Page 4 of Blurry Little Lines

“You might be onto something.” I smirk, though I’m still not in my satisfactory tip-top shape yet. Not that anyone will be seeing my body in my new future attire.

“I’m going to put an online order together for you.” Lauren smiles proudly. “And if Max happens to stop by on your lunch break, you’ll wow him with your skimpy lace garments.”

“He’s just afriend, Ren.” I’m ready to kick her out of my office.

“I know there is chemistry between you. I saw the way he looked at you the first day I met you guys.” She carries on. “Plus, the way he held you when Mallory locked herself in her room and I talked her out of it? Yeah, that man was protective as hell over you.” I go to open my mouth, but she holds a finger up. “You’re telling me there has never been a moment over the years when you two almost acted on feelings?” She raises an eyebrow.

“I met Benson freshman year of university.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Her smirk grows as I look off to the side and open a vaulted memory.

“Maybe once. Also freshman year.” I cringe, but don’t want to get into this. “I thought there was a moment, but I read it wrong. Plus, Adam would kill Max if he made a bold move on me.”

“Doubt it.”

“I’m not his type anyway.” I’ve taken note of histypethrough the years.

“Ugh, you two have the longest, secret, drawn-out foreplay.” Lauren smiles. “He is totally into you, Kels.”

“I’m done talking about us.” Hitting the button on my computer screen, I watch it come back to life. “Max and I will never be together.” But through my divorce, he’s been more than I could ask for. My kids have leaned on him for stability as well.

“Fine, get back to work. I’ll send over the lingerie order later.” She heads out, and I spend the rest of the day going through emails and my latest project.

Chapter 2

Max

“Brilliantworktoday,Alice.”I smile as my client finishes her last arm rep.

The clank of the weights mutes through the rubbered floor as a sigh of relief leaves her mouth. The middle-aged redhead rests her hands on her knees, boldly staring at my junk. I internally cringe as her eyes eventually make their way up to mine with a mischievous grin across her slightly aged face. She’s attractive for pushing fifty, and fit too. I didn’t pursue becoming a personal trainer at my parents’ gym to nail the clients, though. Given my manwhore reputation growing up in this gym, I’m sure that’s why the majority of women have requested me. But that’s no longer who I am.

“I’ll see you in three days, pretty boy.” She winks and adjusts her sports bra. I keep my eyes locked on her face. “Let me know if you need to see me sooner.”

Who I was a few years ago would have damn well taken advantage of sleeping around. Besides fitness, it was how I released my sense of frustration and control. Making sure I could satisfy any woman to be the best they ever had. I haven’t gone years without sex, but I’ve definitely grown pickier with who I bring to bed. I’ve developed the need to prove to myself how I am a different breed than my mother and father.

“I’ll see you in three days. Enjoy your evening.” I end our session by placing the weights on the rack. These days, I find myself questioning what type of man I want to be. I’m proud to mature as I enter into my thirties.

“Oh, you bet your pretty ass I will.” She glances at someone behind me with a flirty wave before taking off down the hallway.

I turn around to meet my playboy father, who’s sporting his trademark half smirk and sparkling eyes. His look confirms everything I need to know about my client and my father. I shamelessly cringe. I gave up trying to turn a blind eye years ago. He places a hand on my shoulder with an approving nod.

“You’re killin’ it with your client list, son. You should really take advantage of the perks of being a desired personal trainer.” He winks.

“Nah, ruining relationships is your specialty.” And sleeping with paying clients feels immoral. I can’t afford to be damned into a higher sin bracket. I’m still new to personal training and want to gain reputable references—ones that don’t require how quickly I can make a client come.

“Your mother wasn’t as innocent back in the day as she claims to be.” I have heard this all before. The same oldwho cheated whoand how their agreement to become swingers caused their divorce. And my mother’s most overused reason; my existence.

“I’m meeting Adam soon to watch the fight.” I redirect the conversation and hope it’s enough for him to back off and let me leave.

“I’m proud you joined me full time here, son. I was worried you’d stick to bartending part time the rest of your life.

“Goodnight, Dad.” In all honesty, I miss bartending the late nights at the Wheaton’s Hotel. My best friend’s family owns the chain of luxury hotels. But the hours were conflicting with my fitness classes, and I was becoming burnt out from helping my other best friend and her children. Kelsie needs me more than I need to socialize with Adam at the bar. Or satiate my manly needs with a woman in the break room of the hotel lounge.

After a quick shower, I walk through the Wheaton’s hotel lobby and smile at the staff I grew up getting to know. Adam and I have been like brothers since kindergarten, and Kelsie is barely a year older–which she never let us forget. Adam’s elevator code to his penthouse has been embedded in my mind since the day his parents assigned the place to him. With a case of our favorite beer in hand, I step into the landing and quickly debate if I should knock on Kelsie’s door instead. She’s had a busy week and I haven’t checked in with her. The landing between the two penthouse doors seems quiet, so I ignore my need to check on Kelsie and walk into Adam’s. Tonight, beer, a fight, and Adam are just what I need to unwind from this week’s chaos.

Piano notes filter through the marble-floored penthouse as I round the entryway and watch as he turns a shitty pop song into a slow, beautiful piano piece. I enjoyed listening to him in the late nights when he’d play at the lounge bar piano. The wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking San Francisco at night is breathtaking.

“Max.” Adam stands and closes the piano lid. A new addition he added after returning from his extended business in Aspen. “Man, I missed you, bro. I feel like I haven’t seen you the past couple of months.”

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