Page 17 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

“I’ll be fine, but thanks.”

She turned away, drawing out her phone to put on a playlist, which meant my job here was done. There were a million other things that needed doing around the gym, but I couldn’t remember one of them.You’re gonna freak Katie out, staring at her like that, a little voice told me and I was right. If she was already feeling weirded out, I couldn’t let myself make it worse, so I turned and walked back to the counter.

“That looked like it went well,” Drew said. “Though you’ve both still got your clothes on.”

“Shut up.”

I didn’t say that with any heat, settling back against the counter.

“Or maybe that’s the problem,” he said with a grin. “Maybe you should work off some of that barely repressed sexual energy hauling some cartons of drinks out here. The fridge needs restocking.”

I mumbled some insult in his direction, but went and did as I was told. That was how it worked around here. Drew was the brains and me? I lifted heavy things.

He was right, though. Once I’d carried out several armloads of drink cartons, some of the frantic energy in me started to settle. I was feeling calmer, more centred.

Right up until the point I saw him.

“Uh oh…” Drew hissed as we both watched Steve amble over and then point at his ear. Katie kept on powering on, ignoring him completely, until he moved into her line of sight.

“That prick…”

I hated the guy with a passion and wanted to rescind his membership but Drew always said no. There wouldn’t be an argument this time. The arsehole loved to glom onto clients, particularly women, tearing them down subtly, right before offering his nutritional and training routines for the tidy sum of $54.99.

“You better go and rescue your girl,” Drew said, but I was already striding across the floor.

Chapter9

Katie

I thought this kind of shit only happened in videos, but apparently there were gym arseholes in the wild as well.

I was in the zone, my feet moving, my arms pumping as I walked up what was the equivalent of a steep hill. Runner, I might not be, but walker? I took the dogs out for hours at the shelter, so I always smashed my steps goals.

Thenheappeared.

You know when you get that weird, prickling feeling on the back of your neck? Like someone is staring at you, forcing you to turn around. I dismissed that thought, because who the hell would be staring at me on the treadmill?

Him, apparently.

Tall, good looking, and wearing a thin tank top that was spotted with sweat, he smiled when he came into my field of vision and then pointed to my headphones. For a moment, I felt a jolt of horror. I was listening to one of those smut audio files on Quinn, and right as the raspy voiced narrator was telling her/me what a good girl I was being, taking all of him, a gym bro appeared. That easy smile, initially I thought it was a knowing one and that he was hearing everything I was listening to, but when I stopped the track and pulled my AirPod out, it was far worse.

He had interrupted my workout to give me some unsolicited advice.

This was my worst nightmare. It was literally why I wanted to come here with my sister. Her resting bitch face would force douche canoes like this to back the fuck up. Instead, he smiled and came forward.

“Hey, I’m Steve.” I just stared as he offered me his hand, self-consciously wiping it on his shorts when I didn’t respond. “I saw you working out, and I thought you might need some advice.”

I’m not sure if other plus size women felt like this, but there was nothing on God’s green earth that I wanted less. Complete strangers felt the need to tell me I had a pretty face, but I’d look beautiful if I lost weight. Others inspected my shopping trolley like they were drug-sniffing dogs, looking for a few cheeky lines of cocaine, and still others looked at my meals and asked, “Are you going to eat all of that?” Being fat and in public seemed like a red flag to way too many people. I punched the stop button on the treadmill, which was my first wrong choice, and stood still on the conveyor belt.

“So if you’re looking to slim down?—”

How the hell was this happening again? Moments before, I was in the zone, feeling strong, powerful with every step I took on the treadmill. I wanted to listen to my horny stories, not dickheads like this.

But when did what I wanted matter?

Right then, I saw my ex’s facial features superimposed over Steve’s. Same cocky air, same arrogance that made him think he had a right to tell me what he thought. My hands wrapped around the handrails of the treadmill and I sucked in one breath, then another, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. How dare he interrupt me? How dare this Steve come and insert himself into my space? Why the hell did he look at me and just see a problem that needed fixing? And why did the world think the exact same thing? If I was exercising, it must be because I was finally, finally, taking myself in hand and resolving the issue of my size. My throat worked, not to suck in a breath, but to try and find the words to tell him to piss all the way off, when I was cut off by another masculine voice.

“And why would she do that?” Rhys was all cute Golden Retriever when he met me at the door, but now he was a German Shepherd. He prowled forward, then came to stand between me and Steve, arms crossed. Those biceps were popping, something that made even Steve go pale. “When Katie is perfect the way she is.”

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