by Cassie Cole
We watched nervously as the pack of swimmers slowly advanced out into the ocean. It was like watching a school of piranha feasting on meat—lots of splashes and chaos to the observer. They disappeared into the distance, circled a buoy, and then swam back.
Max finished the swim near the middle of the pack. I almost missed him in the crowd of racers jogging up the ramp to the transition area, but Finn spotted him and roared, “There he is!”
We jumped and screamed and made as much noise as we could while he quickly stripped his wetsuit, gathered his gear, and then left on his bike.
Spectating was difficult thanks to all the road closures, and Max said it was pointless to watch him on the bike, so we spent the next five hours relaxing at our hotel. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through at that point. One hundred and twelve miles was a long time to be on a bike, especially in the scorching heat. Especially after swimming for an hour. Every few minutes I glanced at the online tracker, which showed his position on the map, to make sure he was still doing well. At noon we grabbed lunch and returned to the transition area, and then he came gliding in on the bike.
“Max!” I screamed. “Maaaaaax!”
He grinned and flashed us a thumbs-up. That was a good sign. He was feeling good.
We found a bar along the run course and started drinking while watching the athletes. It was fun cheering them on, giving them the moral support they needed while doing one of the toughest races in the world. Finn started having fun with it, taking his shirt off and flexing for the runners as they ran by. “The finish line is that way,” he would say, while flexing both arms and pointing in one direction. Brody and I roared with laughter while watching.
Finn was at mile twenty-five when I heard someone behind me roar, “There’s my baby brother!”
I turned to find three of the largest men I had ever seen in my life approach. Two of them were our age, but the third was at least twenty years older. All of them wore grey tank-tops that were stretched tight across their huge chests. Arms like tree trunks swayed at their sides. And there was something familiar about their faces…
Finn’s jaw hit the floor. “Dad?”
One of the younger ones lifted Finn up in a hug like he weighed nothing. “Why is your shirt off? Showing them your lack of pectoral definition?”
“Maybe working on his tan,” the other brother said. “Should be spending more time in the gym, if you ask me.”
Finn laughed and grinned. “What are you guys doing here?”
The older one—Finn’s dad—hugged him next. He spoke with a thick Bulgarian accent. “We are here for lifting competition. Is tomorrow. Wanted to surprise you as well!”
“We’ve been looking for you among the spectators for the last two hours,” one of the brothers said. “Then someone mentioned a scrawny guy with his shirt off, and we knew it had to be you.”
Everyone laughed, even Finn. I thought back to all the times Finn mentioned he was small compared to his brothers. It seemed ridiculous at the time, but now I could see that it was true! His brothers towered over him!
Finn suddenly remembered me. He jumped to my side and put a hand on my back. “Kat, these are my brothers, Atanas and Dragan, and my father, Hristo Hadjiev. Everyone? This is Kat. The woman I’ve been telling you about.”
He beamed with pride, like I was some sort of trophy he had earned in a competition. It made me feel all warm and tingly inside.
“Hi,” I said nervously.
Atanas lifted me in a big hug that made me squeal. “She’s as pretty as you said!”
“We assumed he was lying,” Dragan said when he hugged me.
The father, Hristo, hugged me longest of all. “Welcome to the family, Kat.”
I laughed nervously. Finn said, “Come on, dad. We’re just dating.”
Hristo tapped the side of his head and grinned. “Ahh, but I am father! I know your heart before you do! Kat is family now. End of discussion.”
“I’m honored,” I said. “Do you guys want to join us for dinner? Assuming nothing happens to Max in the last mile of the race, we’ll be celebrating.”
“We have a strict pre-competition routine,” Dragan replied. “Brown rice, sweet potatoes, and chicken breasts back at our hotel…”
“We are disciplined with our diets,” Atanas added. “Finn was always more lax. That’s why he’s so scrawny.”
“How about tomorrow night? We can come watch your competition, then celebrate that. I’ll buy the drinks.”
Finn patted me on the back. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. My brothers can drink enough beer to bankrupt you.”
“My store is doing great. But I’ll buy the first three rounds, just to be safe.”
“This is agreeable!” Hristo said happily. He hugged me one more time so tight I thought my ribs would crack. “It was pleasure meeting you, Kat. Take care of my baby son.”
I watched them wander off. “You hear that, Finn? I have to take care of his baby son.”
He blushed three shades of crimson. “They’re always teasing me.”
“Have you tried drinking milk?” Brody said with a half-smile. “Maybe you could use the calories.”
Before Finn could reply, his eyes suddenly widened. “There he is! I see Max!”
I leaned over the barrier to gaze down the street. He was unmistakable in his racing kit, jogging steadily toward us.
“Max!” I roared.
The three of us lost our minds. We were like the crazy family at the back of a high school graduation, making a lot of noise and being so obnoxious that people turned to look at us. But we didn’t care—we were here for Max.
I watched him swell with pride as he ran by us. He smiled widely at me in particular, and although he looked exhausted, he had enough energy to give me a wink.
“Maxwell Baker,” the finish line announcer boomed over the speakers. “You. Are. An. Ironman!”
We ran over and joined him in the finisher’s area. His final chip time was ten hours and five minutes, about fifteen minutes faster than his goal. He finished eighth in his age group, and tenth among the registered professionals.
I hugged him tightly when we reached him. The Ironman World Championship medal hung heavily around his neck. “Max, I’m so proud of you!”
“I know I give you a lot of shit, but that was impressive,” Finn said. “You fucking crushed it, bro.”
Brody gave him a fist-bump next. “You’re an inspiration.”
“What do you want?” I asked. “Can I get you anything? Do you want to sit down? What about food?”
“Beer!” Max croaked. “I need a beer in my hand right now.”
We escorted him over to the celebration area where vendors were selling food and beer. I got him an IPA—his favorite—from the Kona Brewing Company tent and handed it to his outstretched arms. He held the glass with both hands and drank half of it in one long gulp.
“That’s the stuff,” he said when he came up for air. He looked around. “How’s it going, guys?”
We laughed and hugged him all over again. Then we grabbed a chair for Max to sit in, while we all stood around him.
“So?” he asked me. “You getting the itch after watching this?”
I smiled nervously. “I kind of am! I already swim, and bike, and run separately. So it’s just a matter of putting it all together.”
“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” Brody warned. “But I bet you would be a kickass triathlete. Especially after how much you’ve improved this year.”
“You just want me to go out on training rides with you, so you can stare at my butt.”
“Is that a crime?” he asked.
I kissed him. “I’ll get to stare at your butt too.”
Max pointed. “Along those lines, when are you going to do a full Ironman race?”
Brody made an unhappy noise. “First I have to stay healthy enough to do an Olympic-distance triathlon. I’m still nervous about getting a stress fracture.”
> “We’ve been over this,” Finn cut in. “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t try to compete with Kat. When you go head-to-head with her, bad things happen.”
“He makes a good point,” I said.
Brody frowned. “You seem almost pleased about it. That stress fracture sidelined me for two months!”
“It caused me to become the Rocky Mountain Fitness Spring points champion,” I said. “Sorry, honey. I care more about the scoreboard than your foot.”
“Damn. She’s ruthless,” Max said with a laugh. “And I thought I was competitive.”
Brody pointed at Finn. “Oh! We met Finn’s brothers while spectating!”
“Are they as big as he’s always claiming?”
“Even bigger,” I said. I imitated his father’s Bulgarian accent. “They make Finn look like tiny baby man.”
We laughed and teased each other in the victory area while drinking our beers. Even though we had only been together five months, Finn’s dad was right: we were practically family. I had a feeling we were going to stay together for a very long time.
And based on how impossibly, amazingly, shockingly happy I was? I didn’t want it any other way.
Bonus Scene
Still craving more workout-related sexiness between Katherine and her athlete lovers? I wrote a special BONUS chapter to the story that was cut during editing. Click the link below (or type it into a browser) to visit my website and read it!
https://bit.ly/2uzKWSS
If you enjoyed Trained At The Gym you’re going to love this other Reverse Harem Romance from Cassie Cole: Christmas Package. You can click here to buy it, or keep reading for a special sneak peek!
Brianna
I dragged my three trash bags—which held everything I owned in the world—back to the subway. My MetroCard was out of funds, and I couldn’t use my credit card, so I fished around for a few dollar bills in my purse and bought a ticket.
The homeless man in the faded Giant’s cap was on my train again as I headed towards Manhattan. Like before, he stared at me from across the car. I avoided his gaze, afraid that he would ask me for change.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be judge. Technically, I was homeless too.
That’s not true, I stubbornly thought. I wasn’t like the other homeless people. I had a steady job. I had responsibilities. Right now, I was just temporarily in between dwellings.
They probably all started out the same way.
I shuddered at the thought and tried not to think about it.
I got off the train and walked to the entrance of Fulton’s. Eight floors full of clothes, furniture, and other helpful items a maybe-homeless person could use. It was still open because of the extended holiday hours.
But now what?
There were employee locker rooms on the first floor, with showers and changing rooms where I could stash my stuff. I just needed to get there, and then I could figure out the rest.
I hefted my three trash bags and walked through the front door. It opened into the main atrium area, where the line to Santa’s Workshop was still about a dozen kids long. Santa was in between kids, and waved to me as I passed by. “Got your own sack of toys, I see!” he boomed in his Santa voice.
“Sure do,” I said with a smile.
His eyes followed me with curiosity as I rounded the workshop area, and then he greeted the next little girl in line.
I continued past Santa’s Workshop. The employee locker rooms were on the other side of the building. There was an entrance directly from my department to them, but I would attract less attention by walking through the atrium.
I made it about halfway there when a voice called out from Women’s Fashion. “Brianna? I thought you left?”
I winced as Mr. Webber came jogging up to me. “No, I was going to, but I decided to come back,” I said hastily. “You said unlimited overtime was approved, right?”
He blinked with surprise, then chuckled. “See, now that’s the attitude that will get you the assistant manager position before long! What’s in the bags?”
“It’s, uh, trash,” I replied. “I know it’s the janitorial crew’s job, but it was piling up, so…”
Rather than praise my initiative, Mr. Webber scowled. “Now, Brianna, maybe you don’t know this since it’s normally not your job, but the trash has to be taken out the back. We can’t bring it through the front lobby because we serve food here, and it ruins the festive experience of Santa’s Workshop here in the atrium.”
“Shoot, you’re right, I didn’t think of that,” I said quickly. “I’ll just go back that way now…”
He did his awkward little penguin flap with his arms. “Oh, well, since you got this far you might as well keep going. But next time, go out the back, okay?”
“Um, sure,” I said.
He stood there. Watching me. So I had no choice but to backtrack the way I had come out the front door.
That was almost enough to make me discard my entire plan. But the problem was I didn’t have any other option. Not unless I wanted to crawl back to Carl and sleep in the hall outside our apartment. Although by now he’d probably told the doorman not to let me in.
I carried the trash bags around the side of the building to the service alley. There were three big dumpsters here, right next to one of the back doors to Fulton’s. If I could find a place to hide them…
A shadow moved deeper in the alley, by the ladder leading up to the roof. I yelped with surprise. The figure chuckled and then came closer into the light.
“I am sorry—I did not intend to startle you!” the man said in an English accent. He was tall and quite handsome as he held up a laminated ID badge. “I work at Fulton’s too. I was just leaving for the night.”
“Right, thanks,” I said. “I’m just, um, taking out the trash.”
“Allow me to help you,” he said, reaching for the dumpster hatch.
The thought of tossing all of my belongings into the dumpster was more than I could bear. “No!”
“Pardon?”
“I mean, no I can’t throw these away yet. I have to sort them later. For recycling.”
The man closed the dumpster hatch and nodded. “Ah, I see. Well then, I shall leave you to it.”
He walked deeper into the alley and disappeared around a corner. It was weird that he was going that way, rather than back toward the main street, but I was glad he had accepted my excuse. I found a relatively clean spot behind the dumpster, tied my bags tight, and then left them there.
It’s just for a few hours. I’ll get them when the coast is clear.
I went back inside the front door, then into the Women’s Fashion department. I clocked in, then wandered around the department looking for something to do.
I piddled around for the next hour, helping the steady stream of customers that were still searching for juicy Black Friday deals. Slowly, as we neared the ten o’clock closing time, the department thinned out.
When I had a free chance, I glanced at the opening and closing schedule on the board in the back. I groaned when I saw my name as “Opening” for every day for the next week, but it was tonight’s closer that I was looking for.
I found her folding shirts in the back corner. “Hey, Ashley! I saw that you’re closing up the store tonight?”
She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Webber put me on closing duty every day for the next three weeks. Can you believe that?”
I made a tsk tsk noise. “That sucks. Hey! I have to stay late for some other stuff. Want me to close up for you?”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. I don’t mind at all.” I flashed the key Mr. Webber had given me earlier. “I’m on opening duty too, so I already have a key.”
It didn’t take any more convincing than that.
The various departments at Fulton’s didn’t always close right on time. Store policy was to allow current customers to linger as much as they want, so they didn’t feel rushed out the door. As a result, some departme
nts closed later than others.
Tonight I had two such lingering customers in my department. Normally that would annoy me to no end, but tonight it was what I was hoping for. I attached myself to one of them, and gave her the first-class customer treatment. Helping her try on a dozen pairs of heels for a New Year’s party. Matching earrings after that from the jewelry section. Then it was time to look at purses and belts.
“We have all the time in the world,” I told her. “There’s no rush.”
It was thirty minutes past closing time when I finally rang her up. The only other employee was lingering to see if she could leave, so I waved her off and said I was closing tonight, and would take care of everything.
I went through the process of checking the register and matching the sales to the expected count. Fifteen years ago this would have been a longer process, but these days everyone used credit cards so the final register number was well within the margin of error.
Then I locked the big glass doors to our department using the key Mr. Webber had given me. All the lights were still on in Santa’s Workshop, but it was empty of both Santa and his elves. A few employees were exiting the employee locker rooms and walking through the courtyard atrium, including one guy who held a leather jacket and motorcycle helmet under one arm. His wavy hair was the color of carrots, and his arms were covered in sleeve tattoos.
I’d like to have him for a snack.
I must have been staring for too long, because he glanced at me and winked as he walked by. I finished locking the door from the inside and blushed all the way back through my department.
On the way to the back, I grabbed a shoebox from one of the displays.
The time clock was in the employee lounge, at the back of our department. Fulton’s had a casual time system, where employees clocked themselves in and clocked themselves out with a large amount of freedom. If there were any problems, at the end of the week the department managers would let us know. But usually, everyone did as they were supposed to.
Once I’d done that, I used the same door key to open the security access panel. It looked similar to a circuit breaker in a house, but with red lights to indicate which departments in the building had been locked and armed. All were red except my department, which was yellow to show that the door had been locked but the alarm had not been armed.