Sweat (Sweetbriar Lake #1)

by Rebecca Jenshak

  Unfortunately, it turned out the instructor was none other than the leggy blonde she’d seen going into his office after their first meeting. She chastised herself for not guessing he would promote a class taught by his girlfriend.

  She followed Claire to the back of the classroom, and they took their position in front of the ballet bar. Elle had no idea what to expect, but as the instructor began the class directing them to plié and pulse, Elle followed along with the help of Claire. They giggled like teenagers as Elle groaned and struggled through some — okay most — of the exercises.

  The beautiful and fit instructor, Tori, was hard not to like. Her enthusiasm was infectious and the class took on an energy that made Elle forget she was an out-of-shape, lonely, single girl. With the music turned up and the women sweating and laughing together, Elle felt like she was part of something.

  By the end of the session, Elle’s muscles were trembling, and her side ached from laughing. Claire and Elle exited the class all smiles, on an endorphin and friendship high.

  Claire led the way down the stairs while Elle hobbled behind her. “So, how are you feeling after this morning?”

  Elle grimaced through the soreness already beginning in her butt and legs. “Tired and weak. I need a hot shower and several glasses of wine.”

  “My kind of girl,” Claire said as she skipped more easily down the stairs. “Hey, if you’re not busy, I’m having a housewarming party on Saturday. I just moved into a new apartment. No big deal if you’re busy. I know you barely know me, but I can tell my people when I see them.”

  Happy laughter slipped out, and Elle broke into a smile. Funny, she had thought the exact same thing about the roomful of girls in the class. “Sure that sounds fun,” she said more eagerly than she’d intended. She cleared her throat and counted to three in her head before she continued. “I’ll check my calendar, but I don’t think I have anything going on.” She knew her whole weekend was wide open, but she felt a little desperate at being too eager for an invitation from someone she barely knew.

  Claire smiled and pulled her cell phone from her locker. “Great! Give me your number, and I’ll text you the address.”

  They exchanged numbers and said good-bye, leaving Elle to drive home downright giddy at the prospect of her first night out since she had moved to Sweetbriar.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  RYAN REACHED OVER and increased the incline on the treadmill to 5.0. He smiled at the groan Elle directed in his direction as she rested her feet on the sides of the machine. God, he loved watching her work out. She was a determined little thing. She always groaned or complained about his torture, but she gave it everything she had. She was his best client, not to mention, his best-looking one. It was an exercise of self-control every time he saw her just to keep his hands off. He survived by thinking of all the bad outcomes that could come from dating someone he trained. She’d think he was a slimy instructor who hit on all his female clientele; she’d be uncomfortable and stop coming to their sessions; the town would gossip about how he was using his business to pick up women.

  His life was becoming a damn cliché. What a fool he’d become. It was as if he was sixteen and reciting football stats in his head to keep from coming faster than he wanted to. Hmm… football stats. Maybe that would distract him from the way Elle’s ass looked in her yoga pants.

  “Jerry Rice, 208 touchdowns, 1,248 points scored.”

  Elle shot him a puzzled look as she sprinted. Her red hair was up in a ponytail, swinging back and forth with every step she took. Shit, he’d said that out loud. Nope, football stats were no good either. He was fucked.

  Saturday morning, Elle woke up early, filled with anticipation for the night ahead. She’d cleaned and organized every drawer of every room in the condo. Next, she’d moved to the closet, where, much to her dismay, she found nothing acceptable to wear to Claire’s party.

  After an impromptu shopping trip, she’d returned with several bags filled with new clothes and the same problem. She had no idea what to wear.

  She texted Claire to confirm the time for the party, wishing they were close-enough friends that she could ask what in the world she should wear. The text came back almost immediately.

  Claire: The party starts at 8, but how about we go out for a drink before? There’s a bar close to my apartment named Cliff’s. Meet me at my place and we’ll walk over. How’s 6:30?

  She breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t be walking into a party by herself.

  Elle: Great! See you at 6:30.

  She’d have to hurry to get ready in time, but she wanted to talk to Brock first. She needed some encouragement or just a familiar voice to calm her and remind her this was no big deal.

  “Hey! I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said after answering on the first ring. “It’s not a good time right now. I’m watching the game with the guys. Can I call you later?”

  The background noise was loud, and that and his quick dismissal stung.

  “I really need to talk to you. Can’t you go outside for a minute?” She was annoyed and suddenly she needed to ask him the questions she’d been putting off for far too long. She couldn’t go another moment without finding out where they stood.

  Brock’s voice could just be heard over the chatter around him. “Uh, yeah, give me just a minute.”

  By the time he was back and in a much quieter spot, Elle was hot with anger and humiliation for letting their relationship get to this point.

  “What’s up, babe?” His voice had a forced easiness to it.

  Babe? Seriously, he had the gall to call her babe?

  She closed her eyes and summoned all her courage. “Brock, I want to know what’s going on with us. Are we dating? Are we dating other people? This is so confusing.”

  There was a long pause before Brock responded. “We’re friends. Obviously, I want to be more eventually, but right now we are just getting started in our careers. I thought we both agreed to take some time for ourselves.”

  “We did. It’s just I thought we’d spend more time keeping in touch, talking on the phone, visiting each other. I haven’t seen you in six months,” Elle whined, hating that it had come to this but thankful to get it off her chest. She needed to let it all out before she lost her courage.

  “Work is busy. I’m putting in sixty hours a week, I’m reconnecting with old friends, and just trying to build a life here in Kansas City. I thought you understood that,” he said with more hurt in his voice than she could have anticipated.

  She could almost see him, running his hand through his hair with an exasperated look on his face.

  Elle picked through her new clothes, trying to decide between a flashy red dress or a more conservative black one.

  “I do. I guess I’m just a little jealous. Sweetbriar feels so temporary.”

  “You need to get out there. Make some friends. Enjoy your time there even if it’s only for a little while longer,” he said.

  Elle nodded. She knew he was right, as much as she hated to admit it.

  “So, are we good?”

  Elle sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I’ll call you next week. Maybe another Skype session? It’s been far too long,” he said in a flirty voice. “Bye, Elle.”

  She hung up the phone feeling a little numb. She shook herself and stood up, turning on the radio and cranking the volume. She would deal with her feelings on the Brock situation later. Tonight, she would have fun, she vowed, grabbing the red dress from the stack of clothes on her bed. No thinking about Brock or the job situation.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CLIFF’S TURNED OUT to be a busy sports bar decorated with local sports memorabilia and filled with men — and a few brave women — who were engrossed in the large TVs hung around the place.

  “Big game.” Claire pointed to a TV behind the bar. “Mizzou vs. Kansas.”

  She nodded as if this cleared everything up but looked around the place, feeling like the only one not in on the secret
.

  Claire handed her a margarita and picked up hers, winking at the bartender. “Put it on my tab.”

  The man behind the bar smiled at Claire but spoke in a disapproving tone. “You mean the tab you haven’t paid in a year?”

  Claire walked away, speaking over her shoulder. “Has it been that long?” She smiled at Elle and motioned with her head toward the back.

  She led them through the tables and other patrons sitting and standing around them. People nodded and smiled in their direction, many of them calling out to Claire.

  When they were seated in the back where it was quiet enough to be heard over the screams and cheers up front, Elle spoke. “Do you come here a lot or something?”

  Claire considered her question before smiling. “You’re obviously not from a small town.”

  She shook her head. “Phoenix.”

  “Ah, well, that explains it. How long have you been in Sweetbriar?”

  “About six months, but I haven’t gotten out much until now.” She took a large drink of the margarita, coughing as the drink burned her throat. It was more tequila than mixer. “So, you really do know every person in this bar?” Elle motioned around the room, looking more closely at the people and their friendly, laid-back demeanors. “And the bartender lets you get away with not paying for months on end?” In Phoenix, not paying a bar tab would get the cops called and the offender put on the do-not-serve list that every bar kept hidden behind the bar — every bar except this one apparently.

  Claire shrugged. “That’s Sweetbriar for you.”

  Elle was fascinated with the place, the easygoing attitude of the people in it, and with Claire. She learned that her new friend was also twenty-seven and was a lifestyle blogger. She wrote about local events and anything she deemed fabulous and fun. She had heard that people did this, had even subscribed to a few but had never met a real, live blogger in person.

  After finishing their second round, Elle excused herself to use the restroom. She felt the soreness of Ryan’s last workout as her stiff muscles ached with every step. The alcohol was kicking in, and the reminder of Ryan made her lightheaded and dizzy.

  Elle shut the bathroom door and grabbed her phone from her purse. She hovered over the toilet, not daring to sit on it, while scrolling through her messages. She rolled her eyes at a text from Brock asking if he could crash at her place the weekend of the ball. She needed to remember to ask Claire for some help finding the perfect dress to stun him at the event. Despite understanding his reasoning, his text rankled her. So many mixed signals! Elle continued to scroll and came across the email from Ryan.

  She wondered what gym gods did on Saturday nights? Probably out with Tori. Or maybe he had a whole posse of tall, thin, blondes with perfect bodies. Elle giggled. She had just enough alcohol and newfound confidence to send him a quick text.

  Elle: I’m so sore I’m having a hard time walking in heels!

  She hit send before she could talk herself out of it. There. Now he knew she didn’t sit home on Saturday nights. She headed back out to the bar but had only made it a few steps before she felt her phone vibrate in her clutch. She reached for it while she sauntered to the table.

  She stopped in surprise as she read the response.

  Ryan: Ha! Good ☺

  She felt a jolt of surprise and excitement that he had responded. Especially so fast. Maybe the gym god was taking a night off from his posse of blondes.

  Claire stood as Elle reached the table. “Hey girl, ready to set up for the party?”

  Elle put her phone away and grabbed her drink from the table and finished the last sip. “Definitely!” she said when the glass was empty and turned on her heel to follow Claire.

  Claire’s apartment was an adorable two-bedroom right in the heart of downtown Sweetbriar, not far from Elle’s office. The traditional and warm style of the neighborhood and building matched Claire perfectly.

  Elle floated around the apartment, admiring photos and artwork that lined the walls and surfaces of every shelf and table. She was grinning back at a younger Claire standing in front of the Chiefs’ stadium when recognition slammed into her. There was Ryan and the apparently always-gorgeous Tori. Each one was decked out in full red and grinning, ear to ear. Tori posed in the middle with Claire and Ryan pressed closely, cheesing at the camera. Claire hadn’t even mentioned they were friends — let alone the type of friends who had known each other for years and went as a group to football games.

  Claire looked up from the kitchen and caught Elle in front of the picture. “We all went to high school together. Tori and I were inseparable back then, and we tagged around with Ryan and his gang every chance we got. Speaking of, they should be here tonight. Tori said they’d come by after dinner with the family,” Claire said as she placed trays of food in the dining and living rooms.

  Elle forced herself to keep a straight face and continued her exploration of the apartment, making her way to the bathroom where she could excuse herself under the pretenses of checking her makeup. She needed a minute alone to prepare for what was sure to be an awkward evening with Ryan and Tori crashing her first fun night out in months.

  Elle shut the door and put the toilet lid down so she could sit. She was mortified that she had texted Ryan earlier — and while he was out to dinner with his girlfriend! She wanted to vanish into the floor.

  Well, at least she had sprung for new clothes. Maybe Claire had some hot, single guy friends who would show up. At this point, a friendly face — male or female — she could carry a conversation with for the night would be a welcome distraction.

  Elle stood and straightened her dress. The bright, fun, red color seemed to be mocking her now. There was no way to blend into her surrounding in a dress like this. She had liked the idea of standing out at the beginning of the night, but not with Ryan and Tori hand in hand across the room. She fidgeted with the plunging neckline, cursing her small breasts.

  She could hear friendly voices outside the door, indicating that guests were arriving. Maybe Ryan and Tori wouldn’t make it. Fingers crossed.

  She looked into the heavily lined blue eyes staring back at her in the mirror. “Ready or not, here I go.”

  Most of the night went by in a blur. Claire introduced Elle to her friends, and she even recognized a few from Fit Club.

  Elle chatted with a guy named Chris, who she recognized from the gym. He was usually in the boxing ring looking fierce and dangerous, but she found him to be fun and friendly in person. He was far too big and lethal-looking for Elle’s tastes, but the conversation flowed naturally, and she was thankful to have someone to talk to while Claire took care of her hosting duties.

  She had nearly forgotten about Ryan and Tori when she heard Ryan’s deep timbre exchanging hellos. With her back to the door, turned in to the conversation with Chris, she took a few deep breaths to compose her speeding heart rate.

  She felt Ryan enter the kitchen before he spoke. His proximity made her body tingle, and she took a large drink of wine, hoping to find some liquid courage. She had every intention of standing her ground and ignoring the man behind her, but before she knew it, Chris was extending a hand to Ryan, and the two men were greeting each other like the best of friends. She had no other option but to turn and face him.

  Dark jeans wrapped around his muscular thighs, looking anything but casual. The sleeves on his black, button-down shirt were rolled up, showing his large and veiny forearms. He flashed her a killer smile as he took her in slowly. He had a way of looking her over in a casual way that made her body hum with anticipation.

  She managed a small smile and meek “Hello” before picking up the nearest wine bottle and pouring another glass of wine. She definitely needed more wine.

  Claire bounded over from the living room. “You made it!” she squealed, hugging him tightly.

  “Happy housewarming,” Ryan said as he handed Claire a large box that had been elegantly wrapped in cream paper with a giant red bow.

  Claire thanke
d him, but he waved off the gesture as if it was no big deal.

  Then he directed his attention back to Chris, and they fell into easy conversation. Elle watched them out of the corner of her eye. It was apparent the two were close by their mannerisms. She was learning that Ryan didn’t let his serious, professional persona down around too many people, but Chris seemed to be one of them.

  Claire hurried over to Elle with a big smile on her face. She nodded in Ryan’s direction. “Isn’t he the best?”

  She nodded in acknowledgment as her friend tore into the package as if it was Christmas morning, revealing a pair of crystal champagne flutes and a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne. Elle was taken aback by the thoughtfulness and expense of the gift. It was the perfect present for the occasion, especially for Claire. Elle had given her a gift card to Pier One and a small toolkit. She had been pleased with her practical selection but now chided herself for always being so sensible.

  Claire flitted off to open the champagne and share with her guests, leaving Elle alone just as Chris excused himself from Ryan. She found herself cornered with Ryan and desperately hoping for any excuse to leave the small kitchen.

  He caught her eye and gave her another once-over, sending chills up her spine.

  “Wow, can I have the name of your trainer, because you look great?” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

  Elle looked down and blushed, feeling her cheeks turn warm at the compliment, but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Thanks,” she said, leaning against the counter for balance.

  His face softened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. You look incredible, though, and you should know it. You always do, but you seem to be glowing tonight.” He furrowed his brow, reached into the fridge, and withdrew a Heineken.

  “So, how was dinner with the family?” Elle dared to ask, hoping to show she knew he had a girlfriend and didn’t care. “Claire mentioned you and Tori were having dinner with the family,” she added.