Page 43 of Own the Eights
“How’s that going? I haven’t checked CityBeat yet today,” Becca said, pulling her phone from her pocket.
The truth was, so far, it wasn’t going well, at least, for her. Just as she’d thought, the Dannies’ post about reuniting childhood sweethearts in the frozen pizza aisle had earned them a tsunami of likes. Jordan’s post about the health benefits of honey and using it to meet a like-minded ten hadn’t done great, but it had garnered more likes than her blog about vegetables bringing eights together.
“The Dannies are in the lead with Jordan in second place and me in third,” she answered. She checked the score every time nobody was looking.
“That was pretty cool how Daniel and Danielle just sensed those two people were meant to be together,” Becca said, glancing at her phone. “And they just posted that the couple told them that when they decided to have kids, they’d name the baby after them.”
Georgie straightened a row of books. “Did they post a picture of the happy couple?”
Becca stared at her phone. “Nope, it’s just an article with a picture of a grocery store. But I’m not sure which market they went to. I don’t recognize this shop.”
Something seemed off. What are the chances of reuniting two lost lovers in under two hours? But Georgie shrugged off her skepticism. Harboring jealousy over the Dannies’ amazing post wouldn’t help her get ahead.
“What’s on the schedule today? Any more accidental fucking?” Irene asked with a teasing glint in her eyes.
Georgie crossed her arms. She kind of accidentally sort of shouldn’t have told her friends anything about her Kama Sutra antics. She mustered up the most neutral expression she could.
“Jordan’s going to teach me how to run.”
“You, the queen of meandering walks, is going to run?” Becca asked with a frown.
“A 10K race is the final event, and Jordan, the super trainer, is hellbent on me running in it. The past two days, he’s sent me detailed workouts to help get my body into shape,” she replied.
“Have you done them?” came a man’s deep, rumbling voice.
The women shrieked and looked toward the door and found none other than the super trainer himself.
“Are you a spy or something? I didn’t even hear you come in!” Georgie exclaimed, her pulse racing.
Jordan glanced around. “It’s a bookshop. Aren’t people supposed to come in?”
“Yeah, but most say hello,” she shot back.
He gave her that damn toe-curlingly hot shit-eating grin. “Hello.”
“Hello,” she barked. She wasn’t a barker, but just the sight of him made her want to rip off his clothes and try the next Kama Sutra position.
The trifecta held up their water cannon, and she derailed the hot and bothered train of thought.
“Did you do those conditioning runs I sent you?”
“Hell no! But I took a meandering walk,” she answered.
Jordan sauntered toward the counter and clucked his tongue. “That’s too bad. It’s going to make today a lot harder for you.” He turned to the Murphy sisters. “Hi there. I’m Jordan.”
Crap! She’d forgotten her manners. Now it was her trifecta clucking their tongues at her.
“Irene and Becca, this is Jordan Marks. He works at that gym down the block.”
They said their hellos, then Jordan took a step back and stared at Irene. “Have you been to Deacon CrossFit? You look familiar.”
“There’s no way—” Georgie began when Irene cut her off.
“Yes, you have a good memory. I dropped my husband off at the gym the other day. He’s working with one of the trainers.”
Jordan nodded. “Which one?”
“Sara,” Irene replied.
