Bree ignored the barb. Moving into the spare bedroom of Thea’s small house in Benton had been a win-win situation for them both. Sharing expenses gave them each extra spending money, and now Thea could stay at Gil’s house on Kentucky Lake as often as she wanted without fretting about her cat, Dandy, getting lonely.
And Dandy—short for Dandelion because he’d been a yellow puffball as a kitten—had given Bree his stamp of approval by sleeping at least half of every night splayed across her feet.
Bree gathered the stack of applications from the front counter and took them to the gym’s office where Stacy, a college student who’d be working there part-time, would enter them into the computer. Stacy had already left for her night class, so Bree thumbed through the pile, glancing at the addresses. There seemed to be a good representation from most of the small communities of Marshall County. A few were obviously closer to Paducah or Murray, so she could only surmise the grand opening special discount had served its purpose.
Many of the new members indicated they wanted to work with a personal trainer. She and Gil would divide those up as equally as possible, depending on whether weight loss or strength training was the primary goal. Surprisingly, at this point, strength training seemed to be in the lead, but not surprisingly, the majority of those who wanted to achieve weight loss were women. Nature’s way of helping her stay good on her promise of no involvement, perhaps, since she’d be handling the clients looking for weight loss.
Her stomach growled a reminder that it was time for one of her six small meals, so she headed to the fridge at the snack bar. Gil hadn’t found anyone to run the area yet, so today the two of them had taken turns with the part-time employees keeping protein water, fruit, nuts and smoothies in the hands of potential customers. Consequently, things were a bit of a mess, and nothing was where she’d left it.
She rummaged through all the shelves of the fridge, looking for the other half of the turkey breast on organic whole grain bread that she’d brought from home. Oh, man, if someone had eaten her special sandwich she’d saved until this evening, she would be pissed.
“Where is it?” she fumed, turning her attention to the drawers at the bottom.
“Well, I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I think I’ve found what I’m looking for.”
The deep voice and its ensuing laugh caused Bree to straighten too quickly, banging the base of her head on the door of the freezer.
“Damn!” She grabbed her head and whirled around, biting back another expletive, reminding herself this was probably a customer—who had been inappropriately ogling her rear.
The poor guy’s grin faded with one look at her, and he stepped back, eyes wide.
Big blue eyes wide.
The big wide shade-of-blue-Mom-called-Paul Newman–blue eyes caused an unwelcomed pulse to run through Bree’s system.
Don’t even. She slapped herself mentally.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He picked up one of the price lists from the bar. “I was looking for one of these, and that guy sent me over here.” He nodded in the direction of the weight room where Gil was demonstrating the correct way to perform a bench press to an elderly man.
Ashamed that she’d mistaken this guy’s meaning and allowed her own libido off its leash, Bree smiled through the pain. “I’m the one who should apologize for my language.”
He grinned, flashing a set of killer dimples. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
Bree gritted her teeth at her body’s reaction to his smile. “Still inappropriate on my part, though.” Truer words were never spoken. She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Bree Rice, one of the trainers.”
“I’m Kale Barlow.” He gave her hand a shake and then dropped it quickly. He pointed to the picture of her and Gil on the price page. “You’ve cut your hair.”
“Yeah. That’s a couple of months old. Keeping it in a constant ponytail was heavy and causing the ends to break. I thought I’d try it short for a while.” She hadn’t admitted to anyone, it was also her symbolic cut with Lang and Todd and all her past mistakes.
The new gym called for a new start with a new attitude and a new “do.”
He nodded absently and then seemed to remember why he’d come. “I’m thinking I might be interested in the full-service membership. The one that will let me work one-on-one with somebody.”
“Great!” Bree pushed a little more enthusiasm into her voice than she felt. “What are you hoping to get from working with a personal trainer?” Please, say muscle tone or anything that will land you with Gil.
“Well, I’ve been working out on my own, and I’ve lost over twenty pounds,” he said, pride evident in his voice.
“Good!” Bree breathed a little easier. “Good for you.”
“But...”
Bree’s breath hitched at the word.
“I still need to lose twenty or thirty more pounds.” He stepped out from behind the bar he’d been leaning on and grabbed the spare tire around his stomach, giving it a jiggle.
No doubt about it, Kale Barlow was enough overweight to be unhealthy, and she could help him fix that. But his smile—and those eyes!—held an all-too-familiar element of danger. Bree’s insides started a tug-of-war.
“You know, a personalized weight-lifting program would build muscle tissue,” she offered. “And muscle uses more calories than fat, so you could just follow some nutrition guidelines—”
Gil had finished with the elderly man and now walked up to join their conversation. “If it’s nutrition guidelines you want, Bree here’s your expert.” Gil’s arm went around her shoulder for a quick hug.
Bree forced a smile past her tight jaw muscles. “But, as I was saying, the pounds can really fall off once you start building muscle.”
“But—” Gil interjected again, “muscle is denser than fat, so some people get discouraged when they start strength training because they might see the scale going up instead of down. The trick is to keep an eye on your measurements.”
Confusion settled into the deep blue of Kale Barlow’s eyes. “I’m doing pretty good with the weight thing. I’m really hoping to get some more pounds off fairly quickly.”
“Then Bree is the perfect personal trainer for you if you’re looking at the full-service package.”
Bree flinched. She’d used those same words all day long. Why had the term full-service package chosen this exact moment to sound sexual?
Kale’s eyes scanned the list of services on the paper and then nodded. “Yep. That’s what I want. Where do I sign?”
“I’ll grab a membership form.” Bree scurried back to the office for the form and her schedule, glad for a bit of distance to clear her head.
It had been a long day, and she was tired. Maybe even a little vulnerable.
She paused. That was it. Vulnerability was a weakness, and a weakness needed to be turned into a strength.
She loved obstacle courses. Loved the feeling that came with scaling a fifteen-foot wall by climbing a rope. Loved the exhaustion after a grueling six-mile race in mud.
Kale Barlow was an obstacle to her career—waiting to be conquered.
Besides, she didn’t even know him yet. He could turn out to be a total jerk who just happened to be blessed with gorgeous eyes, a killer smile and a deep, sensuous voice.
She hurried back to the snack bar with his form, her schedule and a new resolve.
“Kale’s