Dad Bod (Under Construction 1)
Before he can reply, Laney interjects, “Actually, I bet that you would fold.”
I grasp my heart in mock offense.
“Laney, I thought you believed in me? Supported me? Such betrayal!”
“Well, Mad, I do believe in you, but I also know Jordan well enough to know that you’d turn tail and run scared as soon as you met her. She’s good at what she does, tough as nails on her trainees. But I can promise she’ll get you the results you need.”
“But she’s—”
“A beautiful woman who can sling some iron?”
“Well, there’s that…” I trail off, scrubbing the back of my neck.
Carter cackles. “She broke wood too, didn’t she, Mad?”
Laney’s mouth drops, and she slaps at Carter’s chest. “I’ll show your ass break wood. Have some damn respect or it’ll be your wood that gets splintered.”
“See, this is why the hell I don’t need a female trainer! Thank fuck I wasn’t wearing gym shorts, or she’d think I’m a damn pervert.”
“Well, that’s arguable,” Laney tosses at me.
“Lan, no offense, but have you seen her? I mean, think with a dick for just a minute.”
“I’d hit it, Mad. I don’t need to think with a dick.” Laney shrugs, as if this is casual talk.
“That’s my girl,” Carter says with pride then adjusts himself.
“You are a perv, honey, but damn if I don’t love ya.” Laney leans over and kisses him on the cheek to which he responds by licking up her neck and cheek.
“Okay, get a fuckin’ room already. My daughter doesn’t need to see you dry humping each other at the dinner table.”
“Why the hell not? It’s not as if there’s any food out,” Carter rebuts on a laugh.
“You two sit here and talk your filth. I’m going to bring the food out for the grill.”
Laney makes it to the French doors, far out of reach before I reply with, “It’s about damn time, woman. If I’d known I’d be the subject of your abuse, I’d have taken Belle home for dinner. Move your ass. My girl is hungry, and I ain’t got all day.”
“You talk an awfully big game for a man scared of a little fitness trainer,” she cackles as she heads inside.
*~*
“Well, look who learned what the proper gym attire is. Did you dress yourself, or did you have a helping hand?”
Let me tell you what sucks worse than having to eat crow—eating crow in gym shorts with a hard-on.
Yes, my sorry ass came crawling back to Dumb Belles in hopes that I can reason with Jordan, who is currently standing before me probably waiting for me to grovel at her feet. I mean, she’s got a valid point. That damn sassy mouth makes me weak in the knees, but a sharp kick to my nut-sack from that bastard reality reminds me that I’m her client. I’m out of her league, and my goal is to get on her level.
Damn, I hope it’s as easy as it sounds.
“I owe you an apology. I’m not typically a dick, but to be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to be a chick.” Wait… That sounds shitty. She looks at me as if her nerves are slipping, so I quickly recover with, “Actually, that is a piss poor apology. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about your gender based on your name alone. I hired you to be my trainer because you’re the highest-recommended trainer here, and I immediately had confidence in your ability to get me in shape.”
“I appreciate the apology, Mr. Davenport—”
“Madden.”
She blushes and replies, “Madden. It takes guts to apologize when you’re in the wrong, and I’m certainly not a lady who hides from my faults, so I owe you an apology as well.”