I hated the treadmill too.
“Take a short break, and then we’ll hit the pool,” he said, handing me my water bottle.
Ugh.
I accepted the bottle and straightened up with a groan. My back hated me.
I kinda hated Ethan today too. He’d woken up in the mood to push; that was for sure.
He wasn’t bothering with a T-shirt today either. I’d gotten here just in time for him to finish his workout, and he’d just stayed shirtless.
It wasn’t like I minded the view, but it didn’t feel particularly professional.
“I’ll wipe down the machine—you can go change into your swimsuit,” he said.
“Okay.” I let out a labored breath and stepped down from the treadmill. “I already changed, though.”
He eyed the shoulder strap visible under my baggy T-shirt. “Of course you have. Then chug some water and stretch. I’ll see you down there.”
Hmm. I did as told and headed downstairs, but something about his response bugged me. Why had he said it like that?Of course you have.
Maybe I was overthinking.
The pool area was completely abandoned after the morning classes had wrapped up, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Not even the humidity bothered me, because I’d soon get to sink into that water and shield myself for the next part of my workout. Water was great that way. I was automatically more limber, lighter, and nobody could see me sweat buckets.
I dropped my bag on a chair in the corner, and I made quick work of shedding my tee and leggings. I wanted to be in the water before he showed up.
I’d grown to like the small size of the pool. It was intimate, certainly no bleachers around, and I was allowed to dim the lights. I didn’t this time, since he was joining me.
I’d become a regular here. I usually came down here around one every day, and I stayed for an hour or two, alternating between swimming and jogging and stretching.
I took a quick shower in the far corner, where I also refilled my water bottle, and then I got into the water.
“Finally,” I exhaled.
The pool could’ve been deeper, maybe. The water ended right below my chest when I stood up straight. Then again, for baby swim classes and water aerobics for seniors, anything deeper would be less than optimal.
Ethan came down the stairs soon enough, and I watched him through the glass walls. He had a white towel rolled under his arm, and he was untying the drawstrings of his shorts. Perhaps he’d changed earlier too. I already knew he was a Speedo guy. He had the body of a ripped swimmer, with wide shoulders and… I guessed that was where the similarities ended. Ethan Quinn never missed leg day, and he carried more bulk than a swimmer.
That was the one thing he’d shared about himself during our initial interview, when he’d bombarded me with questions. His first venture into the world of athletics had been to join the high school swim team. He’d also played football. And countless sports after that, which he mentioned in passing. Field hockey, lacrosse, martial arts…
He opened the door and plastered his PT smile on his face, and he walked toward the three showers. “I forgot to ask earlier. When was the last time you had a nice bowl of pasta?”
Hnngh.
“I can’t even remember,” I chuckled.
“I figured.” He reached the corner and unceremoniously dropped his shorts to reveal a pair of black Speedos that he, um, filled out very well. Jesus. “I have a recipe you’re welcome to try this week. I take one part lentil pasta and one part regular pasta, and I serve it with a semi-healthy pesto that I make myself.Throw some sundried tomatoes and shredded mozzarella in there, and you’ve got yourself a feast.”
That…sounded fucking incredible. “My mouth is watering,” I joked. “Is that allowed, though? I know you mentioned metabolic confusion and variety and all that, but it sounds heavy.”
He turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. “It’s a heavier meal, no doubt,” he conceded. “I call it a once-a-week kind of dish. But it’s great in between two bigger workouts.”
I averted my gaze, feeling a bit too much like the women he accused of always gawking at him. “I’d love to try it.” I cleared my throat. “Do you like to cook?”
“I love it, actually.” He let out a chuckle. “Unfortunately, nobody in my family is interested in the food I make.”
So, like…Darius and those people…?
