“What the hell is wrong with you today, Harper? Hmm?”

Nolan sat on a bench, panting, feeling like he was going to vomit, while this obnoxious woman got in his face, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Just having an off day, I suppose,” he ground out. “It happens.”

Bridget stepped out of his space, thank goodness, but still glared at him as if he’d done something to offend her.

“Hmph. Well then, pack it up.”

Nolan, who’d been huffing and puffing thirty seconds before, stopped. “Why? We still have twenty minutes left in the session.”

“Nope. You’re going to end up hurting yourself. And besides, it’s not good for you mentally.” She seemed like she was about to tap him on the head but then redirected her index finger to her own temple. “So come on. Let’s go.” She motioned for him to get up. “Let’s go, Harper.”

Nolan scrambled to his feet. “Hah-pah,” he said under his breath.

“You making fun of the way I talk, hmm?”

“No, ma’am.” He rolled his lips together to keep from grinning. Tahk.

Bridget pursed her lips and huffed a little. Then she turned on her heel and strode to the break room. Nolan tried not to look at her backside but couldn’t quite keep his eyes away.

Yeah, she was good-looking.

She started opening containers and dumping scoops of powder into a tumbler. She added water and began shaking the tumbler vigorously.

“So, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“About you. About Nolan Harper. What’s your story?”

“Uh, well . . .”

She arched an eyebrow.

“I take insurance claims over the telephone. Since I sit all the time, I thought it would be wise to, you know, get some exercise.”

“Hmm. Okay.” She handed him the shake. “Drink that. You’ve been working hard.”

Nolan took a sip of the shake and chuckled. “Chocolate peanut butter?”

“You seem like a chocolate peanut butter kinda guy.”

She sat and waited while Nolan drank his shake. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. When he’d finished half, he started talking again.

“I had a heart attack three years ago. Keeled over during dinner service, took a whole prep area of Kobe beef out with me.” He gave her a timid smile. “Doc told me that if I didn’t change some things, I was gonna die. So I quit the restaurant and got a desk job. Stopped drinking, started eating a little better. I used to weigh almost four hundred pounds.”

“You’ve lost a lot, then.”

He nodded.

“It’s impressive, Nolan. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“Nolan, look at me.”

He met her eyes for the first time that day.

“You’ve done a great job.”

“Thanks,” he said again.

Bridget sighed. “You’ll believe it someday. I hope sooner rather than later.”

She began wiping down the counter and putting the containers back where they belonged.

“It’s really dumb. The reason, I mean.”

“Try me.”

“There are these guys on my team, right? They’re super built, veiny. Not an ounce of fat on ’em. They bring their lunch, just like I do, but, you know, they have the branded portion-control packs and the carrier and all that, and I use lunch meat containers and plastic grocery bags.”

Bridget rolled her eyes. “I know the type. Thank God that particular flavor of gym rat doesn’t last too long around here.” Nolan nodded. “Did they give you a hard time?”

Nolan barked a bitter laugh. He’d felt like he was back in middle school, when his father had moved the family to Nashville, to an upscale neighborhood, and Nolan had shown up with his brown sack lunch, proud because his family didn’t qualify for the free lunch program anymore. He’d been mercilessly teased for the way he talked and dressed, and for his size. The coaches had tried to get him to play football for a while but had eventually given up because Nolan didn’t have an aggressive bone in his body. If there was one thing having a father like Chet Harper taught him, it was how to keep your head down and avoid notice, even when you were six feet tall and over two hundred pounds at the age of twelve.

“Yeah, I made the mistake of asking them what their protein-to-carb ratio was, and then later I heard them talking about what a fat-ass I was.” He sighed. “Bullies never change, you know? They just move from the school yard to the boardroom. Or the wannabe boardroom. Those guys are gonna be stuck in middle management for the rest of their lives because they’re content to coast.”

Bridget leaned back against the cabinets and crossed her arms. He could feel her examining him from top to bottom.

“How long do you think they’d last in the kitchen? I mean, provided they were capable of cooking something other than brown rice and chicken.”

Nolan barked a laugh. “Ten minutes, tops. They wouldn’t be able to control the sous-chefs, and the GMs would be reaming their asses every five minutes.”

“See? You are so much better than them, Nolan. I know I don’t know you at all, but the fact that you gave up something you loved because you knew it was killing you proves you are strong.  A lot of people aren’t brave enough to part with something that’s toxic, simply because they’re familiar with it. They’d rather die knowing it’s bad than take a chance and risk failure.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

Bridget shrugged. “Maybe. You never know what people are capable or incapable of, you know? Sometimes they surprise you.”

“And sometimes, unfortunately, they tell you exactly what they’re gonna do, and you still don’t believe them.”

Bridget leaned her head back and laughed, a full, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Nolan’s spine.

“Nolan Harper, you are something else.” She clapped her hands together. “You feel better?”

He nodded.

“Good. Now get outta here. I’m sure you have something better to do than to hang around a fight club.”

Nolan shrugged, and the idea of asking her out to see Tobias perform flickered in his head, but he quickly dismissed it. Bridget wasn’t the type of woman who would go out with the likes of him, even if she was kind enough to listen to his blathering.

“I’ll let you get out of here. Thanks, Bridget.”

“Sure. C should be back for your next session, but I’ll be around. It was nice working with you, Nolan Harper.”

He bobbed his head. “Likewise, Bridget Doherty.”