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)
“Yes, ma’am. We’re goin’ this way.” He nodded at the closest trail, its sign indicating it was five miles long. “We’ll walk for twenty minutes, and then we’ll head back.”
Oof, okay. So, forty minutes. I was going to need a shower when I got home.
The first few minutes were spent in comfortable silence, which was a shame. Because for as much as I didn’t mind soaking up the nature around me, I’d soon be too out of breath to speak. And he tended to have questions sooner rather than later.
The trail actually did have a handrail, though that disappeared five minutes in. After that, we had blue spots to go by. They were painted on the trees.
The trail was narrow, so he walked behind me.
Was that on purpose? Was he thinking that the pace I’d set was too slow?
“So, how do you think your first week has gone?” he asked.
My breathing was already picking up, dammit. “Um, good. Yeah. I’ve made progress, which is what I’m focusing on.” I threw him a cheeky smile over my shoulder, and he smiled back.
“That’s the spirit.”
But I had to be honest—as always. “It’s a little weird not to have weigh-ins, though,” I said. “In the past when I’ve tried to get into shape, Friday’s been the day I check my results.”
He hummed. “We can do that if you want, but I generally don’t recommend it for clients who’re trying to lose weight.”
As he’d told me. “Because we get stuck on digits,” I stated.
“Exactly. And especially you—your mood can tank easily at the slightest misstep.”
He had a big ol’ point.
“The results will show soon,” he promised. “You’ll notice it when you put on a shirt that’s suddenly too big. You’ll feel it when you exercise. You’ll notice your energy levels spiking.”
Big, big, big ol’ point.
I couldn’t wait.
One day, I was going to put on my black leather jacket—and those jeans—and they’d fit.
But that day wasn’t today. My heart started pounding way too fast for my liking, and Ethan picked that moment to ask how I was enjoying the Pacific Northwest so far.
“Big change from New York, huh?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed dryly and uncapped my water bottle. “Yeah, I like it.” I chugged quickly and tried not to slow down. “I love being out like this. Fewer cars honking and zero stone-faced New Yorkers.” Also, sadly, no Chinese food delivery in the middle of the night.
“Fewer people, in general,” Ethan chuckled. “I’m guessing it’s easier to make friends and get into the dating scene in a major city.”
True enough, but I was here for my family.
“I haven’t downloaded the dating apps yet. I dread the day.” I puffed out a heavy breath and pushed up the sleeves of my hoodie. “What’s it like dating in Camassia Cove?”
“Fuckin’ terrible,” he muttered. “Half the women are divorced and have a few kids already.”
Yeah, sure. I could see that. We’d reached that age. I preferred men a little older than me, and it was the same story. Most were divorced and had already done the kid thing.
“And what are the other half?” I asked, out of breath.
“Canadian.”
I cracked up and had to stop. God! He couldn’t make me laugh when I was struggling to regulate my breathing, dammit! But that was too funny. I guessed we were close enough to the border for that to be an issue, yes. Hell, Vancouver was closer than Seattle.
Ethan peered down at me, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Time for a break, I take it?”
“That’s your fault,” I laughed breathlessly. I planted a hand on my chest. “I need to calm down. Fuck.” My heart was threatening to escape my chest at this point, and my lower back hurt like a bitch. It was the same sharp stabs every time. “Okay, so that’s what I have to look forward to. Canadians and divorced men with custody arrangements. I think I’ll pass for a while longer.”
Ethan tilted his head. “You’re not into women?”
What? Even though I was literally the only person nearby, I had to ask. “Who, me?”
He furrowed his brow and nodded once. “Yeah, I thought… Never mind.”
No, no, I wanted to hear this. “You thought what?” I pressed. “Do I have, like, a lesbian vibe or somethin’?”
I wasn’t offended or anything, just curious and more than a little baffled. Other than the one time a woman had hit on me—legit, I’d lived on that flattery for a good six months—I’d never been mistaken for a lesbian before.
Ethan squinted and rubbed the back of his neck. “No matter how I phrase this, I’ll sound like an idiot, so I’d rather keep my mouth shut.”
Now I was even more intrigued. How bad could it be?
“Don’t worry, I won’t make a Facebook post about my PT clocking clients as lesbians,” I joked.
He exhaled a huff and smirked ruefully. “Fine. Honestly? I’m used to female clients hitting on me, and when you didn’t, I…”