Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
And this guy kept saying he wanted honesty and straightforwardness.
It was time to pick up the pace again, and I could feel my heart pounding a little faster. But it was the pain in my back that bothered me way more. For every step I took, I felt it creeping forward, one stabby twinge at a time.
Ethan finished his no-doubt-gross protein shake, and I wasn’t too out of breath to ask questions yet. Sue me, I was curious how far off the mark I was.
“Do you have wheatgrass, protein, and spinach in there?” I asked.
He cocked a brow and screwed the cap back on the lid. “No, no, and no. Cold-brewed green tea, ginger, and lemon.”
Huh.
I wasn’t that far off; he still fit the stereotype requirements, but the ingredients were kind of interesting to me. “Why cold-brewed?”
“I can’t stand lukewarm, and if I prepared it the way I liked—as in hotter than lava—I’d kill all the antioxidants.”
Double-huh.
“Are you profiling me?” he asked, amused.
I let out a chuckle, my breathing labored, and shrugged a little. “I guess I’m curious about how the other side lives,” I joked.
For a hot second, it looked like he was caught up in the humor and was about to say something, but he stopped himself. Maybe as if he was reminding himself he was with a client and couldn’t say whatever he wanted.
“My lifestyle is definitely not for everyone,” he said instead. “But I chose to pay a high price for—well, all this.” He motioned vaguely to himself, and I lifted my brows a little. It was the first time I got a tiny glimpse of his Instagram persona.
A sharp pain in my lower back derailed my thought, just as well, and I winced and reached behind me to rub the base of my spine.
Ethan pushed away from the wall and glanced at the display. “You in pain?”
“Yeah.” I did my best to regulate my breathing. It was fucking embarrassing to be so out of breath at—
“Okay, now we know. You’ve been walking for six minutes,” he said. “Next week, that pain won’t hit you till later. It’s the upside of starting at the bottom—you’ll see so many improvements in a short period of time, Natalie.”
“Does that mean I can get off the treadmill now?”
He laughed. “That’s funny.”
Fucker.
CHAPTER 4
Ethan Quinn
“I’m telling you—she’s a lesbian,” I said, stepping out of the shower. “Not a single lingering fucking look my way. Not one. And you’ve seen me.”
“Sometimes I wish you’d hear the shit falling out of your mouth,” Ave replied.
What? I was just speaking the truth. I wrapped my towel around my hips and headed for the sauna, and Ave followed. In a way, so did Natalie. The ghost of her. Man, she bugged me. She’d been in my head all weekend.
“So is this a client or a Tinder date?” Ave asked.
“I met her upstairs.” I didn’t specify further than the gym. There was a slight chance Natalie was related to my brother-in-law, and seeing as Avery was my other brother-in-law, I had another reason to keep my mouth shut about personal shit.
I blew out a breath and got comfortable on the top bench, and I rotated my shoulders. Today’s workout in the boxing ring had been brutal. Ave must’ve had a taxing weekend, because he usually—aw, fuck. I winced as pain shot through my left shoulder.
“Jesus, man. What did Elise do to you this weekend?” I rubbed my shoulder carefully.
Ave chuckled. “All the things her big brother doesn’t wanna hear about.”
I side-eyed him. Fucking dick. “Then why did you come at me like I was one of your snotty students?”
That made him laugh. Then he shrugged and wiped a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I feel like I should step up my game. We had Willow over for dinner on Friday, and long story short, she placed me in the dad-bod category when they were discussing celebrities. She was talking about some actor, and she looked me up and down and went, well, he’s got that dad bod like you.”
I lifted my brows. He shouldn’t read too much into that. Both my baby sisters were autistic; Avery had married the one who thought a little bit before she blurted things out, and the other one was Willow. Lord knew I loved them—they had everyone in the family completely wrapped—but their unfiltered truths could pack a punch. Never ill intended. They were sweethearts, the babies in the family, significantly younger than the rest of us, and…utterly fearless around their brothers.
Willow couldn’t be around people too much, so that was why I’d agreed to two midnight workouts every week when my gym was empty.
“You’ve known her since she was two shits high—she’ll blurt things out—”
“And that’s how I know it’s the truth,” Ave pointed out. “I’ve grown too comfortable. You try being married to a pastry chef and see how that works out for your abs.”