“I need your help and I can’t have donuts around at a time like this.”
She sits down at the table, licking the sugar off her fingers. “What’s up?”
“What’s up is I’m going to be naked this weekend and this body has been consuming refined sugar and complex carbs for the past two years. The only way I’ve worked up a sweat is by eating spicy food or cleaning the bathroom.”
“Naked?” Her eyes light up with mischief. “The steak?”
“Yes.”
“So, the date went well?”
“The date did and now he’s asked me over to his house on Friday.”
“And the plot thickens.” She leans back in the chair and crosses her legs in front of her with a smirk.
“This isn’t some mystery. He’s a man. I’m a woman. We’re both old enough that we’re not holding our V cards, so sex is absolutely on the table for Friday and—”
“Let’s hope it’s on the table. Table sex is all kinds of fun.” She bites her lower lip and I’m sure she’s remembering some escapade she’s had in the past, but I do not want details.
“Can you focus for a second?” I can hear the panic creeping into my voice.
She gives her head a little shake and looks back in my direction. “Vic, when he unwraps you, he’s going to be drooling over what he finds.”
“No, he won’t. I’m pretty sure he’s never slept with a woman who has had a child before. I have five days to lose fifteen pounds.”
Chelsea eyes my coffee and I follow her line of sight. “Shit.” With one last sip to remember it by, I throw it in the trash.
“Only black coffee from this point forward.” She sits up straight in her chair and leans forward, game face on.
I nod.
“We’re going to cleanse.” She stands and heads to her office.
I follow her. “But I shower every day?”
She stops walking and spins around to face me. “Not that kind of cleanse, woman. And you’re heading to the gym with me after work. Tonight, is boot camp.” She resumes walking to her office.
“But last time I went with you—”
She stands behind her desk, her fingers pressed to the hard surface, her gaze on me. “Okay, yes overdid it and had spaghetti legs for a few days, but—”
“Besides, I have class later.”
“Ladies?” Hannah’s voice rings through the office.
“In here,” I say, peeking my head out of Chelsea’s office.
“What’s the scuttlebutt this morning? Chelsea’s date?” She tosses her bag next to mine and takes off her designer coat, hanging it up on the coat hook.
“No date this weekend. It was my cousin’s bridal shower.”
“Oh, that must’ve been fun,” I say.
She raises her eyebrows. “Have you ever been to a fun bridal shower?”
“Mine was fun.” I shrug.
“Because you got all the gifts. Not to mention, my cousin insists on having a super-short engagement and so it was all just thrown together. And she let the guys crash it, so one of these things is not like the others.” She points to herself.
My lips turn down.
“Add on the fact that my family already thinks there’s something wrong with me since my marriage lasted all of two-point-two seconds and I get to re-live that whenever we’re at something remotely wedding related.” Her body shivers. “Hence my weakness to sugar donuts this morning. I’m an emotional eater.”
Hannah glances my way, a huge smile on her face. “Donuts?”
“Don’t waste your time, Vic threw them out.”
Hannah pouts. “No donuts?”
“Nope, and we’re going on a cleanse,” Chelsea says.
“Oh, I want to join.” Hannah sounds like we just said we’re going to Vegas for a girl’s weekend, not beginning a liquid funk. “I have just the person to help us. Wait, why are we doing this?”
Chelsea and I laugh at her train of thought.
“Victoria’s getting naked this weekend.”
Hannah’s neck twists my way. “So, he’s that good?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Did you kiss?”
“Yes.”
“And?” she asks and both their eyes zero in on me.
“It was phenomenal.”
“Then he’s gotta be good in bed. I’ve never had a bad kisser be good in bed or vice versa.” She leaves the office. “Okay, I’m calling my guy. Clear our schedules for this afternoon.”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I love working for Hannah Crowley.
Later that afternoon, Chelsea and I follow Hannah into a storefront that looks nothing like a gym. And when I see that the guy who approaches us is wearing a unicorn hat on his head and purple leotard leggings, I’m wondering exactly what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
“Um,” Chelsea winds her arm through mine. “This is odd. Even for me.”
“Tad.” Hannah approaches him, and they kiss on the cheek and hug. Tad’s gaze lands on us over Hannah’s shoulder.
“These are them?” he asks, eyeing us top to bottom.
Hannah turns nodding at us with a big smile. “These are my girls. Victoria and Chelsea.” She points to each of us as she says our names.
“Pleasure,” he approaches and does the double air kiss on each side of our cheeks, where you never actually make contact with the person. “Excuse the get-up, we’re not your typical sweat center. I like things to be fun.”
“Fun is good,” Chelsea says.
“So…which of you is the desperate one?” He looks between us both.
“This one.” Chelsea thumbs my way.
He winds his arm through mine. “Let’s get started. That ass isn’t gonna lift itself with us just standing here, sweetie.”
I give Hannah my best wide-eyed help me look as I pass her, but she just chuckles under her breath. Traitor.
“So, who’s the guy?” Tad asks, his other hand patting my forearm.
“Um…”
“He was the best man at her wedding,” Chelsea calls out, walking with Hannah behind us.
“Oh!” He turns his head and his gaze finds Hannah for a second. “The body always wants what it shouldn’t. Right, Han?” His eyebrows waggle.
“Quiet, Tad.”
Chelsea moves her finger sideways between the two of them. “What are we missing?”
“Nothing.” Hannah shoots Tad a look of warning. “We’re here for Victoria.”
“Right.” He stops when we reach a long reception counter, takes my hands and pulls them out, taking in my body again. “First. You’re gorgeous, honey and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Thank you.” I smile at him in appreciation.
“But anyone can use some cleansing and a detox. All that bloating will disappear, and your skin will look ten years younger, fifteen in candlelight.” He lets my arms drop and heads to a cabinet, taking out several bottles and placing them on the counter.
“Three, right Hannah Banana?” he asks, never turning around.