Читать книгу His Kind of Perfection - Pamela Hearon - Страница 10
ОглавлениеMid-October
“THANKS FOR LETTING me stay on, Mr. B. This extra month and a half has helped out a lot.” Josh thrust his hand forward in what seemed like a bit of over-formality, but Kale shook it warmly.
Josh Reeves was a great kid, and Kale wished he could keep him on through the winter. But with the days getting cooler, business had slowed to mainly gas traffic, fishermen and the random houseboat or two a day. Besides, the kid needed some time to participate in extracurriculars. This was his senior year, and he should be enjoying it instead of working every day after school. “You’ve been good help.” Kale added a friendly clap on the boy’s shoulder. “Come April, I’ll be looking to hire you back if you’re interested. In the meantime, if I decide to take some time off—like a weekend or whatever—would you be interested in watching the place?”
“Why? You planning a romantic getaway with Addy or something?” The eighteen-year-old gave him a sly grin.
“You saw, huh?”
Josh nodded.
Kale was aware his own smile was a bit smug, but he couldn’t help it. For almost four months, his occasional calls to Addy to “just catch up” had gone unanswered. And then, she’d shown up at the marina this afternoon, out of the blue. Her body language messages had been mixed—and damn confusing. She hadn’t really come on to him, but she did comment on the weight he’d lost—over twenty pounds since she’d last seen him, and she’d said he looked good.
“Naw, but I might want to do some fishing.” Kale wasn’t sure if his answer to Josh’s question was a lie or not. A weekend with Addy had crossed his mind, but so had fishing. He’d accomplished his first step in his “get Addy back” project—she’d dropped by. That must mean something. But now he thought it best to back off and allow her to do some of the pursuing. Nothing was a bigger turnoff than a desperate guy.
“Fishing. Weekend with Addy.” Josh held his hands palms up and moved them as if weighing the possibilities. “Both of them involve opening a can of worms, Mr. B.”
Kale laughed at the boy’s ever-ready wit—another thing he liked about him. “So your next gig is at a comedy club, right?”
Josh dropped his hands to rest on his hips. “Just calling it like I see it. Anyway, however you spend your weekend, I’d love to cover for you. Anytime you need me, just holler.”
They said their goodbyes but left the specifics hanging since Kale had no definite plans. He waved until the boy was out of sight, and then changed into his reflective clothes and took off for his nightly jog.
He’d started by walking around the parking lot for five minutes and had added an additional five each week until he’d gotten up to forty-five minutes. At that point, he’d decided he’d rather drop dead from exertion than boredom and began to jog. Sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference in his heavy gait. But, at the beginning of October, he’d finally ventured out to the highway and had fixed a goal in his mind of someday jogging all the way to his friend Beecher’s marina at Taylor’s Grove—a nine-mile trek.
But tonight the goal in miles didn’t seem important. The star he was reaching for took on the familiar shape of Addy. He would walk, jog—hell, he’d all-out run, he was so committed to doing whatever it took to get into the shape he needed to be to win her back.
He clocked his distance with his phone, making it a full mile-and-three-eighths—his personal best—before slowing to a walk and turning back for home.
Almost a mile-and-a-half and getting a visit from Addy all on the same day? He felt lighter indeed as a bubble of hope swelled in his chest.
An hour later, his celebration was complete with a cold beer in one hand and one of Mama G’s pizzas in the other.
How Mama G kept her pizzas so hot over the miles of delivery in this rural area of Kentucky amazed him. He dropped the box on the table as he passed and blew on his burning fingers. He grabbed a plate from his cupboard and filled it with three pieces of Mama G’s Special—hamburger, pepperoni, Canadian bacon and green pepper.
When he flipped the carton closed to keep the pizza warm, the bright yellow paper taped to the top caught his eye. Not the usual list of coupons from Benton merchants, this one heralded GRAND OPENING SPECIAL AT BENTON FITNESS across the top, and beneath that a photo of two sickeningly gorgeous people dressed in full workout regalia. The man’s sculpted biceps bulged under the weight of the barbell he gripped in front of his chest while the woman pumped large hand weights with perfect form and, well, perfect everything, as far as he could see.
Kale’s gaze lingered a moment longer on the woman before drifting down to the caption. Manager/Personal Trainer Gilbert Rice and Personal Trainer Brianna Rice are ready to help you become what you’ve always dreamed of being.
Kale affected the voice of Saturday Night Live’s bodybuilding characters, Hanz and Franz. “Gilbert and Brianna Rice. ‘We want to pump—” he clapped “—you up.’” He snorted at his joke.
His gaze drifted back to the photo of the perfect people who enjoyed, he was sure, a perfect marriage. How did people like them find a spouse? No ordinary person would be good enough. Maybe somewhere out there was a special dating service that specialized in uniting perfect people. He could see it now—Your Perfect Match.
Well, one thing was certain—that these two found each other was a good thing. That way, they didn’t mess up two other imperfect people’s lives.
He ripped the paper from the box and looked over the different types of memberships. The prices were reasonable and the gym had flexible hours. He bit into the pizza, which had finally cooled enough to eat.
With cold weather scheduled to arrive soon, a gym membership might not be a bad idea, and adding weight training to his workouts would speed up the entire “getting in shape” process.
Kale set the pizza box in the refrigerator, not as hungry as he’d originally thought. He’d finish it tomorrow for lunch instead of eating the entire thing tonight.
Juggling the plate, two beers and the TV remote, he finally settled on the couch for a couple of hours of football—something he and Addy had always enjoyed together.
Hell, combining jogging with weight lifting, he might get shaped up in no time.
Addy might be warming his bed again before Christmas.
* * *
THE LEAVES OF the white ash tree were on the ground now. The sight sent a pang through Stella. Oh, the oaks were still hanging full, but even they had started to loosen their grip. Two or three more weeks of mowing and all of the leaves would be mulched for the winter.
And then what would become of Ray Cyree?
She knew it was silly to fret about the man. He was at least sixty years old, she’d determined from bits of conversation. Certainly old enough to take care of himself. But he had so little to show for all his years—a plywood box sitting atop an old pickup with a bed taking up most of the space and everything else he owned crammed into storage boxes piled from floor to ceiling.
She shuddered, remembering the “tour” he’d given her last week of his strange home. She hadn’t actually gone in—she didn’t need to. The glance he’d allowed had filled her brain with enough sights to haunt her ever since.
He’d opened the front door and let her sit for a moment in the driver’s seat. The passenger’s seat had been removed, replaced by a short plastic unit with drawers like she’d seen in discount stores. A built-in twin bed took up most of the space, made up with a set of threadbare, but clean sheets. He’d pointed out his kitchen, which consisted of a cooler, a hot plate and built-in shelves filled with every kind of canned soup imaginable.
“I buy a bag of ice every day, and I have a small gas-powered generator when I need heat or electricity to cook,” he’d told her, pointing proudly to his “amenities.”
She’d tried to hide her dismay at his living conditions, but he must’ve seen through her. “I’m a simple man, Ms. Stella. I have everything I need, and most of what I want.”
Perhaps it was that comment that affected her most.
She shifted her gaze from the falling leaves outside to the spacious kitchen she stood in. A 3,500-square-foot house seemed obscene for one person to occupy, and for the fifty-millionth time since Isaiah’s abrupt departure, she wondered if she should downsize.
The thought of leaving her home with its comforts, but most of all its memories, made her heart ache. But the thought of having so much when so many others had so little was a double-edged sword.
“Stop your brooding, Stella,” she admonished herself aloud.
A soft rap on the back door startled her out of her reverie. When she opened it, she was surprised and delighted to meet Ray Cyree’s snaggle-toothed smile.
“Morning, Ms. Stella.”
“Good morning, Ray. You’re a day early. Today’s Wednesday.”
In the four months since they’d met at the park, Ray had become a good friend. She still didn’t know too much about him as he was tight-lipped when it came to talking about his history. A haunted look came into his eyes whenever the subject of wife or children came up, and he would shrug it off. But he could talk endlessly about his travels, and he was punctual to a fault, and for that reason alone, he’d earned her trust.
He pulled a small bouquet of zinnias from behind his back and thrust them awkwardly toward her. “I brought these for you.”
It was Stella’s turn to feel awkward, and she hurried to cover it. “Why, thank you, Ray. They’re beautiful.” She accepted them, but a flicker of worry flared in her mind. She hoped he hadn’t cut them from Sue Marsden’s yard. Sue had a hissy fit if anyone touched her flowers.
Ray’s grin softened. “I finished the concrete work on the church steps yesterday, so the pastor and his wife invited me for breakfast this morning. When I mentioned how beautiful her flowers still were, Ms. O’Malley cut these for me. I thought I’d pass them on to you.” He shrugged. “Just a small way of saying thanks for all you’ve done to help me.”
“Why, that’s very kind of you.” She buried her nose in the flowers, finding only a faint scent lingered.
Ray gave another of his signature one-shouldered shrugs. “Ms. O’Malley should get the credit.”
“Faith and Sawyer O’Malley are dear to my heart.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Did you know we may be in-laws someday?”
“So I hear. Ms. O’Malley mentioned your son and her daughter...?” Ray had held up first one finger for Gil and then added another for Thea. He wiggled them together and crossed them as his tone died away.
Stella smiled and crossed her own fingers. “Yes. We hope.” Aware they had been standing in the doorway for a while, Stella gestured behind her to the kitchen. “Won’t you come in for a cup of coffee?”
“No, ma’am.” Ray nodded toward the garage. “I was wondering if it would be okay if I mowed today instead of tomorrow.”
“Oh, sure. I’m leaving soon for Benton. That new gym where my children are working has its grand opening today. But you know where everything is, and I trust you to lock up when you finish...like always.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ray bobbed his head. “I’m sorry to switch days, but Ollie Perkins needs some changes made to his house—accommodations for his blindness and whatnot—and Pastor O’Malley recommended me for the job.”
“That’s wonderful. You’re making a name for yourself in Taylor’s Grove.”
Ray shrugged. “Just trying to eke out a living, you know?”
Stella nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“Well, once I get started on the rewiring at Ollie’s house, I won’t want to stop in the middle. So I thought I’d get your yard done today, and start on his work tomorrow.”
“That’s fine, Ray.” Stella waved at the leaves falling from the maple tree. “They’re not on a schedule, so you don’t have to be, either. How long will Ollie’s renovations take, do you think?”
“I’m not exactly sure.” Ray’s eyes had followed Stella’s wave and remained on the yard as he continued. “Probably a month or so, if I’m guessing.”
That would take them into November, and the weather here in western Kentucky would be getting chilly. Her worry from earlier resurfaced. “And then what? Will you go south to warmer weather?”
Ray’s gaze wandered back to meet hers, and his smile took on an edge of tenderness. “No, Ms. Stella. I’ve got the best of reasons to stay in these parts. Here’s exactly where I want to be.”
Oh, dear! Stella’s heart dropped into her stomach like a lead weight. If her kindness had been misconstrued as something else, she would have to remedy that immediately.
“Ray.” She hesitated. “I think of you as a good friend. And I’m flattered, really.” She held up the flowers as evidence. “But I...don’t think I’ll ever...uh...”
His eyes widened in shock. “Oh, no, Ms. Stella.” He waved his palms in front of the flowers as if the gesture would make them disappear. “I didn’t mean you! That’s not why I gave you the flowers.”
Relief flooded her, followed closely by a wave of embarrassment. “Oh.” Her face grew hot. “I shouldn’t have assumed...”
Ray’s face was bright red, but his laugh dissipated the tension between them. “I’d never expect a fine-looking woman like you to fall for an old goat like me.” He backed off the steps, eyes still locked with hers. “But you know, Ms. Stella, you’re doing some good man a grave disservice by keeping yourself off the market.”
Stella pressed a cold hand to her warm cheek. “Thank you, Ray.”
“I’d best get to work now...before you try to marry me or something.” He shook his head in mock wonderment and headed for the garage.
Stella was laughing when she closed the door, positive that for the next few days, the flowers she held would wring a giggle from her every time she saw them.
* * *
“I’LL SEE YOU LATER.” Bree’s roommate, Thea O’Malley, gave her a small wave, then rose on tiptoes to kiss Gil goodbye. “And I’ll see you later,” she repeated, though the intonation used the second time sent a totally different message.
Thea’s kiss was followed by a long, direct look into Gil’s eyes that made Bree feel like an intruder. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, y’all. Get a room.”
Gil’s gaze shifted to his sister and he squinted one eye. “We had more options for that before you came along.”
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 the one who leased the marina on Jonathan Creek,” Gil told her while her new client filled out the form.
“Dilly’s old place?” she asked, and Gil nodded. Dilly Myers had been a fishing buddy of their dad’s. The Jonathan Creek area was a popular boating and camping area on Kentucky Lake with a huge draw for tourists, but, although it was only ten miles or so away, Bree couldn’t remember the last time she’d been there.
By the time Kale completed the paperwork, Bree was under control and all business, not the least bit worried when Gil left to process the membership fee on the card reader in the office, leaving her and Kale alone. “So, Mr. Barlow, what days and times work best for you?”
“I close the marina at six during the winter. I can be here by six-thirty easily.”
“Monday, Wednesday, Friday good for a start?”
He nodded.
“This Friday work for you?”
He nodded again, and Bree penciled him in.
Gil returned and handed his card back to him. “Here you go.”
“Well, I guess I’m finished here.” He put the card in his wallet and shook hands with both of them. “Thanks for opening this place. I think it’s exactly what I need.”
“We’re glad to have you, and I look forward to working with you,” Bree told him. “And, if you get the chance before Friday, write down what’s in your refrigerator. We’ll start out with a look at how you eat.” She smiled at the grimace he made before he walked away.
Bree and Gil watched until he was out the door.
“You okay with him?” Gil asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Gil shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seemed a little nervous.”
She shook her head. “Nervous? Hardly.”
“Yeah, he’s really not your type, is he?” She heard the taunt come into her brother’s voice. “Thankfully, you always go for those long and lean, sinewy guys.”
“I told you before, no client involvement. Even if my favorite hunky actor, Sam Heughan, walks through our door, I won’t give him a second look.” She closed her eyes and took a long breath to steel her resolve.
When she opened them, Gil was watching her, worry evident in his eyes. “Made you blink,” he said.
