Ivy had grown to admire all three and considered them very close acquaintances, since she didn’t really do the whole friend thing. Except, of course, for Hope. And Sean. And maybe Gabe. And Joel was more honorary big brother than friend. Anyway, the whole friend thing was still outside her wheelhouse, but she’d allowed these gals to crack her shell, because she really, really liked them. And, more importantly, each of them had taught Ivy something about strength, resilience, and grit over the last few years, which had also earned them her respect.
The tall, toned, and gorgeous Erica was first in the lineup. She was probably Ivy’s closest co-worker. Up until last night, that title had gone to Sean, but since the kiss debacle, Erica had quickly been upgraded to gym bestie.
Wendy, who was standing beside Erica, was one of the gym’s Brazilian jiu-jitsu instructors—and the only resident fashionista. Her ebony ponytail gleamed like silk falling over her shoulder to her waist. She looked ready to grace the cover of a fitness magazine, not kick ass in a class in half an hour.
At the tail end, there was Christine, the only woman Ivy knew in real life who had an eight pack. She was the vegan who could lift twice Ivy’s body weight without breaking a sweat, and Ivy’s spotter of choice when bench-pressing.
As Ivy pushed open the door, all three women raised their chins slightly off their palms, three sets of eyes widened hopefully as they looked beyond her, then drooped in unison when Ivy emerged through the entrance, alone. Disappointment was palpable.
She slowed her stride as she approached the desk.
“Am I missing something, ladies?” She glanced over her shoulder at the door she’d walked through, because clearly something better than she had been expected.
“It’s Tuesday,” Erica offered by way of explanation.
This meant nothing to Ivy, so she responded by nodding slowly. “Yes, and tacos are two dollars at the Taqueria today. Lunch is on me. Why the puppy dog faces?”
“It’s training day. And they’ll be here any minute, so if you’ll just—” Wendy made a shooing motion with her hand, waving Ivy away from the door she was blocking.
“This is a gym. Every day is training day.” Instead of walking by the desk and down the hallway to her PT clinic, Ivy ducked under the liftable flap top and joined the ladies behind the counter.
“Oh my God! I think they’re here!” Christine shrieked.
All three women threw themselves closer to the desk and the door on the other side like a bunch of hyped-up boy band superfans straining against a red-carpet partition gate. All they needed were hand-painted ‘Kiss Me!’ signs.
Moments later, five tall, buff, and good-looking men sauntered through the doors. One had the Portland Fire & Rescue logo on his dark-blue t-shirt. Another had it on the duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hey ladies,” one of the hulks drawled as they strode by the reception desk.
A couple of the others winked at them.
“Good morning, fellas,” Erica purred in her rich, raspy voice.
Wendy squeaked in what probably was meant to be some sort of greeting, and Christine leaned against the counter, her biceps snug against either side of her chest, making her firm breasts appear more supple and prominent in her workout top.
Ivy curled her lip. “Huh?”
Erica, Wendy, and Christine were highly trained, extremely capable, intelligent women whom she considered mentors, advocates, and fellow feminists. They worked hard to build a reputation and a name for themselves in a male dominated sporting arena. They kicked asses and took names later. She’d seen them all take down men twice their size. Erica had a girlfriend at home for chrissake, and yet all three were shamelessly gawking at the firefighters.
Their gazes followed the men as they weaved through the equipment toward the training ring at the back.
Wendy sighed. “Jason winked at me.”
“Luke looks so hot when his hair is curling out from under his backward baseball cap. I mean, God, I could eat him for breakfast,” was Christine’s assessment.
“Tightest asses I’ve ever seen,” Erica observed.
“Are you guys kidding me?” Ivy announced loudly, drawing the attention away from said tight asses. “You’re undoing at least a decade’s worth of women’s lib with that disgusting display of male adoration.”
Wendy looked at her like she had grown a second head, potentially even a third. “Ivy, just because I can flatten any one of them in under a minute, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a fine ass when I see one.”
Erica nodded. “I’m still gonna stick it to the patriarchy. But I can also enjoy the early morning eye candy while I do it.”
Ivy’s jaw dropped open. “What would Anna say?” she asked of Erica’s long term, live-in girlfriend.
Erica shrugged casually. “She’d agree that them boys have some firm asses.”
Ivy groaned. “I can’t believe this. You three were my heroes.”
