When we’re finished, Albert wipes his forehead with a towel.
“Well?”
His eyes cut to Charli. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Charli gasps dramatically.
Albert rolls his eyes.
“Do you think you could do it every morning?” she asks.
He gives her a look.
“How about five days a week?” she asks.
“No.”
“Four?”
Albert thinks about it.
“Three,” he says. “To start.”
Charli extends her hand. “Deal.”
He shakes it reluctantly. “Monday, Wednesday, Friday. And we’ll see how it goes.”
I smile.
We spend the next few minutes cleaning up equipment and putting things away.
That’s when the gym door opens, and Axle walks inside.
He’s wearing gym shorts, a gray T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, and a backward baseball cap.
Damn.
He looks as good dressed for a workout as he does for a rodeo.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Albert says.
Axle stops. “Uncle Albert? What the hell are you doing here?”
Albert gestures around the gym. “They got me exercising.”
Axle’s eyebrows shoot up. “No kidding?”
“I’ll try anything if it keeps me from having to eat chicken feed.”
I laugh.
Charli snorts.
“That bad, huh?” Axle asks.
“Have you ever had turkey bacon, son?”
“Fuck no.”
