Uncovering Love

by Kacey Shea

  I wasn’t pushy enough, though, so by the time I entered there were very few bikes left. I looked around in a panic and saw Kate had taken up a bike near the back of the room with no available seats left near her. She gave an apologetic shrug and called out a very loud “ka-caw, ka-caw!” with a smile which I realized was her attempt at a bird noise and reminder of our code word. Did flamingos even ka-caw? I grinned and shook my head at her.

  Looking around, I realized the only open bike was located in the front row. I hurried over, worried that if I procrastinated much longer I may not be able to take the class. Tate had one arm stretched across his bike and was greeting what seemed to be the class regulars, when he noticed me making my way to the open bike. He smiled. “Morning. Is this your first time?”

  I returned his smile. “I’m that obvious?” I grimaced as I lowered by gaze to my frumpy clothes. What the heck was I thinking? I would need to pay better attention to flamingo Kate and her clothing suggestions the next time. Although I would never admit that to her for fear she would take my trust and run with it, having me wear short dresses and heels at her earliest opportunity. I climbed onto the bike as Tate walked closer.

  “No, it’s just that I haven’t seen you in here before. And usually the newbies try and hide in the back of my class. I’m Tate, what’s your name?” He reached out to shake my hand and I returned the gesture, causing a shiver of anticipation to run down my arm. “I’m Evelyn, but you can call me Evie. I’d like to apologize in advance for how horribly I’m going to be at this.” I pointed to the bike and he laughed.

  He had a deep booming laugh that drew attention and I blushed in embarrassment. Good going, Evie. Way to make everyone notice you. That is, if they hadn’t already. I dreaded being the center of attention, but it seemed I made myself so as everyone had quieted to see what amused Tate. He walked around my bike and adjusted the handles and seat.

  “There. How does that feel?”

  “Good. I think.”

  “Well, don’t worry about it. Everyone starts somewhere, and you’re in good hands.” He nodded towards the man to my right. “If you have any questions once we get going, James here is a pro and I’m sure he would love to help you out.” Tate walked away and I exchanged a shy smile with my neighbor. James looked as if he were the long lost brother of Lance Armstrong. He was about my height and super lean, with muscle definition popping out on his calves as he pedaled at a leisurely rate.

  Tate walked over to the sound system, pushed a few buttons and popped on a head-set. The music started pounding and Tate greeted us all. “Good morning class. I hope you came here ready to work. Let’s get warmed up.”

  After ten minutes of pedaling and following Tate’s instruction I realized this was not the sport of choice for me. I was sweating profusely and having a difficult time catching my breath. Meanwhile James appeared that biking the Tour de France was something he did in his sleep. Now, I’m not overly coordinated or good at athletics, but one thing I am is highly competitive. Every time James turned his resistance up a notch I felt the need to do the same. He pedaled faster, and so did I. I’m not sure why, but there was something inside me that just couldn’t let someone else have the win, at least not without a fight. I had to prove I was more than what met the eyes. I was focusing on breathing and winning an imaginary race with James when I overheard two women behind me start having a rather loud conversation. One was telling her friend about a recent trip to the zoo with her three year old.

  Tate had everyone alternating between standing and sitting in thirty second bursts when I realized the direction of the conversation behind me was taking an unexpected turn. Loud mouth was huffing, “—and it was so adorable. She just loves all the birds. We had to stop and repeat the names of each one. I’d say macaw, she’d say macaw. I’d say eagle, she’d say eagle—”

  I looked forward as Tate told us all to kick it up a notch. He jumped off his bike and dropped his baggy sweat pants to reveal a pair of gray basketball shorts. There was nothing vulgar or inappropriate about the move. The man was obviously trying to keep cool while working up a sweat. However it did not go unnoticed. More than half the class erupted in a chorus of moans. Next to me James breathed a loud, “Sweet baby Jesus.”

  The woman behind me continued on with her story, “—and then the funniest thing happened when we got to the flamingos!” I heard a giant crash somewhere behind me. Tate jumped off his bike and ran to the back of the room. I closed my eyes in trepidation; there was a great probability that crash had to do with my best friend and the untimely conversation going on behind me.

  I turned and saw that Kate had somehow managed to fall from her bike and was clutching one leg in pain. Tate directed us all to continue pedaling as he managed to pick Kate up from the ground so she could lean on him. They walked towards the exit, her hobbling on her good leg with her bad leg balanced in the air, her arm wrapped tightly around Tate’s waist. She was whimpering in pain and I started to feel horrible. When they finally reached the door Kate turned her head to look back at me and winked.

  Tate ran back in a few minutes later and apologized for the interruption. He seemed determined to make us all pay for the momentary reprieve from his coaching, and when the sixty minute torture session was finally over I could hardly walk myself out of the gym. Well, that could have gone better. I wasn’t sure what we accomplished today other than make a complete mess of Tate’s spin class and possible permanent injury to my best friend. I hoped Jonathan had a better report for his efforts.

  As I shuffled out to my car, I noticed Kate sitting on its hood, looking down at her phone. “Kate, are you okay?” I yelled over to her, my concern for her injury pulling me out of my thoughts. She beamed at me and yelled back, “Flamingo!” Kate jumped down from my car and did a little dance to show she was fully well. I guess my bestie had a hidden talent for acting. I shook my head at her silly dance and had to laugh.

  “EVIE, RIGHT?”

  Tate approached me as I waited in the gym lobby for my first private training session.

  “Yep, that’s me.” Tate smiled and I was instantly irritated at my attraction to the man. After Saturday’s disaster of an attempt at recon work, Jon and I had met to discuss our plan of attack in getting the information we needed for Stacey. Tate Reynolds had no social media accounts that we could find, so we had to resort to an in-person investigation.

  He was completely gorgeous. Dressed in black athletic shorts, paired with the gym’s blue logo t-shirt and classic black on black Nikes shouldn’t make a person look so good. I could see why Stacey could picture herself on his arm, leading the next generation of the Mills-Sandoval bloodline. They would make beautiful babies.

  “Did you enjoy my spin class the other day? I wanted to check in with you at the end of class but you must have left right away and I didn’t get a chance.” He motioned for me to follow and we walked together toward the machines and free weights.

  Jon was continuing to spend time in the gym making connections with regulars as well as staff members to gleam as much information on Tate as he could. His latest and greatest plan, however, was signing me up for ten sessions of personal training with the notorious Tate Reynolds. Something I was not enthusiastic about and pretty much dreading. Jon thought it would be an excellent way for me to make a connection with Tate and hopefully get a feel for what he was about. I guess I should take it as a compliment that Jon trusted my intuition, but all I was thinking of was how much this was going to hurt. It had been two days since the spin class and I could finally sit down on the toilet without wanting to cry.

  It was mid-morning on a Monday so the place seemed dead after the crowds I had witnessed on Saturday. “To be honest I don’t think spin is my thing, but it was a really interesting experience.” I tried not to grimace at the memory.

  Take looked concerned and shook his head. “I still don’t know how that girl was able to fall off her bike like that. I’ve been teaching for years and never had something qu
ite like that happen. I haven’t seen her since and I just hope she’s okay. She seemed to have twisted her ankle really badly. I still can’t figure how she did that.” His brows knit in concern. I fought the urge to laugh. Just thinking about Kate and our code word fail had me inwardly chuckling.

  Tate smiled politely as we approached one of the treadmills. “Go ahead and hop up here and we’ll get you warmed up.” He started pushing buttons and I focused on not falling off as the tread started to turn. “Spin is certainly not for everyone, but what’s important is that you aren’t giving up on your fitness journey, and are willing to try something else. I’m glad you signed up for the full ten-session PT package. It gives us enough time to realize some results.” He upped the speed and incline.

  I nodded and huffed out a “yup.” I probably needed to care more about my fitness. This warm-up had me wondering how long I’d be on this stupid machine and how much he was going to up the speed. Spin, not my thing. Running, not my thing. I had to smile as Tate turned up the speed once more. Maybe Jonathan signing me up for PT had nothing to do with our client and he was only trying to tell me how out of shape I was!

  “So, Evie, what are your fitness goals? What do you hope to achieve?” Tate asked as he stood to the side of the machine. My shortness of breath and struggle were obvious; he added in a calm but stern tone, “Two more minutes. You can do anything for two minutes. Don’t forget to breathe.” It probably wouldn’t be acceptable to tell him I was only interested in finding out his entire dating history and eligibility to date a spoiled heiress. No, that wouldn’t get me what I needed, so I decided to be as honest as I could.

  “I want to get—” I struggled to suck in air. “—in better shape,” I added roughly as I focused on breathing deeply. Why was this so difficult? I looked down to notice Tate tapping the incline all the way up to twenty. Twenty? I didn’t know the incline went higher than ten. The machine tilted so steeply I felt I was jogging Mt. Everest. I worried I might actually fall off and gripped the sides with both hands.

  “No hands,” He commanded, making me drop them back to my sides. My lungs felt as if they were on fire as the timer hit the five minute mark. Tate slapped the stop button and the machine lowered its way back to a normal horizontal angle.

  “There, all warmed up now,” he added with a big grin and I glared at him. I think he was acquiring joy in my misery. He laughed and asked me to follow him over to the free weights.

  “Besides being in better shape, do you have any specific goals?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, most women I train have more quantitative goals. For example, wanting to lose X number of pounds, or so many inches from their waistline, or being able to perform unassisted pull ups. Do you have any goals like that? It’s okay if you don’t.”

  I felt a little defensive as I replied, “No, I don’t. Unlike some of your clients I actually like the way I look. I’ve always been curvy and it’s something I’ve embraced and love about myself. I’m not trying to change the way I look, and I couldn’t care less what someone else thinks about me. I’m not here to impress. Now what I would like is to get through a class or one of your little warm ups without feeling as though I’m about to die. Other than that, I’m happy with the way I am.” I accentuated my point by crossing my arms over my chest and fixing a glare on him that dared him to argue.

  He met my reply with a booming laugh. “Damn, I knew I liked you, Evie.” I relaxed my posture and met his laughter with a slight smile.

  “Okay, let’s get this torture session over with.” I huffed. He laughed again and put his arm around my shoulders, leading me over to where we would begin.

  “Come on, Evie, I’m not that bad. At least you get to look at this charming face while we pump some iron.” I rolled my eyes at his teasing arrogance.

  “Someone sure likes to look in a mirror. Please spare me the ‘I’m a hot trainer and I know it dialogue.’ We both know you are beautiful to look at. Moving on now.”

  My eyes widened in fear as I realized I had said that last part out loud. My normal politeness filter must have been lost somewhere on that treadmill run. I was pleased to note that Tate glanced away and wouldn’t meet my eyes. When he wouldn’t meet my eyes I wondered if he was embarrassed by my rant.

  Well, good. The old Evie would have apologized for her rudeness, but I wasn’t going to. Tate seemed to recover quickly, though. He moved closer and started me on a series of arm exercises with what seemed to be the tiniest dumbbells on the rack.

  “I hope you aren’t giving me these tiny weights because I’m a girl and you think I look weak.” I continued working as he counted my repetitions out loud. “I’m a lot tougher than you think.” He smiled at me and took the weights from my hands.

  “Oh, I have no doubt. The reason I gave you these tiny weights as you so nicely called them, is that we’re going to work on form and building muscle mind connection first, and then increase weight. The worst thing you can do is lift with bad form just because you want to go heavy or look tough. That leads straight to injury.” He turned to put them back on the rack.

  “Don’t worry though, I’ll have these guns growing in no time and we’ll up the weight each week.” He squeezed my bicep and I grinned sarcastically.

  “Oh goodie, something fun to look forward to.” Tate grinned and teased playfully, “Don’t challenge me, Evie. You’ll regret it. I never back down.”

  Something in those words excited me. It was most likely my overly competitive spirit coming out to play. “Bring it on, Mr. Reynolds,” I replied, and tried to focus on my task at hand as he set me up for the bench press.

  “How long have you worked as a trainer?” I asked between sets.

  “Since we opened, but I’ve worked as a trainer for most of my adult life.” Well that was vague. He stood behind the bench steadying the bar as I struggled to push it up and then bring it back down.

  He drove me throughout the rest of my allotted time, establishing a quiet rhythm. I found it difficult to speak, let alone form any decent questions while working out. I followed his direction and was pleased to find Tate was an excellent trainer. He was kind with his words of encouragement, which elicited a desire to push myself harder. He also was a stickler for form, dissecting and directing as I practiced different lifts.

  “It seems really dead in here compared to this weekend.”

  “Yeah, our busiest times are in the mornings and evenings, and weekends of course. The middle of the day is actually the best time to come in if you want the place to yourself.” He paused to adjust my hand placement on the barbell. “You are actually my last client of the morning. After you, I leave for a few hours and come back in the evening to teach two classes and work with other clients.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope I’m not keeping you from something. I could come in earlier next time if that helps you out.”

  “Don’t apologize, Evie. You’re my client and I wouldn’t schedule the time if I couldn’t commit. So what is it that you do for a living? Not many people your age have time available mid-day to be at the gym unless they are stay at home moms or insanely wealthy.” I paused to consider his question. This was where things got dicey. I hate lying with a passion; however, my new career path seemingly required it. I had to be as honest as I could allow.

  “I have a lot free time because I’m between jobs right now. I actually was let go a few weeks ago due to some company restructuring, and I just finished up my MBA so I’ve been applying to different jobs and playing the waiting game. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t do well with lots of downtime.”

  “I can understand that. I can’t even remember a time when I’ve been without a job. I can imagine it’s not easy to be side-lined when you like to be busy.” He motioned for me to stop my reps and started re-racking the weights we had used.

  “So, Evie, does that mean you would be free after this to join me for lunch?” He met my surprised expression with a grin that showed his d
imples. Oh crap. What do I do here? I had been so comfortable and interested in our conversation that I hadn’t realized I might be sending signals that I was interested in more than just a PT session. I had been asking him many personal questions that he probably thought I was interested in more. On the other hand, what better way to dig deep into his background than getting him to open up and talk to me? Already, our conversation moved so smoothly I was sure I could gain valuable information by spending more time together. Jonathan would probably kill me if he found out I passed up on an opportunity like this only because I was too scared.

  Tate’s grin faded into a confused expression at my lack of response. Someone as good looking as him probably wasn’t used to being turned down. Good, this would be a good lesson in humility for him. “Okay, I’ll go to lunch with you.” I answered, and his face lit up before I continued. “But just to be clear, we are going to lunch as friends. Nothing more. You okay with that?”

  His booming laugh returned, and I had to smile back at him. “Damn Evie, you sure know how to bring a man down.”

  He gave a look of mock hurt as I replied, “I have a sneaking suspicion I’m nothing like most women you know.” I followed him as he led the way to grab a mat for what I prayed would be a cool down or stretch and the end of what I would now refer to as torture sessions.

  Tate chuckled and shook his head in amusement, “Oh, you’re nothing like anyone I’ve met before, that’s for damn sure.”

  We finished with a short abdominal set and then on to blessed stretching. He made me promise to finish stretching and then meet him in the front lobby in fifteen minutes while he finished up a few things. I was glad for the time alone. I mentally prepared myself with a list of questions and hoped this new detour in the plan would work to my benefit. I stood after stretching and hoped we could get this job wrapped up before my ten sessions were complete.

  I took some time in the locker room to wash my face, re-wrap my hair into a ponytail, and throw a hoodie over my sweaty shirt. That was as good as it was going to get for the time being. I hadn’t planned on changing or showering and with my overall lack of enthusiasm for all sport related activities, my gym bag didn’t hold many essentials.