FINISHING WITH MY LAST CLIENT of the day, I make a few notes so I won’t forget what we accomplished during our session and head through the locker rooms to check my schedule for tomorrow.
The upscale fitness club gives our members state-of-the art equipment, group classes, and personal training options. I started working at Lift Me Up after I moved to Arizona to be close to my sister and her boys. At the time they needed my help, and this club was the best paying in the area. I love my career, helping people to better their health, and for the most part it’s a blessing to do what I love for a living. My schedule is unconventional though, lots of nights and weekends, and I consider myself lucky for finding a woman who not only understands, but is supportive. It doesn’t hurt that her PI work with Jon requires the same kind of off hours.
I smile at our receptionist and tap one of the open tablets to find my booked sessions. When I see someone booked me for another private training session tonight, I check the time and walk over to Carrie. “I don’t recognize my last appointment. Did you add someone to my schedule?”
Normally I’d appreciate the extra income, but I’m busy as it is until the wedding. Adding anyone else to my already hectic schedule isn’t good. I’m taking two weeks off for our honeymoon, so it’s a bad time to start someone in a routine only to hand them off to another trainer.
“Wait? You don’t know her?” Carrie furrows her brow and pinches her lips together. “She seemed adamant that you two know each other. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have scheduled her. Nick said no new clients for you until next month. I thought this would be an exception.”
Strange. I study the name again. Lindsay Jones. Lindsay. Not striking any memories. I shrug and smile at Carrie. “Oh, well. No harm. Maybe I’ll remember her once I see her.”
Carrie laughs. “Such a guy thing to say. Evie’s already banished all other women from your mind, hasn’t she?”
“Since the moment I met her,” I admit. Another glance at my wristwatch confirms my mystery client is running ten minutes late. I’ll bet money she never comes. “I’m heading over to the free weights. If Lindsay ever shows up, send her my way. And let her know I can’t stand it when a client’s late.”
“Sure thing.” Carrie goes back to scrolling through her phone. The club is pretty empty this time of night. Fridays start to clear out after seven and resemble a ghost town after eight. Evie texted earlier that “the shit hit the fan” and she’d be late so, instead of waiting around for a no-show, I begin my own workout.
Earbuds in, I stride to an open bench and load the bar with enough weight to warm up my muscles. Scooting under the bar I push it up and bring it back down along my chest. Set after set, my body groans in protest of the challenge, but I push through anyway. I’m completely in the zone when an upside down blonde head enters my peripheral vision.
“Hey there, hot stuff.” She grins as if we’re friends.
Racking the weight, I pull the buds from my ears and sit up on the bench to meet her stare. “Lindsay . . .” It all clicks. The name, the time, the place. Lindsay Jones. Five, maybe six years ago back in Cali. We dated maybe a dozen times, hooked up a few, and I haven’t seen or thought of her since. “You must be my client.”
“Ready to get my sweat on.” She unzips her hoodie and peels it from her arms. “And before you give me a hard time, I’m sorry for being late. The girl up front tried to warn me, but I already remember that about you. I’m still getting the hang of the mass transit system here. Not as easy to navigate as back home, but I’ll get used to it.”
“I’ll give you a pass. This time only.”
“Always were fair. Thank you. So, what’s first?”
“Let’s get you warmed up.” It doesn’t escape me that her eyes light up with my words and I wish I had a giant sign on my head that flashes, “TAKEN.” Since I don’t, I’ll have to be less discreet. “Treadmill for a few minutes. We can catch up. What’s it been, four, five years?”
“Seven.” She laughs.
“Wow. Really? You haven’t changed a bit.” She hasn’t, either. Looks the same as I remember, and with her form fitting workout clothes there’s little left to the imagination. A flash of guilt hits me in the gut for envisioning how she looks naked. Not that I want her, I don’t, it’s just that I can’t help but remember.
Her smile brightens. “You’ve certainly bulked up. Do you compete?”
Crap. Now she’s admiring my body. “Nah. I love fitness, but I don’t have the time or passion for competitions. Too busy planning my wedding.” I tap the buttons on the treadmill to ramp up the settings.
Her brow rises and her lips pull up to one side with a smirk. “Should’ve guessed that. All the good ones are taken. Congrats.” She has to switch to a jog to keep up with the pace.
“So, what brings you to Arizona?”
“Work.”
“I’m sorry. What do you do again? It’s horrible that I don’t remember.” And I don’t, but I also don’t want my questions to seem anything more than friendly.
“I still work at the bank. I transferred out here for a management position.” And that’s when I remember how we met. Teller girl. I’d moved to California and she helped set up my checking account. She was flirty and attractive, still is. We hooked up on occasion, but I broke things off and signed up for direct deposit when it became clear she wanted more.
“Congrats on the promotion,” I say and increase the incline and speed. I have to hand it to her, because she doesn’t even break a sweat as she keeps up with the challenging pace. “Enough chit chat. I’m being too easy on you.” I up the pace some more.
She only grins and takes longer strides. After a few minutes I stop the machine, and she hops off when the gears slow.
“So, Lindsay, what are your fitness goals? It’s obvious you’re in excellent condition.”
“That’s the thing, Tate. I can’t let myself go. I’m afraid being in a new city, with work taking up most of my waking hours, I’ll let my gym time slide. I’m here for accountability.”
I nod, appreciating her foresight in realizing her needs and limits. “That works. Let’s do a mix of cardio and weight training, unless you have a specific area you’d like to concentrate on.”
“Full body is what I need.” She smiles and tilts her water bottle for a drink.
“In that case . . . why don’t we step into my office,” I tease, gesturing to the squat rack.
Her laughter is light when she steps ahead. “Thank you, kind sir.”
The rest of our time together goes by quickly and I make the rare exception of giving her a full hour of training even though she arrived late. It’s something I don’t do often because it only encourages tardiness, but it’s clear to me Lindsay’s here to work. And I felt a little sorry for her. I know how difficult it can be moving to a new city and finding friends. I can’t help but wonder if her need for PT comes from a place of loneliness as much as fitness goals. She’s a cool woman, just as I remember her. We didn’t work out, but it wasn’t for any negative reason. I hope she meets someone who’s her perfect fit. The way I found Evie. Everyone deserves that kind of happiness.