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)
He let out a warm chuckle and shook his head. “Don’t listen to those people. Complex cards are good for you.”
Tell that to the experts who claimed the opposite.
“A lot of people think you’re wrong,” I had to say.
“A lot of people are making billions selling bullshit,” he replied, not missing a beat. “The problem is, there’s no money in good health. There is, however, a ton of money in medicine and diet food.”
Yeah, Facebook needed a status for “committed to my PT.”
I smiled impishly. “So when do we start?”
He chuckled again and scratched his bicep absently, his stare returning to the laptop screen. “I’m glad you’re motivated. Unfortunately, there’s no one-size-fits-all for getting healthier, so now comes a long and tedious interview. I have approximately sixty questions for you, not counting follow-ups, that will help me map out your diet history, likes, dislikes, and preferences on exercise. Because I don’t think you want to go on my diet or something created for a former athlete or someone who’s allergic to gluten. This has to fit you.”
Oh, he made my heart happy.
“Is there a diet for chocolate lovers?”
“Do you want to get pregnant?” he shot back with a smirk.
Damn.
I waved a hand. “Proceed with your questionnaire, Coach.”
Maybe this would actually work.
I came back to my apartment an hour later, overwhelmed but hopeful. Laurie had been right so far. Ethan Quinn seemed like the perfect PT for me. He’d given me tons of pamphlets but not without going through them. He wasn’t the type who just said, no, this wouldn’t work; he explained why.
I liked that.
It was only the first day, and I already felt like I was getting my money’s worth. After all, the monthly cost wasn’t pocket change—but I would get a lot of one-on-one time in exchange. Starting tomorrow. Ethan was coming with me to buy groceries and put together a meal plan.
On average, I’d get about ten minutes with him every day, via text, and then two workout sessions each week. I’d settled for Mondays and Fridays to surround my weekend with someone who could tell me no.
That’d been one of his questions, if I had a husband or partner or other family member around to help me, and I had confirmed I was on my own.
My homework till tomorrow was to throw out all sugar, which I’d already done.
It was a sad day.
After dumping all the pamphlets on my kitchen counter, I went to grab my laptop and—
Crap. My phone rang. I checked the number, only to see Gray’s name on the display, and that made everything great again.
“Hey, you!” I answered.
“Hey! If it isn’t my favorite aunt in the whole world.”
I laughed and continued into my office. “Okay, what do you want?”
He chuckled, and it sounded forced. “I’m really sorry to call about this, but is there any chance you could pick up Justin from day care? They just called, and he’s got a fever—”
“Say no more—of course I’ll pick him up.” I changed direction and headed for the hallway. “Do you want me to watch him till you get off work?”
He worked with Chloe at the inn when he wasn’t studying field medicine for SAR missions, of all things.
“Thank you,” Gray replied, the relief evident. “No need to watch him, just drive him over to the inn. He gets fussy when he’s sick, so I don’t think he’ll accept anyone’s company but mine and Dare’s.”
That made sense. Chloe had told me the boy was sensitive to certain things—and that he might be autistic or something like that. They’d decided he was too young to go through a screening.
“No problem,” I said, grabbing my car keys. “Let the day care know I’m on my way.”
“I owe you, Aunt Nat. Thank you!”
Heck, this was one of the reasons I’d moved here. I wanted to be closer to family.
“Do I pick up a car seat at the inn or at Darius’s restaurant?” I asked.
“Oh no, he has one at day care,” Gray said. “He’s got two grandmothers with sticky fingers, so we’re always prepared.”
I grinned, and I heard Chloe defending her innocent baby-snatchings in the background.
My rescue operation was uneventful and successful, and less than forty minutes later, I pulled into the guest parking outside the inn with a sniffling four-year-old. This place was freaking gorgeous. A large, three-story Victorian with a wraparound porch and perfectly maintained flower beds and fruit trees. The house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac and had nothing but tree-covered mountains as a backdrop.
“We’re here, sweetie. You ready to see Daddy Gray and Nana?” I got out of the car and opened the back to let Justin out.
He was nonverbal when he was alone with me, but he was evidently comfortable enough around me to extend his arms, a silent request for me to carry him. And that was how he made my day. Sweet darling. No wonder Chloe couldn’t stop gushing about the boys.