“Ladies, no eye-fucking in the main workout area,” I say dryly, one eyebrow lifted for good measure. “We have a reputation to maintain.”
Evie breaks eye contact with Scout and sends me a conspiratorial smirk. “Oh yeah, you’ll do just fine here. And by the way,” she says, pointing at the put-upon Nick, “he’s usually not that grumpy. He’s had a bad run with some employees he thought would work out, and I heard he’s been having substandard sex lately, so…”
I finally break, I can’t help it. His shocked face has me laughing my entire ass off. “Oh, man. I sure hope Keto Spice doesn’t fire me. He hates me, but you and I—we could be friends.”
Evie gives me a hug, which feels amazing, and pulls back, slapping her hand to my chest. Speaking as though Nick isn’tright there, she continues. “Agreed. And hey, don’t let this one get to you. He’s actually a great guy, not that he’d ever let anyone know it, but I think he just likes to keep people at arm’s length. Like, I’m really shocked Jean-Pierre convinced him to do the before-and-after picture on the wall and in all of the marketing. Do you know that, until he did the poster, most people who casually knew him didn’t know he was an amputee? Heck, I was with Scout for six months before I had the slightest clue.”
“Hey now,” Nick says, genuinely affronted. “I wasn’t hiding it, I just didn’t think that anyone wanted to see a prosthetic. If you didn’t know, that’s on your wife.”
Scout’s face is pure protest. “Maybe I was just letting you tell your own story, ever think about that?”
I’m watching this exchange like a damned ping-pong match when Evie leans into me and stage-whispers, “I mean, I thought sometimes he walked with a little bit of a limp, but this is such a sporty family, it didn’t strike me as odd.”
I lean into her and whisper back, “What kind of a chance do you think we have of getting him out of those shorts and into something less distracting, like a pair of unflattering sweatpants?”
“I think they’re easy to get on and work well with his prosthetic, which is a big deal for amputees. And, truth be told, he looks just as good in sweatpants.”
“Dammit.”
“The struggle is real, my friend.” Evie’s gorgeous honey-colored eyes sparkle in the beams of sunlight that cross the space, and her raised eyebrow is perfectly groomed. She doesn’t know it yet, but we just became BFFs.
Straightening out the flyers on the counter, I continue our whispered conversation. “I mean, if he’s going to be an angry asshole, he can’t go around in those shorts. It’s too confusing. Like, do you want three feet of personal space in every direction, or do you want everyone with a gay pulse to maul you?”
“Yeah, I totally get it, but those shorts are a big deal, like maybe he’s willing to let other people in, like really see him, so I don’t tease him about them. I also think there is a reason why he’s working with combat vets. He needs to make it better for them somehow, and this is his way of doing that. He doesn’t feel he has anything to offer regular civilians.”
“Um, if nothing else, he offers a spectacular view. That’s god’s work right there.”
“Preach,” she whispers, fist-bumping me. “But… look. I’ll let him tell you about his experiences if he wants to, but just remember not all of his wounds are visible.” Her face is kind as she says this, and it makes me reconsider some of my less-kind assumptions about the man.
Well, shit. “Way to take the fun out of making fun of him, Evie.”
Her fake grimace is over-the-top and perfect. “Ugh, Iknow. Caricatures are way more fun to abuse.”
I flit my fingers about. “True. Well, if he must have layers, at least he’s pretty.”
She slides her arm around me in a half hug, and I let myself feel happy for a half second.
Now that everyone is caught up and Scout and Nick have stopped verbally sparring, we move to the tiny kitchen and sit around the table where I’d interviewed just the day before. Nick grabs the three-ring binder from Scout, and it’s filled with all of the various amputations and battle wounds they’ve seen, and the recommended exercises and adjustments which can be made for each.
“I’d like for you to study this, damn near memorize it. Because in the last six months, I’ve seen pretty much every single one of these, and you want to feel confident in what you’re suggesting to people, because what they need is somebody who sounds confident.” Nick is serious as he says this, and I dare a look into those dangerous brown eyes to let him know that the message is received.
He continues. “It’s also important for you to know your place. It’s one thing to give suggestions to someone who is trying to figure out how to make adjustments based on where their body is, it’s another thing entirely to try to be prescriptive. You’ve got the chops with the physical training, but you are not here to diagnose anything. You’re just here to support people who are minding their fitness. I’m a licensed physical therapist, so if someone begins to ask you questions or needs help that is more than just about the logistics of being amputee getting on a piece of machinery, then you are to direct them to me. Understood?”
“Crystal, sir,” I say.
“Don’t call me ‘sir’—I work for a living,” he says with a smirk.
Wait, was that almost a joke? That’s twice now he’s shown something close to humanity.Dammit,I just wanted a hot caricature.Is that so much to ask?
Chapter Four
Nick
According to my watch, it’s 4:45 a.m. when I walk downstairs to the gym, and I figure I’ll have a few minutes to myself before Elijah makes it in. I had the perfect out for him earlier this week, but Roly wouldn’t let me fire him.That’s all right, I can be an adult, I think to myself as I let myself in the back door.Just need to hit up Grindr and remove temptation.
At first, I think I must’ve left the lights on when I closed last night, but then Elijah comes out of the showers, his hair wet, kinda sexy in his new Wrecked gear. He’s a trim little thing, and I’m surprised the Army didn’t put more weight on him during his time served. Still, he’s got definition, and the way he’s starting to stack the weights shows he’s probably stronger than he looks.
When he bends over the bench, the one I know is the perfect height for him, his shirt rides up a bit, revealing pale skin and some interesting tattoos. I’d seen a little bit of his work peek out from the sleeves here and there, but this is probably pretty extensive, and now I’m curious.
