by Silla Webb
“Come on, Davenport.” I call him by his last name because it’s what one of the guys would do. “Heard you wouldn’t.”
I learned very early on that Madden Davenport can’t back down from a challenge.
“Okay, when I lose forty pounds I will go out on a date.”
Might as well lay it all out there while I have him in his challenged mindset. “And for your final milestone—at sixty pounds lost, you go after the girl. The girl you are going to have to eventually tell me about.” I smirk at him, my eyes full of challenge. Before he can rebuff my plan, I quickly stand, pop my hip, and nod toward the door that leads out into the gym, telling him with my actions that it’s time to get to work.
Rising from his seat, he walks past me toward the door. “It’s like that, huh?”
“Yep,” I sass, popping the p. “Just like that.”
CHAPTER FIVE
MADDEN
“You’re runnin’”—inhale—“my ass like”—I inhale and grab my side as my feet pound against the treadmill—“we just stol—”
“Davenport, you’re provin’ Carter right with that attitude,” Jordan chides. Fuckin’ hell. I pull in a huge breath and grit my teeth, baring down as I push myself harder through the last half mile and finish strong.
When the mileage on the treadmill hits two miles, Jordan decreases the speed allowing me to try to catch my breath.
“You’re not having any chest pain, right?”
“I’m fine, Jordan,” I pant.
“Don’t dismiss me, Madden. Your heart rate is a little high, but that isn’t unusual. It’s my job to be concerned for your health, and until I become fully acquainted with your patterns, I’ll have these questions.” I roll my eyes and continue to slow my pace. “You’re not dying in my gym, Davenport!”
“You’re cute when you’re being a hard ass, but the dramatic side is a bit extra.”
“Did you really just call me extra and cute in the same sentence?”
“What can I say, I’m an honest and outspoken man, Jordan.”
She side-eyes me as she stops the treadmill then hands me a towel.
“Let’s cool down, and we’ll discuss your new diet.”
“My wha—”
“You want to get healthy, right?” She cuts me off.
“Obviously.”
“Then you have to make several changes to see the full effect of your weight loss,” she tells me as we walk slow laps around the track. “You can’t expect to exercise and eat like crap and see results. Did your doctor give you dietary instructions?”
“I thought those were just suggestions,” I scoff.
Jordan laughs. “Yes, he suggests you eat healthier before the fried chicken and grits kills ya.”
“Fried chicken ain’t been charged with murder yet, now.”
“Maybe not, but you’re killing yourself with all the saturated fats, sodium, and carbohydrates. And my guess is your daughter eats the same foods you eat, so you need to make this lifestyle change for the family, not just yourself.”
“Okay, killer. Baby steps. Let me adapt to this shit before I have to force it on Belle. I don’t want to interrupt her life anymore than necessary.” I don’t consider the weight of my words until they’re already out there, but Jordan doesn’t pry or push the topic.
“Baby steps are fine, but there are some hard limits.” She pulls her phone from the armband and pulls up an app, typing as we continue to walk. “I’ve just sent you an email with your login credentials to Dumb Belle’s fitness app. Download the app to your phone; your client profile and milestones have already been set. Part of my process is monitoring your diet in addition to your workouts. I’ll teach you to make the better choices with your meals, and we can discuss those choices during your training sessions.”
“So you follow me … through this app?”
“Yes, I’m actually the app developer. It’s helpful as a trainer to see what your macros are with each meal, because then I can align your workouts to get the best results.”
“Damn, this is far more involved than when I just hit the machines a few times a week.”
“It can be overwhelming, Madden, but you’ll be eager to work harder once you start to see results. The first couple of weeks are the hardest.”
“I can do it. It's just … it's a lot to take on all at once, ya know.”
“Because you’re individualizing each hurdle in front of you rather than keeping focus on your overall health. Simplify. Our goal is for you to lose sixty pounds. We know the end game and the necessary steps to get there. Once you adapt to the routine and everything becomes habit, everything else falls into place. And I think you'll be surprised at how fast the weight will fall off if you follow the training and your diet.”
By the time we finish the cool down, Jordan has schooled me on the importance of macros and calorie counting. My fuckin’ head is spinning with all the information.
“So we covered a lot today. Cardio and diet. Tomorrow is core day, so make sure you soak in an Epsom salt bath tonight, get plenty of sleep, and eat healthy! You’re gonna need your energy for tomorrow.”
Today was brutal, and I know tomorrow is gonna prove to be more difficult.
“Thanks, Jordan. I guess I'd better hit the grocery store because my fridge has beers, Cocoa Puffs, and pizza that's lifespan is questionable.
“Toss it.”
“The pizza?”
“Everything. But uhm, why do you still have the pizza?”
“Because Belle wants to prank Carter and Mav, and who am I to deny my darlin’ princess an opportunity to trick those assholes?”
“Madden, that could make them sick!”
“Noooooo.”
“Go home, clean out your fridge and pantry, then go to the grocery store and buy everything on your meal prep list for the week. Don’t make me come do it, because I will. That’s how serious I am about improving your health.”
“Hey, pretty lady. Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I waggle my brows at her playfully, which earns me a mock eyeroll and blushed cheeks.
“Stooopppp!”
“I’m serious. I hate cleaning and grocery shopping, so having a hot babe do it for me, in spandex … well, that’s every man’s—”
“I swear my hand to God, may he strike you dead, your ass will run five miles tomorrow if you finish that sentence,” she scolds, her hand palm up like she’s testifying to God himself. Hell, she may be. Is that lightnin’ in the distance?
“I kid. Your bitch camp is hard enough without any added mileage, so I’ll walk the line.” I wink at her.
She rolls her eyes again, leading me to the lobby. “Alright, Johnny, you walk the line right on to Publix. I’ll see you tomorrow, same time, same place.”
*~*
“Cupcakes!!!” Belle shrills as she charges down the aisle toward the cupcake display. I keep one eye on her while glancing at the shelf intermittently in search of quinoa.
“Look what I got, Daddy! They have rainbow frosting! My favorite!” she praises, a half dozen cupcakes cradled under each arm.
“Sorry, princess, but no sugar.”
She quirks her brow and cautiously places each container in the buggy, careful not to tip the carton sideways so the frosting doesn’t smudge. “This ain’t sugar, Daddy. It’s cupcakes! Our favorite.” She places her hands on her hips and taps her toe against the floor. Our diets are about to make a drastic change, and Belle ain’t gonna like it.
“Sorry, kiddo. We’ll find a healthy snack, but we can’t have cupcakes. Not until Daddy loses some weight.” I place the cupcakes on the shelf, the scent of chocolate and buttercream frosting teasing my senses.
“Says who!” she demands, her brows furrowed and her little hands balled into fists at her hips.
“Jordan, my fitness trainer. You want Daddy to be able to chase you in the backyard and place with you at the beach, right?” She nods. “Then Daddy has to lose weight. And in order to lose weight, I have
to eat healthier.”
“So I can still have cupcakes?” She grabs the container from the shelf and holds it protectively to her chest.
“We’re doing this together, Belle. I want you to be healthy too.”
“B-but, b-but, Daddy. Cupcakes make me happy. And I can’t be healthy if I’m not happy,” she argues as I wrestle the cupcakes from her grip and place them on a higher shelf.
“Here, help Daddy find this quinoa.”
“How am I supposed to do that? I don’t know what it is!” She has a point. I don’t even know what the hell it is.
“Then stand still and be patient please, and I’ll find you a treat before we leave.” I turn and crouch in front of the shelf, scanning the label of every product. I look up and around me to find Belle dancing about, swinging on the buggy.
“Belle, please, can you stand still while I search for whatever in the fu— fudge quinoa is.”
“Daddy, you better watch your mouth. You’ll owe me five dollas!” Belle chides as she comes to a halt from running circles around the buggy.
I left the gym with a renewed confidence. Today’s workout was refreshing, and Jordan has every aspect of this new lifestyle change planned out to a T. Or so it seems. I picked Belle up from Carter and Laney’s and hurried over to Publix to grab groceries from the shopping list Jordan suggested. She’s really got everything covered, and I couldn’t be more relieved. I’ll clean the fridge out after we get home. If we get there.
Currently, I’m standing in the organic food aisle, Belle running circles around the buggy and belting out the lyrics to some annoying song by JoJo Siwa.
I look to the Heavens for help, but I doubt there will be any.
“Did Carter jack you up on Mountain Dew and Reese’s cups or something?”
“Nope,” she pants, twirling down the aisle. “Red Bull and chocolate cake.”
I’ll kill him.
I turn my attention back to the shopping list on my phone then scan the shelf again for quinoa. What in the ever-lovin’ fuck is quinoa? I’ve managed to find raw baby carrots and fresh broccoli, only because a damn idiot would overlook the produce department, but most of the ingredients on this list are completely new to me. I scrub my hand over my face and inhale a deep breath, when I hear a ruckus crashing to the floor and a shriek of surprise. I turn my attention down the aisle to see Belle standing with her hands covering her face.
I look to the Heavens again and beg, “So, Big Guy, you remember that lightnin’ strike, right?” It’s a pathetic plea, but this grocery shopping business is beyond overwhelming.
I walk down the aisle, sliding my phone in my back pocket along the way, and begin picking up the overturned display of bakery fresh cupcakes. Fuck. I’m gonna need some willpower to make it out of this store alive.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I wasn’t paying attention. Please don’t be mad.” Belle’s lip quivers, and tears fall over her long lashes.
I pick her up and kiss the top of her head. “It’s okay, kiddo.”
I ignore the scrutinizing looks of shoppers and head back to my buggy, considering leaving it where it sits and ordering pizza for dinner. I pull my phone from my pocket when I hear a ding, alerting me of a notification.
>>Jordan: How did the shopping go?
I groan loud and pull my hat off, swiping the sweat from my forehead. She’s gonna be pissed at me if I give up this quickly.
>>Madden:
I slide my phone in my pocket then push the buggy to the side of the aisle and take Belle by the hand, just as my phone rings. Jordan calling flashes across the screen, but I click end call and shove my phone in my pocket again. The phone rings again, but I try to ignore it, until Belle squalls, “Answer your phone, Daddy! Don’t be ruuuuudddee.” Damn, she is solid trying my patience tonight.
I pull my phone from my pocket and answer with a gruff, “WHAT?” without thinking.
“Wooooaaahhh. Take a deep breath before your blood pressure gets the best of you.”
“Sorry, Jordan. It’s been a stressful trip to the store.”
“So you’re still there?”
“Currently trying to make it out alive.”
“Which one? I’ll meet you.”
“Wait, what?”
“You need guidance. Where are you, and I’ll come help. I’m just leaving the gym,” she tells me, and I hear the distinct hum of a motor revving in the background.
“Publix on Butler and 8th.”
“Sit tight. I’ll be there in ten.”
Without so much as a goodbye, the call drops.
This is awkward. I turn back to the aisle to retrieve my buggy, Belle lost in her own universe of song and dance every step of the way. “Kid, can you chill for five minutes please?” I ask, grabbing the buggy and wandering aimlessly through the store.
“I thought we were going home!” Belle whines.
“Not yet, kid. We gotta tough this out together.”
“Uuuggghh, why?”
Here we go—twenty questions.
“Because my friend is gonna come help us shop. She’ll be here
in a few minutes. Wanna play I Spy?”
She flips her thumb down and shakes her head.
Just as we cut down an aisle, I hear my name called out, “Madden!” I turn back at the sound of Jordan’s voice. Thank fuck. Maybe we can get this shit done.
“Hey, Jordan.”
“Who are you?” Belle asks.
Jordan crouches down at Belle’s level and introduces herself. “You must be Belle. I’m Jordan, your daddy’s fitness trainer. You’re a very pr—”
“Fitness trainer? What the… You’re the lady who said I can’t have cupcakes?” Belle demands, stomping her foot.
Jordan looks from Belle to me then back at Belle. “Well … I…” Belle huffs and rolls her eyes. Jordan stands and turns toward me, her expression troubled. “Fed me to the wolves, I see.” She laughs and peers into the buggy. “You’re kidding me, Madden. How long have you been here?”
“FOREEEEEEVVVVVVEEEEERRR,” Belle groans. “And I’m hungry!”
Jordan tweaks her nose and says, “Then let’s get down to it, sass. Hop onto the buggy and hold on tight. We’ll make this fun.” Jordan turns to me and whispers, “Sometimes you have to work out when you can while compromising with the kid. Consider this extra cardio.” She winks as she pulls her phone from her back pocket. She pulls up the app and scrolls through her lists of clients until she finds my name. “Okay, crew. To aisle five!”
CHAPTER SIX
JORDAN
How in the hell did I end up here?
Why am I here?
I take all of my clients’ health seriously, but shopping with them? This is new to me. The look on Madden’s face when I advised him to go to the grocery and basically start over with the filling of his refrigerator lingered in my mind long after he left the gym. He looked like I knocked him down after he had just gotten up. I couldn’t get the defeated look out of my mind, which is why I wanted to check on him; at least that is what I keep telling myself.
The sound of his voice, combined with the image I seared into my brain had me on autopilot. When I found them in Publix, the sight was comical. Here stood this large man being led around by the nose by this tiny little fireball.
As we race her around the store, going from aisle to aisle doing our best version of a NASCAR racer, grabbing all the necessary items, it isn’t long before we return to the scene of the crime to grab the quinoa. Just as the cupcakes come into the peripheral vision of the sassy five-year-old, her bottom lip juts out. Lord have mercy, he is going to have his hands full with this one.
“Wasn’t that fun Belle?” I ask, trying to distract her.
Without skipping a beat she says, “Would have been a lot funner with cupcakes.” Cue turning to her dad and batting her eyelashes. Jesus, I love this kid already. She’s me at five.
“Belly”—Madden somewhat scolds her as we make our way to the checkout— “you’re bein
g rude to Jordan, while she’s only trying to help Daddy.”
“Sorry,” he mutters to me with a tint of red on his cheeks. I wave my hand as if it’s no big deal and laugh.
“She may be my new best friend. I love her spunk.”
Madden chuckles lightly as he sets her down from the cart, kissing her on the forehead. Ovaries, girls, please slow down, I preach mentally, because let’s be honest—there is nothing hotter than a man lovin’ up on his baby girl. Her little voice interrupts my thoughts as Madden adds the groceries to the conveyor belt.
Standing there with her little palm held up, she asks, “’Scuse me, can I puhlease have a quarter for a gumball?” Her eyes jet to me. “Or is that bad for me too, healthy lady?”
Yep, that’s it for me; this little girl has won me over. I just want to hang out with her.
“Bell-”
“Here you go.” I squat and lay two quarters I fished from my crossbody purse into her little palm, cutting off what I’m sure was going to be a scolding from her daddy. “Do you mind getting me a gumball too?”
“I ’pose,” she says, trotting off to the large gumball machine twenty-five feet away.
“Madden, is that you?” The question comes from the register over, and I recognize the voice immediately. Stalk much, Gia? Did she follow me here from the gym? I’m caught up in my internal tongue lashing of her that at first I don’t notice Madden’s demeanor has completely changed. What the fuck? Is that, is he … blushing?
“Ummmm h-hiii, Gia,” he mumbles like a freaking twelve-year-old pubescent boy. “It’s me.”
Well, no duh it’s you, jerk face. Seriously, fuckity fuck my life; she’s the story for another day. He’s so wrapped up in his conversation with Gia that he doesn’t notice me step away.
Taking the gumball from Belle, I wink at her and say, “You and me, cupcake date next week?”
“Healthy lady, I think you and I can make this work.” Watching her walk back to her dad’s side, I shake my head and think—she’s great.
*~*
