Excited that she’d finally found a machine to try out, one that even looked like fun, she hustled down the aisle toward it. But just as she careened around the corner, a man stepped out of a doorway and landed directly in her path. She tried to skid to a stop but pitched too far forward and barreled face-first into him, her cheek smacking into a rock-hard chest.
Two strong hands shot up and grasped her shoulders, holding her with a firm yet gentle grip until she steadied herself. “Whoa. You okay, miss?”
Dazed, she shook her head to clear her blurry vision and then nodded. Sure, she was okay. She’d only collided with a brick wall like one of those crash-test dummies from the TV commercials. No biggie.
Man. Now her face hurt. Gym, two. Preslee, zero.
She rubbed at her sore cheek. “Um, yeah, I’m good,” she said, her gaze lifting to his. “Sorry about…”
Preslee’s mouth went dry, and the ability to form words vanished from her tongue as quickly and as quietly as disappearing ink dries on paper.
His unblinking, deep-set brown eyes, the color of warm bourbon, swept lazily over her face and sent an involuntary shiver spiraling through her. His dark brown hair stood on end in different directions, giving him a tousled, bed-head look, and his broad, powerful body towered over her by at least six inches. Yet he appeared relaxed and unimposing, confidence oozing from him in spades.
Even through his tight black athletic shirt, Preslee could plainly see huge biceps and a thick ridge of hard muscle that rode his wide shoulders. And that only made her wonder what he looked like without his shirt on. No doubt more of that smooth, tanned skin and, if she had to guess, perfect pecs and a chiseled set of abs.
He cleared his throat, and her eyes lifted back to his face. And what a handsome face it was. In fact, he was one of the most striking men she’d ever seen. Not in a GQ model kind of way though. Rather in more of a rugged, manly, I would screw you until you scream my name kind of way. And she couldn’t imagine many women disagreeing with her. Scratch that. Any women disagreeing with her.
He gently released her shoulders. “Sorry. I should’ve watched where I was going.”
Preslee swayed. “I, uh…” What the hell was he talking about? It had been her fault that they’d bumped into each other. Okay, fine, crashed into each other. Whatever. Either way, the sly smile spreading across his face told her that he knew but was polite enough not to point it out. “Um, sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize.” He charmed her with a wink. “I work here. Can I help you find anything?”
Yeah, her breath. Because he’d taken it the moment she’d glanced up at him. Gosh, he was pretty to look at. And he worked at the gym? Had she known that earlier, she might’ve come in sooner or at the very least signed up for the yearly membership. “No. I’m good. Thank you though.”
“All right,” he said, stepping aside and sweeping one arm out. “Ladies first.”
Preslee couldn’t help but smile. He’d probably only done that so there was zero chance of her mowing him down for a second time, but she strolled past him without another word. Once she moved farther away, she glanced over her shoulder to see if he was still standing there and blew out a relieved breath that he’d continued on his way in the opposite direction.
So she did the same. And tripped over air, her feet stumbling a little before she caught herself. Oh man. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen that. Sadly, it was a common, everyday occurrence for her, one her clumsy self had grown accustomed to. Unfazed, she carried on her way.
Reaching the huge, black stair-climbing machine, she stepped up onto it and climbed the several steps to the top. She gazed at the machine’s buttons for a second before finding a green quick-start button and pressing it. The stairs slowly began to move, descending beneath her, and she stepped up onto the next step. She alternated each foot as she gradually climbed each step. Right. Left. Right. Left.
Yep, definitely easy.
Actually, probably too easy. Because it didn’t take long for the routine stepping to become boring. She walked faster than this through the grocery store, for goodness’ sake. Shouldn’t it be more of a challenge?
As she continued to idly climb the stairs, she let her mind wander, going over her long day at work. She recalled how busy she’d been taking inventory, how many orders she’d received, and how the phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Then she remembered something else that had her groaning. She had promised to do an update for her followers on her antiquing vlog before leaving work—something she’d failed to do. Crap.
Preslee wasn’t all that great at social media. Sadly, the antique shop’s online presence consisted only of a fairly basic website and an Instagram account with a small number of followers. Still, Preslee hated disappointing anyone, especially when it came to the loyal customers who were supporting her father’s store. When she made them a promise, she always did her best to keep it. But with the upsetting phone call from the doctor this morning, the rush to find workout clothes at lunchtime, and the angst that came along with joining the gym, she’d forgotten all about it.
Maybe she could do a short video update from here. After all, it was just some information she was sharing about some new antique pieces that would be arriving next week. And lots of other vloggers made videos while doing mundane things, such as driving, shopping, or cooking. Why couldn’t she? It would be…very twenty-first century of her.
So Preslee propped her phone on the stair-climber’s dashboard to stabilize it and began making a short video via a live feed, keeping her voice low so as to not disturb the other patrons. Within minutes, she’d finished her quick update. But as she reached to end the livestream, her hand accidentally brushed across a random button on the stair-climber…and the machine instantly sped up.
Oh crap.
* * *
Adam Caldwell rounded the counter at the check-in desk and clapped Kurt on the back. “Hey, buddy. How are things today?”
Kurt shrugged. “Same as always. Where have you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
“Sorry. Got tied up. My dad called…again.”
Kurt’s brow rose slightly. “Are they still lecturing you about quitting medical school? Man. That was forever ago. Get over it.”
Adam ran a frustrated hand through his unruly hair. “Tell me about it. But I guess me quitting school to open a gym is apparently always going to be a sore spot between us. I can thank Michael for that.”
“Your older brother? Why?”
“He followed in my parents’ footsteps and got a medical degree, that’s why. If he hadn’t become a doctor like both of them, then they probably wouldn’t be so persistent about me going back to med school. But it’s never going to happen. Whether they like it or not, I am exactly where I want to be.”
Kurt nodded. “You would think they’d be happy that you found your dream job. Especially while you’re still in your early thirties. Not everyone does.”
“They don’t care that this is something I enjoy. To them, it’s the equivalent of working in a fast-food restaurant.”
Kurt shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with working in a fast-food place.”
“I agree,” he said with a nod. “But that’s not the way they see it. As far as they’re concerned, if I don’t become a doctor like them, then I’m wasting my life.”