CHAPTER ONE
BUTCH
You wouldn’t thinkit would be possible to get bored surrounded by an endless supply of free weights and buff, sweaty dudes preening and grunting, but some mornings I need more.
“Come on, one round.” I lean over the desk and wiggle my fingers at Silas to tempt him. “I’ll even throw in a protein shake.”
“What if he already had his protein shake this morning?” Fender smirks and waggles his eyebrows, leaning his shoulder against the wall a few feet behind Silas.
I frown and cock my head, then glance at the clock hanging on the wall.
“Silas always has his protein shake for lunch. Breakfast is a six egg and veggie omelet. He’s told us his meal plan, like, a hundred times,” I point out.
“No, I meant…” Fender shakes his head and laughs without finishing his sentence.
“I haven’t had a protein shake of any kind yet this morning… or in months, for that matter,” Silas mutters. “But I don’t have time to play with you. I have a client coming in any second.”
“But I’m bored.” I turn my attention firmly back to Fender and give him a toothy smile while doing the finger wiggling thing again. “How about you? Protein shake whether you win or lose.”
“No way. You almost tore my arm out of the socket last time. If you’re bored, you can come back to the ring and let me practice some new moves on you though,” he offers.
I cringe and take a step back instinctively. Last time I fell for that, Fender spent two hours putting me in various headlocks and chokeholds. “Pass.”
AJ and Callan are both busy with clients, so they’re useless to me. I have half an hour until my next client comes in, which is the exact wrong amount of time to kill. It’s not long enough to get into anything but too long to just stand here and wait. I drum my fingers on the desk and consider my options.
“Why don’t you do some push-ups or something?” Silas suggests.
“Yeah, okay.” It’s as good of an idea as anything else, so I take another step away from the desk and drop into position right there.
Actually, this was better than a good idea, it was agreatidea. I grunt out the count under my breath with each up, and I let the burn in my muscles chase away the boredom that was crushing me. If you ask me, there’s nothing better than the feeling of working your body, pushing yourself until you start to sweat and you’re not sure you can keep going, and then crashing right through that wall to the other side.
Except for sex. Sex is better. But since that isn’t an option to bust the boredom this morning, I’ll settle for push-ups.
There’s awhooshbehind me as the door opens and the sound of traffic from outside rushes in, along with the cool fall breeze.It’s probably Silas’s client, but I glance up anyway without breaking my rhythm.
“Hey, welcome to Sweat,” I grunt on autopilot as I push myself up again.
The guy standing in the doorway looks up from the phone in his hand with wide eyes.
“This… isn’t the bakery.”
I bark out a laugh and jump to my feet. This isn’t Silas’s client, which means he’s fair game to play with. Now that I’m on my feet and getting a good look at him, it’s obvious he didn’t mean to come to Sweat. He’s dressed in a knit sweater and a pair of khaki slacks, with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and no gym bag in sight. He looks around again like he’s expecting the gym equipment to disappear and be replaced with a cake display.
“Want to arm wrestle?”
“What?” He sputters a laugh and tugs nervously on the strap of his bag, his gaze darting around like he’s expecting to find someone filming his reaction for one of those shitty TikTok prank channels.
I hold up my arm and wiggle my fingers in the same way I did when I tried to tempt the guys earlier.
“Arm wrestling,” I say again. “I’ve been trying to get someone to throw down with me all morning, but they’re all too chickenshit to try.”
“The word you’re looking for is ‘mature,’” AJ shouts from one of the treadmills where he’s running side by side with his training client without breaking his stride. “We’re too mature to arm wrestle you.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “I think they’re scared,” I lower my voice to whisper to the new guy.
He laughs again and his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.
“Can you blame them?” he mutters, eyeing my arms.
