No.
I do that every night. It’s time to shake things up.
I make my way over to Whitwick Street, which is a few blocks from the salon. Darlinton is a small town, but it's been one of those ‘up and coming’ places for the last five years or so. Investment, young couples moving in and doing up old houses, a shopping mall built just outside town; the area is on the map suddenly and lots of new people have arrived.
This new gym, Langstones, is proof of that. It looks like something you might see in the city, with wooden floors, a reception area with a sign saying “Be The Inspiration” in neon letters and cool-toned walls.
There’s no one at the reception desk. The inside smells of a sort of smoky, masculine pine scent, courtesy of the expensive-looking candle burning on the table in the corner. Music’s playing in the background, that sort of off-beat, grungy, lo-fi stuff where I never have any idea who the artist is.
I tap my foot on the floor, uncertain of what to do next. Having someone at the reception desk is the number one priority when you own a business like this. I’m pretty organized and I spot this kind of thing all the time. And I want to fix it. Except it’s not my gym.
The phone behind the desk starts ringing and I resist the urge to answer it.
The door behind the desk bangs open and an absolute giant of a guy storms through it, looking like he’s charging at someone on a battlefield. He spots me and slows his pace a little, before he grabs the phone.
“Langstones.” His voice is so deep it sends flutters from my stomach to the crown of my head.
He nods as the person calling replies, looking directly at me the whole time with his amber brown eyes. I’m still not sure what to do, so I go over and inspect the fitness magazines lying by the candle.
He’s typing on the computer as I try to catch my breath.
I wasn’t expecting someone who looked like a warrior god to come storming through that door. I know Dale had said the brothers were cute, but not on this kind of level. I’m sure my cheeks are flushed. This is stupid. I’m here to get in shape, not drool all over the staff.
“Can I help you?”
I don’t turn around, assuming he’s finishing his conversation.
He clears his throat. “Excuse me, can I help you?”
Oh shit, he’s finished his call.
I whip round to face him. He’s standing in front of the desk; he’s got to be 6’6” at least, with a thick head of dark hair and a matching beard. His body is thickly muscled, his chest the broadest I’ve seen, and I feel tiny in his presence. Which is really not something that happens often, since I’m 5’10” with, as Dale describes it, “curves for days”.
I take a second to wonder what he asked me. He wants to help me, that’s it. A sudden image of him picking me up and carrying me off into his cave pops into my brain.
I swallow and then take a deep breath. “Your offer?” My voice is a little squeaky.
He raises an eyebrow.
Oh shit. That sounded weird. Time for another try.
“You have an offer? To join the gym and get training sessions? I’d like to sign up.” That was better.
He’s still gazing at me and my pulse speeds up. Part of me wants to open the door and run outside, while the other part wants to walk right up to this gorgeous man and do something totally inappropriate, like squeeze his massive muscles to see if they’re real.
He clears his throat again. “Sure, of course. I’m Cole. Would you mind filling this in and I’ll be right back with you?”
He hands me an iPad and I smile. “Thanks, Cole. I’m Alyssa by the way.”
He nods and walks to the door behind the desk, opening it more gently this time. I stare down at the form.
This is so weird. I can’t ever remember a guy having that kind of effect on me. Maybe I’m in shock about how he barged through the door. He didn’t seem that friendly. But the gym is nice and I’m not a quitter. I also can’t bear to tell Dale that I ran away just because the hottest guy I’ve ever been in the same space with made me forget my address.
I rub my hand over my eyes and start filling out the form. It asks me about health conditions, my height, weight, age and lots of other things. I’ll give these gym guys credit - they’re certainly thorough.
The door opens and my stomach does the hula. But instead of Cole, a pretty, petite woman with wavy hair up in a ponytail walks in.
“Hey, I’m Juni. Sorry I wasn’t here to do the meet and greet. We had an emergency with an open window and a bird. None of the guys knew how to handle it. Bird is fine. Not so sure about the guys.” She laughs.
