by T. Torrest
I mean, the outburst itself was pretty amusing. But the fact that she seemed to be wholly invested in provoking me this morning was just too entertaining for words. It was a completely unexpected new side to her. She showed up for today’s session wearing a pair of black stretch pants and a tiny white T-shirt that said EVERYTHING HURTS AND I’M DYING across the front, which made me think she was also developing a bit of humor along with her defiance.
Good signs.
I couldn’t hide my grin as I answered, “Well, I figure there won’t be much of you I don’t know by the end of our two months together, but it’s better to learn as much as I can as early as I can.”
Two months. Two entire months of what I was sure was going to be unmitigated torture, trying to keep things on a professional level.
My grin disappeared as Ainsley grumbled and went back to work. After an eternity, she handed the paper over, and I set her up on the stepper while I looked it over. I’d already glanced through the rest of the booklet, but now I had the time to really assess her answers. I was mostly curious about what she’d written today, however, so I started there.
PLEASE LIST TEN THINGS YOU ALREADY LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. I’m nice
Agreed.
2. I try to be a good person
Good for her. That’s important.
3. My hair
4. My eyes
Glad she appreciates some of those killer looks.
5. I have decent fashion sense
That she does. A little conservative for my tastes, but we could work on it.
6. Excellent fingernails
I stopped scanning her list at that one. I looked up and asked, “Excellent fingernails?”
Ainsley never broke stride on the stepper and simply wiggled her fingers in my direction. “They never break. I know girls who spend hundreds at the nail salon every month, but I hardly go at all. It’s my best physical feature.”
I was pretty sure that I could name about twenty better ones, but if Ainsley found pride in her fingernails, I wasn’t going to tear her down.
7. My dog
That one threw me. “Whoa, hold on. Number seven? Your dog? This hardly counts as something you like about yourself.”
“Of course it does.”
“How so?”
“Because I trained him.” I shook my head, chuckling at her logic. “Hey, don’t knock my awesome dog,” she said through her panting. “Fluffernutter was the best.”
That was about all I could take. “Fluffernutter?”
She gave a shrug and explained, “I was ten. I named him after my favorite thing.”
That shocked me. Who knew a pristine Connecticut rich girl like Ainsley was even aware of what a Fluffernutter was, much less that it was her favorite thing?
God, I was practically in love with her already. Good thing she impressed me early because I wasn’t exactly blown away by the rest of her list. Check it out:
8.I have a green thumb
Yawn.
9.I can identify all 151 of the most common flower types in the U.S.
Bigger yawn.
I mean, really? I don’t think I’m being too out of line by finding both of those things incredibly boring. But I guess when you’ve spent your life sheltered within the walls of your family home, you don’t get too many chances to learn how to be dazzling.
That’s where I came in.
10.I can roll my tongue
Alright. Now we were talking.
Before I could stop myself, I barked out a request. “Lemme see.”
“See what?” Ainsley asked.
I couldn’t hide my smirk as I answered, “Number ten.”
She almost lost a step as she giggled up a storm, but she finally calmed down and stuck her tongue out at me. Sure enough, it was formed in a perfect curly-Q.
“I’m impressed,” I busted. “Hey, I’m gonna grab a water. You want?”
She answered with a breathy, “Yes! Thank you.”
I beat a quick exit out the gym doors and practically ran into the hallway, adjusting myself in my shorts the second I was out of her line of sight. I couldn’t get the vision of Ainsley’s tongue out of my mind. I wanted to wrap my arms around her waist, lower her down from the stepper, and suck that tongue right into my mouth.
I threw a few bucks in the vending machine and retrieved two bottles of water, one of which I used to roll across my forehead in an attempt to cool off. I leaned against the wall and pressed the sweating bottle to my heated skin, trying like all hell to get my brain straight. I was going to have to do a better job of keeping my attraction to this woman in check from now on.
After all, I was supposed to be grooming her for husband hunting.
I grumbled to myself at the thought.
CHAPTER NINE
Mia and I had spent the rest of our time at The Blue Bar the other night talking shop. She told me more about her career issues, and I told her more about Swan, Inc. She was intrigued with the premise of my business, and fascinated by the tales of my clients’ successes.
I was at a point in my career where I didn’t need to seek out clients anymore; the word-of-mouth had spread and I rarely bothered with advertising. So, it was an odd position I found myself in, trying to convince Mia to sign on. Surprisingly, it didn’t take much prompting on my part. After a few drinks and a quick sales pitch, she was on board.
The thing was, I knew I could help her. My program was all about confidence-building. It didn’t matter whether it was to land a man or a job.
She had a bubbly personality, so the social aspects of moving up the corporate ladder weren’t going to be a problem. No. Her issues lay squarely with speech-giving and team-building. She didn’t like to be the center of attention, all eyes trained on her. I assumed it was because of her weight. Not a problem. I’d whip that overgrown bod into shape and she’d be strutting her stuff soon enough.
And that’s why our very next follow-up appointment was taking place at the gym.
Mia showed up for our first workout session wearing a gray scoop-neck T-shirt that accentuated her full bust, and a pair of black stretch pants that hugged her curvy ass. I couldn’t wait to see what I could turn her into. Her shape was right; there was just too much of it. Eight entire weeks of high-intensity cardio should kickstart her into better form.
“You ready to get this party started?” I asked.
Mia threw her towel on a nearby chair as she answered, “As I’ll ever be.”
“Good,” I said. “Come have a seat so we can get the paperwork out of the way first.”
I had her meet me at Crunch on 38th not only because it was a great gym, but because it was close to midtown. Since she had a full-time job, we had to schedule her workouts during the evening hours, and I had to imagine that rallying for a gym session after a full day of nine-to-five wasn’t the easiest thing to do. I gave her a ton of credit for going along with it.
We took a seat on the black leather bench in the lobby area. I pulled the sizeable stack of pages out of my duffle bag and dropped them down on the white Formica table with a thunk.
“What the hell is that?” she asked, wide-eyed. “Do I need to sign away my firstborn? My soul?”
I chuckled as I answered, “I know it seems intimidating, and yeah, maybe I went a little overboard on the personality assessment here, but we don’t need to go over everything tonight. This,” I said, placing my hand over the pile of papers, “is homework.” When she shot an oh really? look at me, I assured her, “I promise, you’ll breeze right through it. This, however,” I added, pulling off the top four pages, “has to be taken care of now.”
I started to explain some of the details as Mia scanned the contract, but she was already waving for a pen before I could finish. She took a few minutes to scrawl something on the bottom of the final page as I craned my neck to see what she’d written, but I couldn’t get a clear enough view until she handed the paper back to me:
CLIENT has no pa
tience to haggle over the terms of this anal-retentive contract at the present moment. She is simply signing the ridiculous thing in order to get her workout underway. Owner/Proprietor of Swan, Inc. agrees that he will discuss the terms at a later date, and be open to adjustments at that time. Because there’s no way in hell that CLIENT is doing half this stuff.
She’d signed her name underneath, and added X___________ for me to do the same.
I’d started chuckling at her amendment, but it was the sight of that X that pushed me over the edge. I was cracking up as I motioned for Mia to hand me the pen, and enthusiastically signed my name on the line. I stuffed the papers back into my bag and rose from my seat before holding out Mia’s towel toward her.
“Anal-retentive?” I asked as she stood up. “I like to think of myself as detail-oriented.”
Mia gave a huff, threw the towel around her neck, and said, “Taggart, you’re so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up your ass, in two weeks it would turn into a diamond.”
I did a double-take at her comment, less annoyed at the fact that it was insulting and more impressed that she was quoting one of my favorite movies. “Ferris Bueller?” I asked.
“You know it.”
“That I do.”
Seeing as she was a girl after my own heart, and seeing as she wasn’t going to sign the official contract, I figured we could seal the deal in a more unconventional way. I was smirking as I held out my palm for a handshake. “Here’s to newfound confidence and old eighties movies.”
“And shoes,” she added, meeting my grasp.
“Of course. We can’t forget the shoes.”
We were both chuckling as I led her into the gym. “Always an adventure doing business with you, Cruz.”
I had her start on the treadmill, a full thirty minutes of moderately-paced power-walking. I didn’t know if I was pushing her too much for her very first workout, but I did know I wouldn’t be doing her any favors by going too easy. I had her follow up on the stepper, and then a condensed session of weight training.
She carried out her first day without complaint, but she was definitely wiped out.
After a quick shower and costume change, we headed over to Hoboken for the second part of tonight’s assignment, which is why we were currently settled in at a dilapidated wood table at The Duplex West to see a band.
“Band” might be overstating things, however.
Def Bowler Jam was a fairly terrible rock ensemble. These guys were bad. Like really, really bad. Their instrumentals were barely recognizable and their lead singer was tone deaf.
I couldn’t get enough of them.
Mia pulled her wide-eyed gaze from the stage to shoot an accusing glare at me. “Wasn’t there a worse band we could go see tonight?
“What do you mean?” I asked with mock confusion. “This is the hottest ticket in town.”
“Then I feel bad for the town.”
I laughed my ass off. I couldn’t help it. The jig was up. “Don’t. This neighborhood loves these guys. Zero talent and all.”
“Okay, so I’m not crazy. They’re not exactly... good, right?”
“No, not at all. But that’s the idea.”
“What is? Taking me to see a crappy band?”
“Yes,” I laughed out. “It’s Observation Week. Have you ever seen a more confident lead singer than that guy?” I pointed to the stage just as Harvey dropped to his knees and screeched out an ear-splitting final note. “And you can make fun of them all you want; it won’t stop them. They know they suck. They just love to play, and they get to do it here every Thursday night.”
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her club soda. “So,” she said. “Do you like all old movies or just ones from the eighties?”
The abrupt change of subject caught me off guard, until I realized she was just continuing our conversation from earlier. “I think my father would probably pass out if he heard you calling eighties movies ‘old.’”
“You know what I mean.”
I did. I gave a shrug and answered, “Probably all old movies. You?”
“I like all movies, period. But eighties are my favorite.”
“Which one tops your list?”
She didn’t even hesitate as she answered, “Well, aside from the fact that Eric Stoltz is the hottest redhead ever in Some Kind of Wonderful—”
“Never saw it.”
“Blasphemy!” she declared. “Sweet and romantic. Totally underrated.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “Please don’t tell me it’s your favorite movie just because you think the actor is hot.”
“No. Even though I think he’s hot, The Princess Bride gets the win.”
“Never saw that one either. Isn’t that a kids’ movie?”
“No way,” she said, shaking her head with conviction. “Try and find a grown woman who doesn’t swoon anytime Wesley says ‘as you wish.’ Be still my beating heart,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.
Def Bowler Jam launched into “I Want You to Want Me” (I think), and the noise level rose to unparalleled heights. It caused Mia and me to cease with our conversation, at least for the time being. It was a good enough excuse to use the time to sit back and observe her. Every moment spent with her up until now had been on fast forward.
She was high-energy. Thought fast, talked fast, moved fast. The latter was pretty surprising when you take her larger bod into account. Walking around looking like that showed she had more confidence than I had given her credit for, at least.
Wait. You know what? I’m an asshole.
I stabbed at the lime in the bottom of my glass, thinking that it was shitty of me to make assumptions about her life based on her looks. It was wrong of me to treat her as a “safe” target for flirting practice that night at The Blue Bar, and I’m glad I didn’t get much of a chance to do so. She was way cool and a lot of fun.
She deserved better than that.
CHAPTER TEN
Once a year, the best students from the School of Visual Arts were given the opportunity to paint a mural on the outside of the building. People came from miles around to watch its creation.
Ainsley and I were two of them.
There was a large courtyard adjacent to the school, and it was there that we set up shop. We were able to find a piece of real estate amidst all the people throwing Frisbees, playing music, talking, laughing. I laid our blanket out on the lawn and unpacked the lunch that I’d put together earlier this morning. Nothing too crazy; just some fruit, some crackers, and a couple bottles of water. And oh yeah. Two Fluffernutter sandwiches.
Yeah, fine, you caught me. I was trying to impress her. So what.
Ainsley smoothed her skirt behind her knees and lowered herself to the blanket as modestly as possible. She was wearing a short pink sundress covered in little white flowers, and it knocked me right the fuck out. She was so completely unaware of how naturally seductive she was.
The artists had already begun their painting. They had a scaffolding set up against the wall that allowed two people to splash large swaths of color on the upper part of the mural. We couldn’t tell what the finished product was going to be yet, but at the very least, it was pretty interesting to watch.
Ainsley seemed to be enjoying it, anyhow. Her face just lit up as she watched the artists go to town on their project, excitedly commenting on their pigment choices and brushstrokes.
I, on the other hand, was simply enjoying my present company. With the relaxed setting, I could almost pretend that Ainsley and I were on a date, not an assignment.
“This is so amazing,” Ainsley gushed. “One of my favorite things to do is go to the art galleries in Westport.”
“I know,” I said through a wily grin. “You wrote about it in your personality assessment.”
“Is that why you brought me here today?”
“I like to tailor my program to each individual person. My clients find greater success when they can find a way to relate to their ass
ignments.”
I grabbed one of the bottles of water as Ainsley nibbled on a cracker. “Interesting. So, what else have you got planned for my ‘tailored program?’”
Shooting her a sly smile, I answered, “You’ll just have to wait and find out.” At that, I popped a grape into my mouth and gave her a wink.
The heat rose in Ainsley’s cheeks, and I reveled in the fact that my grin was responsible.
She snickered through a sigh. “I can’t wait until I learn to do that.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Be comfortable enough with myself to flirt as naturally as you do.”
Busted.
What she didn’t know, however, is that I wasn’t comfortable and nothing was natural. I second-guessed every single move I made around her. It was as if all my years of transformation had disappeared within one minute of meeting her. This girl had me on the ropes.
“You give me too much credit,” I said, playing humble. “It’s all just smoke and mirrors. You’ll learn that for yourself soon enough.”
“Gosh, I hope so.” She cracked the cap of her water bottle and took a sip before adding, “You know... I think I should tell you something.”
“Shoot,” I offered casually, even though I was feeling anything but. From the tone in her voice, I wasn’t sure I was going to like what she had to say.
Her head was down as she picked at a white daisy on her skirt. “I know your website says all this stuff about confidence training, but I guess I didn’t really believe it until I met you. I thought you were going to be a shallow jerk who specialized in making girls pretty, nothing more. I mean, how could you do all that you claimed over the course of only two months? But I’m starting to get it now. I’m starting to understand. Still seems to be too good to be true, however.”
