Weight Expectations: Cipher Office Book #1

by M. E. Carter

  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 another 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.”

  Chapter Two

  CARLOS

  “Ten,” I announce to myself through clenched teeth and continue blowing the air out through my lips. Deep breath in as I lower the thirty-five-pound weight, then begin the process of bending my arm and bringing it back up again. “Eleven.” More blowing air out. Just four more to go before I can rest for sixty seconds.

  The sweat is more than just beading on my brow at this point. Everyone has an area of their body that is weaker than the others. Mine just happens to be my arms. That also happens to be why I do arm day at least twice a week. It’s been hard work building up these guns over the last few years.

  Just as I get to fifteen, a brand-new gym rat walks by. The smoldering look she gives me in the mirror proves that all the sacrifice I’ve made to turn my body into a lean machine has been worth it.

  I didn’t always look this way. I was your average guy with an average body when I met Quinn Sullivan and started working for him. Quickly, I realized “average” was not the norm at Cipher Systems. If I wanted to keep up professionally and personally, I needed to be better than normal. I was already a head above the rest with my intellect. I just needed the body to match.

  Not gonna lie… turning heads on the regular now isn’t a hardship.

  Carefully placing my weight on the floor and picking up my water bottle, I keep my eyes on the woman as she struts over to the adjacent room and grabs the suspension bands that are hanging from the ceiling. I haven’t seen her before and I’m here almost every day. But it’s clear she’s no stranger to the gym. She’s wearing spandex shorts that cup her tight rear and a fancy sports bra over her ample breasts, her defined abs on display for everyone to see. No doubt she’s trying to intimidate the other hardcore gym rats. I’ve seen those power plays happen more than once over the years. Usually it’s over the attention of the men in the room.

  Or in particular—me.

  I make no apologies for “befriending” some of the women here. It’s only natural for attractions to occur when you’re wearing next to nothing and showing off your flexibility. More than once I’ve thanked the gods of Yoga for bringing that exercise back into fashion.

  Cocking my head, I watch as the woman places her feet in the bands and stretches herself out on the floor in a plank position, body hovering, her long blond ponytail hanging down around her cheek. Slowly, she moves her legs this way and that, stretching and contorting in ways that make sure every muscle in her body is flexed simultaneously. She glances up once, just once, to make sure I’m watching.

  This is the dance I do often at my home away from home. The quick glances. The flirty smirks. The way body language becomes an invitation for something more. The moves are always the same. Only the players change.

  This is the way I like it. There are no expectations, no deep emotions. Just surface level, short-term hookups that include mutual appreciation for the physical part of life and all that it entails. And I’m good at it.

  Some might say that’s an exaggeration or that I’m overcompensating for my insecurities. But I’m much more of a realist than that. I know I have flaws. Like having to do twice as many arm days. Sex, however, is something I just have a natural ability at. Giving women pleasure, and I always give them pleasure, is a gift I’m happy to give.

  Glancing down at my smart watch, I have thirteen more seconds to rest my arms and stretch my imagination. I watch as the woman leans forward so her shoulders are holding the brunt of her weight. Slowly, teasing me, she begins to spread her legs, wider and wider giving me a glimpse of—

  “Hey, man!”

  I try not to startle, or snarl, at my gym buddy, despite his impeccable timing.

  Shooting him a half-hearted glare, I lean down to pick up my weights. These biceps won’t grow themselves. See? Humble.

  “You love sneaking up on me, don’t you?”

  Slow breath out, lift, deep breath in.

  “I didn’t sneak up on you. Never do,” Nick argues as he peruses the weight rack, looking for the right set. There are multiple pairs in the weight he needs, but for whatever reason, he prefers the one set that has a random orange smudge on it. “You just lose awareness of your surroundings whenever a pair of short shorts and nice rack walk by.” He forcefully grabs the weights, making the entire weight rack shake. I’m sure it’s his way of trying to be ironic. It doesn’t work, but I give him credit for trying.

  “Do you blame me?” I grunt, continuing my motion. Nick may be fun to hang out with, but he’s not the best workout buddy I’ve ever had.

  One would think with his being an internist, he’d be more organized and meticulous. He’s not. At least not in this environment. Sure, he lifts hard and he’s a good spotter, but he also never shows up on time and doesn’t stay focused on his training. That’s probably why he always finds me. I have a very specific workout regimen to adhere to:

  Protein shake and various vitamins and probiotics thirty minutes before my workout.

  One hour of weight training.

  Thirty minutes of cardio.

  Thirty minutes of intense stretching.

  Shower, shit, and shave.

  Protein and vegetables thirty minutes post workout.

  Six days a week, every week, regardless of vacation, holidays, or weather.

  If Nick wants to join me for it, that’s fine with me. He keeps me company and has proven to be a decent wingman on the few times we’ve gone out. I’ve never been able to figure out why he doesn’t take the lead when it comes to the ladies, but it doesn’t hurt my feelings.

  My supposed workout partner watches the hottie in the mirror for a few seconds before responding with a low-tone whistle. “Nope. No judgement from me. Just an observation.” His head cocks to the side and I find myself focusing my gaze back on her to see what has him so interested. She’s slowly maneuvering herself into a handstand position, legs still spread. “No judgement from me at all,” he says quietly, eyes never moving off the scene behind us.

  Finishing my set, I drop the weights and grab my towel to mop my face. “Are you planning to work out today or just stare at the eye candy?”

  “Why can’t I do both?” he grunts, finally getting up to speed, although his form leaves something to be desired.

  “Exactly my point.” One more set down. One more to go. “Why are you so late today, anyway?”

  “Fifteen,” he breathes and drops the weights. No way in hell was that fifteen reps on each side, but with definition like his, it doesn’t really matter. Turns out yanking on people’s appendages all day long gives its own kind of workout. “I had a last-minute patient. Emergency tibia fracture. From the way his leg was bruised I needed to make sure his blood disorder wasn’t going to cause extra problems.”

  Just hearing about it gives me the willies. I don’t necessarily have a weak stomach, just some very vivid memories of a friend snapping his arm in half in high school. No matter how many times I’ve tried to scrub the images from my brain, they’re more than happy to torture me at times like these. “Please tell me it was a lesser injury than you thought.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He waves me off like bone sticking through skin is no big deal. I guess in his world it’s an everyday occurrence.. Yet another reason why I prefer managing the administrative side of the office at my job. Shredding my muscles with weights is about as much injury as I like. “Just a regular break. No surgery necessary and everything clotted like it was supposed to. How many more sets you got?”

  “Just one. But then I’m heading into the cycle class that starts in five. You coming with me?”

  He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Hell no. I’m not trying to fit my ass on that tiny little bike.”

  Rolling my eyes, I grab my weights for the last time today. “You’re missing out. The heavier the resistance, the better it is for your quads.
”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. You only go because that new instructor wears tops that fall forward so you can see straight down into her bra.”

  A short laugh pops out of my mouth. He’s not wrong. “It’s not a bad way to spend an hour, that’s for sure,” I say with a groan, trying to talk, count, and breathe correctly at the same time. “But really, the cardio is killer.”

  “Eh. I’ll pass. I think I’m going to concentrate on my stretching today.”

  Furrowing my brow, I watch in the mirror as he re-racks his weights. “Since when do you work on your flexibility?”

  “Since you refuse to give yourself any time off from working out, which means I have a shot to impress the new hottie before you do.” He whacks me with his towel and calls out, “Later,” as he struts away.

  Son of a bitch. I should have known he was going to swoop in when he had the chance. I watch as he approaches the woman who smiles when he greets her. Nick is nowhere near hard on the eyes, a fact she seems to appreciate. It takes just a few seconds before he’s shaking her hand and their body language changes.

  A lesser man would be annoyed after this turn of events, but I’m not a lesser man. Nick may be a doctor, but nothing says success like a focused mind and trim body. There will be other women. And they know where to find me.

  Chapter Three

  RIAN

  I glare at my single-serving Tupperware container, silently saying every prayer, chant, and children’s poem I can think of that might possibly turn this salad into a large cheese pizza with mushrooms, black olives, and hamburger meat. Surely there was some magic to Jack Sprat and his wife, right?

  Slowly pulling back the top, I peek inside. “Drat.” I chuckle to myself because I’m a poet and didn’t know it. Still, there’s no magic inside this container. It’s just romaine lettuce, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and some sort of oil and vinegar dressing I found on Pinterest that sounded decent. But my rhyming skills are on point today which has to count for something.