he said to her, taking the sodden towel from her unresisting grasp. “I’ll get the cleanup staff to sort it out.” Rising smoothly to his feet, he picked up her gym bag and put a hand under her elbow, helping her up. He glanced over the shoulders of the pair of blondes at the counter, who were staring at him – finally speechless. “Joe, could you get the lady another smoothie, please?” he asked the guy in the small juice bar kitchen. “And a muffin, too, I think?” He looked back at the woman beside him. She was tall but still had to tilt her head to look up at him. No surprise there – everyone did. She gave a tiny nod, seeming bemused. “Yeah, a muffin…make it two. The ones with the chocolate chips.” He winked at the woman, and her expression seemed to ease a little.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice hesitant. They were the first words she’d spoken since the whole incident started. “I…I really appreciate…” she trailed off, then smiled, and Tyson’s heart melted a little. Her voice was sweet, warm, her words slightly clipped, as if holding the trace of a foreign accent. British, he imagined, though she hadn’t spoken enough for him to get a better handle on it. He could guess she wasn’t going to say much more without prompting.
“I’m Ty,” he said, “Tyson Kellerman. I run a class here.” He jerked his head in the direction of the studios that ran along the back of the gym. Her eyes widened slightly, as she glanced over to where he’d indicated. The studios dedicated to the specialized fitness classes. Spinning, boxing, yoga…martial arts. It occurred to him that she didn’t need to know that he was the consulting MMA trainer. She already looked terrified, and so many people got the wrong impression when they found out what he did for a living. He smiled again, hoping it would soften his expression. ‘Ease up, Kellerman,’ he told himself. Smiling didn’t come naturally to him, and he hoped he didn’t look like some sort of deranged killer.
Joe had emerged from around the counter with the new order, easing the tension, and he gave an inward sigh of relief as he reached for the bag with her items. The women at the counter were whispering again, but this time they had the good sense to keep it down. He doubted he’d have the self-restraint not to chew them out if they opened their mouths now. Though he suspected they knew better than to start in again.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Tyson continued when Joe had left. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go without knowing who she was. Those eyes…those eyes just floored him.
“I’m Cassie,” she said simply, clutching the bag of food to her chest. Her tote bag hung awkwardly over her shoulder, and he resisted the urge to take it from her. For a minute, he considered offering to walk her to her car, but that seemed like a step too far.
“Cassie,” he repeated and tried another smile. He fumbled around mentally, trying to find a reason to stretch the conversation out. The bustle in the dining area had died down, and attention had shifted from them now. However, he was aware of the sidelong glances the two blondes were still shooting their way. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a business card. One of his own, private cards. “Cassie, I offer one-on-one training if you’re ever interested. Here’s my number. You’re welcome to give me a call.” The words came out before he could think about them.
‘Jesus, what are you doing?’ his inner voice demanded. He never took on one-on-ones. Never trained anyone outside of this gym unless they were about to be the next big thing on the MMA circuit. Then they’d get the nod for his own private club. His string of fighters were some of the most respected in the ring. His waiting list of potential clients was a mile-long – and some of them would never make the cut. He just didn’t waste his time on anyone he didn’t think would get to the top. Yet here he was offering his card to a complete stranger in a juice bar. She took it hesitantly, and their fingers brushed. Those incredible eyes widened again, and he noticed they were framed by lashes as long and thick as a doe’s.
‘Tread lightly, you dick,’ he warned himself. ‘This one’s fragile.’
∞∞∞
Cassie stared up at the man in front of her, fumbling for words. Man? Holy heck, this was no man. ‘Greek god’ might seem more appropriate. ‘Adonis’ and ‘Sex on Legs’ also came to mind. She reached for the card he was extending to her and almost jerked when their fingers touched. For a second, she expected to hear the crackle of electricity.
“I…I… Thank you,” she said, then went silent again. ‘Oh, my word, he must think I’m simple,’ she thought to herself. Was it even humanly possible to be so sculpted? His black tank top clung to a chest that must have been carved out of stone. His shoulders… ‘Oh, Lord, his shoulders…’ Cassie had always had a thing for shoulders. Broad, rounded, well-muscled. He ticked all the boxes. Every. Single. One.
A dark tangle of ink wrapped around one thick bicep, but Cassie didn’t dare try to get a better
look. She was pretty sure she’d never be able to tear her eyes away. Men like this didn’t appreciate being ogled by women like her. Of course he’d stepped in to help…fat girls always needed personal trainers. Just another opportunity to do a bit of self-promotion. She clamped down a small swirl of annoyance.
“So, then…you’re good?” he was saying to her. She nodded mutely, the bag still against her chest; she was afraid if she moved, it would swing free, and she’d drop everything again. She was pretty certain if that happened, she would absolutely die on the spot. “Then…” he seemed to be looking for words, “then, I guess I’ll see you around?” Was it a question? She nodded, uncertain of how else to respond.
“Sure,” Cassie murmured. He was reaching for his own bag on the floor beside them. Something black, with bright orange logos emblazoned across it. She didn’t bother catching the detail because she was too busy trying to ignore the way the muscles and tendons of his thighs tautened and bunched. Of course, he was going to bend at the knee to lift up a weight. ‘That’s what all the articles tell you,’ she grumbled inwardly, using the thought as an excuse to stop herself from drooling. ‘Just get out of here,’ she told herself.
“Thanks again,” she mumbled, turning to leave. “I…I…thanks… G’bye.” Cassie snapped her mouth shut and marched in the direction of the exit, painfully aware of his eyes on her back as she left.
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