“It wasn’t really a kick,” Spencer said honestly. “But yeah, she poked at me with her foot.”
Lucy shook her head but didn’t comment any further.
“Good job, ladies. I’ll see you on Monday. Have a great weekend.” Rebecca turned and left the area, calling out to a man who waved at her from a treadmill. “How’s it going, Phil?”
Spencer, still lying on the foam mat and trying to catch her breath, watched Rebecca climb the stairs to the cardio equipment.
“You coming?” Lucy said from above her, standing now.
Spencer turned her head, looked up at her. “I’m just gonna lie here a bit longer.”
Lucy’s grin lit up her whole face. “I get that. I have to scoot, though. See you Monday.” She scurried toward the locker room. The other three girls had also headed in, but Spencer was content to just stay on her stomach for a bit longer.
BodyFit wasn’t busy at all, only a small handful of people milling around the equipment, mostly muscular men lifting the free weights, diehard bodybuilders. Spencer watched one guy curl a dumbbell that was bigger than her head. Not for the first time, she was amazed by how strong men were.
As Spencer slowly got herself to her feet, she saw Rebecca and the guy named Phil coming down the stairs, chatting away. Rebecca led him to a nearby area that had long straps with handles on the ends fastened to the wall. He must have said something funny because Rebecca laughed. Not a fake laugh. Not a polite laugh. A full-on laugh. It was fun and contagious enough to make Spencer smile at the sound.
“Not at all,” Rebecca said. “We’re going to challenge you, yes. But this will be fun.” She stressed the word, put a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Working out should be hard, but not stressful. Not something you dread. I want you to enjoy it. Okay?”
Spencer simply blinked at the words. At the relaxed, approachable expression on Rebecca’s face. It was one she hadn’t seen before. The encouraging words were ones she hadn’t heard before. And she found herself annoyingly jealous of Phil.
Feeling her anger beginning to simmer, Spencer made a face as she wiped down her mat and put it away. Without looking at Rebecca again, she stalked into the locker room.
* * *
“You got Phil tonight?” Sherry asked from behind the front counter as Rebecca approached.
Rebecca smiled. “I do.”
“You love him.”
“I do.” Joining Sherry behind the counter, Rebecca searched the shelves underneath. “I think I left my notebook back here. I’ve got a new circuit I want to try with him and can’t remember it all.” She bent down, moving folders and bottles and other people’s crap out of her way. A tap on her back made her move to stand, but she whacked her head on the counter first. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered as she stood, rubbing the back of her head, surprised to see Spencer Thompson standing on the other side of the counter. Her face was still flushed from her workout and still had a slight glisten from perspiration, but her sandy brows were furrowed into a V above her nose and her eyes were not their usual inviting blue. They were cool. Frosty. She had her bag slung over her shoulder, which she hefted as she met Rebecca’s eyes.
“I just wanted to let you know I won’t be back to class.” Her tone was quiet, but firm, not even remotely resembling the timid, shy tone Rebecca was used to hearing from her.
“Oh?”
“No. Frankly, I’m tired of the way you treat me, the way you single me out for constant criticism. I saw you with your client downstairs. Phil. And I heard you tell him how working out should be a challenge but also fun. And I realized that I am not having any fun here. You are not trying to make it fun. You make it hard and stressful, and I get enough of that on my own. I don’t need it here. This class isn’t for me.” With that, she hefted her bag again, turned, and stalked out the door, Rebecca and Sherry both watching her go.
“Wow,” Sherry said. “Kitty’s got claws.”
“You did not just say that.” Rebecca shook her head, trying to laugh at Sherry’s remark but finding herself stunned into inaction by Spencer’s words, by the chill in her eyes, which had turned to sparks as she spoke. “I should do something.”
“Are you asking me?”
Rebecca sighed, resigned. “No. I have her number. I’ll call her and apologize, see if I can talk her into coming back.”
Sherry looked at her for a beat, then finally asked, “Was she right?”
Rebecca found that she couldn’t meet Sherry’s eyes. Shame was funny like that. She didn’t like what Spencer had said, mostly because it was true. Thanks to her own baggage that had nothing at all to do with Spencer, she’d been unintentionally unprofessional, and she was not proud of it. “Yeah, she kind of was.”
“Kind of?”
“Not kind of. Was.”
“Yeah, you need to fix it, then. Leslie won’t be happy if we get bad reviews from her, and it’ll be worse if she mentions you by name.”
Rebecca hadn’t even had time to think about that possibility. Leslie Baker owned BodyFit and prided herself on her friendly staff. Bad reviews made her get all twitchy, which was never good. Plus, Rebecca would not enjoy being called out for being a bitch, which was exactly how she’d been acting. At the same time, the idea of eating a big slice of humble pie was utterly unappetizing. Her face must have said so because Sherry gave a humorless chuckle.
“You did this to yourself, babe.” With a gentle squeeze of Rebecca’s shoulder, she grabbed up her belongings. “See you Monday.”
Rebecca shook herself free of her frozen state, knowing she’d left Phil too long. With renewed vigor, she dug around and found her missing notebook, then headed back downstairs. Phil was awesome and fun to work with and she always enjoyed their hour-long personal training sessions, but tonight, she was preoccupied.
Tonight, her mind was filled with images of a pretty blonde who no longer held the title of weak and passive. Instead, she was now kind of tough. Stronger than originally thought. Assertive. A little bit of a badass. And wrapped around Rebecca’s embarrassment and irritation with herself, there was intrigue. Spencer Thompson had shifted Rebecca’s perception of her in a matter of thirty seconds.
Impressive.
She turned back to Phil, watching his form as he did squats. “Go down a little farther on that.”
“That’s what she said,” Phil ground out through clenched teeth, making Rebecca laugh. But only for a moment, and then she was back to thinking about Spencer and how she really owed the woman an apology.
I need to fix this.
Chapter Five
God, it was hot.
Spencer didn’t love the heat but also didn’t complain about it the way Marti did. To Spencer, complaining was useless. It wasn’t going to change anything, so why bother fretting over something you couldn’t control? But Marti didn’t see it that way and whined incessantly about the humidity, despite the fact that her house had central air.
They’d spent all day together yesterday, and Spencer didn’t like to admit that she often looked forward to time on her own. It had been a nice day. Very pleasant. They’d done a little shopping, had lunch in a lovely new café downtown (though sat inside rather than “sweat like farm animals,” as Marti had so eloquently put it, at an outside table for two), then watched a few episodes of Scandal on Netflix before adjourning to the bedroom, where Marti went to sleep instantly and Spencer had lain awake for another ninety minutes.
A typical Saturday for them, and now Spencer had some time on her own while she ran the open house for Jennifer. She found the correct place—the For Sale sign was a dead giveaway—and pulled into the driveway. The neighborhood was adorable, all small bungalows and one-story homes that were well kept and tidy. She expected a sizeable turnout today. Jennifer would have a sale on her hands in no time.
Leaving the air-conditioning of her car and stepping into the heat of that Sunday afternoon was jarring. Spencer took a moment just to breathe, the air feeling thick and heavy, like s
he was breathing through cheesecloth. She started to sweat almost immediately, so she popped her trunk and hauled out her signs as quickly as she could. The house had central air and she wanted to get inside, make sure it was comfortable for visitors.
She’d left a sign at the corner of the street to help people find the open house. Now she walked toward the street to the section of grass between the sidewalk and the road and propped a sign there. Then she took the smaller rectangular placard that read Open House 2–4 and slid it onto the top of the For Sale sign. A nod of approval and she went back to her car and bent in to grab her bag. In it was paperwork, sell sheets detailing the house’s features, and Jennifer’s business cards. She pulled it out, slammed the car door, and heard a familiar voice.
“Spencer? I thought that was you.”
Spencer turned to meet the blue-eyed gaze of Rebecca McCall.
Fudging son of a barn cat! Not somebody she expected to simply run into on a Sunday afternoon. There was a beat of hesitation while Spencer shook off the feeling of her worlds colliding. “Rebecca. Hi.” Rebecca wore a pair of black shorts, a green racer-back tank that left her shoulders visible, and flip-flops. “What are you doing here?”
Rebecca reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, then gazed off somewhere past Spencer. With a jerk of her thumb over her shoulder, she said, “I live next door.”
Spencer shifted her gaze to take in the house behind her. It was small and neat, slate gray siding with bright white trim. Two pots of beautiful pink impatiens stood on either side of the front steps. A white Honda Accord was parked in the driveway. “Oh,” Spencer said, as she wasn’t sure what else to offer, especially given how they’d parted on Friday. Honestly, Spencer had expected never to see Rebecca McCall again, and that was okay with her.
“Listen, I know you’re busy, but…” Rebecca wet her lips, and it occurred to Spencer that maybe she was battling nerves. “I don’t know if you got my voicemail message…” She let her voice trail off, and Spencer realized she, typically, hadn’t checked her voicemail in a couple days. Mostly because nobody ever left her voicemails.
“You left me a voicemail message?”
“I did. Yesterday.”
“Do people still do that?” The question slipped out before Spencer had time to think about it, and she watched as Rebecca looked away, her face tinting pink. She’d embarrassed her, which shouldn’t have bothered her, but did. She softened her tone. “No, I haven’t listened to it yet. I’m sorry.”
Rebecca’s throat moved as she swallowed. “Okay, well, I wanted…I owe you an apology.”
That was a surprise, and Spencer was sure it showed on her face.
“I was terribly unprofessional. You were right. I wasn’t treating you like I should, and I wasn’t helping you enjoy your workouts. That’s totally on me.”
Spencer watched her face, looked for sincerity. Found it.
“I’d like you to give me another chance. Come back to class. I promise it’ll be different.” She lifted herself up on the balls of her feet, then dropped back down, chewed on her bottom lip as she waited for a response.
“I…” What to do here? While Spencer knew she hadn’t really given the class a chance because Rebecca had made it so difficult, she’d been relieved to call it quits. But now…Rebecca looked so genuinely sorry. Spencer wasn’t stupid, however. She knew that Rebecca could simply just be doing damage control, trying to save her reputation, trying to keep BodyFit from getting a bad review (which Spencer had no intention of posting, but still…). Her face, though.
“Please?” Rebecca’s expression was softer, gentler than Spencer had seen up until now, and it made her waver.
A car pulled up out front, and that took care of Spencer’s wavering, as time had run out on her. “Okay,” she said quickly and with a wave of her hand. “Fine. I’ll give it another shot.” She wasn’t about to stand there and argue, so she took the easiest path. Spencer didn’t count on how Rebecca’s face would light up. Or how warm that would make her feel.
“Great. That’s…that’s fantastic. Thank you.” Rebecca took a step backward. Another. Her face held the same expression as a kid who has just been told there’s a snow day. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
Spencer nodded as the car began to empty and a young couple looked up at the house. “Yes. Yes, fine.”
Rebecca continued to grin, gave Spencer a little wave, then turned and went back to her own yard.
Having correctly predicted the popularity of the neighborhood, Spencer was kept busy pretty much for the entire two hours of the open house, as potential buyers tromped through almost nonstop. There were a few who were obviously there just to look—it wasn’t unusual for people to use open houses to get ideas for decorating their own homes—but there were also a couple of serious contenders.
By the time she’d fastened the lockbox back onto the front doorknob and was heading to her car, Spencer was way overstimulated. That wasn’t going to change when she stopped by her parents’ house, so she sat in the driver’s seat for a good ten minutes to decompress. She sent a text to Jennifer, told her about the success of the day and that she’d send information on the potential buyers once she got home. Tucking her phone back into her purse, she ventured a glance to her left. She was in no way up for dealing with Rebecca again but found herself feeling a mix of relief and disappointment when she noticed the Accord that had been parked in Rebecca’s driveway was now gone.
Yeah, that was for the best.
Ninety minutes later, she was seated at the dining room table in her parents’ house, having been talked into staying for dinner by her younger brother, Travis.
“And I got to push the huge cart today with all the stuff on it,” he was saying as he shoveled food into his mouth.
“Heavy stuff?” Spencer asked.
“Yeah. Dog food and cat litter and stuff like that. I really had to use my muscles.” He held up an arm and flexed. “Feel.”
Spencer squeezed his biceps, then dutifully widened her eyes and made all the right sounds of being impressed by his manly strength. It made him beam with pride, something Spencer always loved to see. “So, the job’s working out?” she asked him, but it was more directed at her parents.
Travis nodded as he forked half of a rather large salt potato into his mouth.
“Honey, small bites,” Spencer’s mother said gently. “You don’t want to choke.”
Travis nodded again and spat the potato out onto his plate, then cut it in half.
Spencer tried not to grin as her mother just sighed and shook her head. “Yes, the pet store owner is very patient with him,” she told Spencer. “Seems to be good so far.”
“Tomorrow is adoption day,” Travis said, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Yeah? What does that mean?” Spencer loved when Travis was this animated about something. Life could be hard at times for an intellectually disabled thirty-year-old, and finding a job that held his interest, even harder. Travis had been through many since he’d been old enough and educated enough to give it a shot. He always started strong, but his mind would wander and he had a terrible time concentrating.
Travis started to talk with his mouth full, but caught the look his mom shot him. After he’d made a show of swallowing, he said, “The animal shelter brings in some dogs and we put them in pens around the store. People can come and look at them and play with them and maybe adopt them.”
“And do you get to play with them?” Spencer asked.
Travis nodded vigorously.
“That sounds awesome.”
“It is.” Travis shoveled more food into his mouth. “I love adoption days.”
Spencer stabbed a piece of meat with her fork and looked at her mother. “Anybody hear from Mary Beth lately?” Her older sister led a busy life and it was rare that their paths crossed unless they made them.
“I called her last week,” her mother said. “Everything is fine. Work is busy. Life is busy. Still datin
g Brent. Trent? Troy?”
“Bryce,” Spencer supplied, with a grin.
“Yes. Him.”
“I should shoot her a text,” Spencer said, more to herself than to her mom.
“So, what’s new with you, honey?” Spencer’s father asked. Greg Thompson was a quiet man with a big presence. He rarely raised his voice—Spencer suspected that came from having a son like Travis, as shouting at him didn’t help anything at all. Made things worse, in fact. Instead, Greg had a gentle, soothing tone pretty much all the time. Spencer felt safe and comfortable with him, always, and knew others felt the same way.
“Not a lot,” Spencer said, chewing a bite of grilled chicken. “I started a class at the gym, quit it, and am going back tomorrow.” Her chuckle held little humor, as she was now beginning to regret agreeing to giving Rebecca McCall a second chance.
“Oh?” her mother asked. Margie Thompson was a small woman, petite. Spencer got her blond waves from her mom, as well as her ability to adjust to almost any situation. “What’s the class?”
“It’s called Be Your Best Bride. We’re all getting married fairly soon and we all want to get in better shape for it.”
“That sounds great. How’d you find it?” Her mother was listening, while also keeping an eye on Travis. It was a skill she’d mastered over the years.
“I didn’t. Marti did. She signed me up.”
There were several beats of silence around the table before her father broke it.
“Marti signed you up? For a fitness class? Did she run it by you first?”
Spencer cleared her throat. “No, but it’s fine. I could stand to be in better shape.” Wishing she hadn’t said anything, she pulled a Travis and stuffed a too-big salt potato into her mouth so she wouldn’t have to speak.
Her parents didn’t love Marti. They liked her just fine, but Spencer knew Marti wasn’t their ideal partner for her. It had nothing to do with Spencer’s sexuality and everything to do with Marti. Her parents loved Spencer and respected her, so they never badmouthed Marti or said mean things. Mostly, when Marti did or said something of which they didn’t approve, they simply got quiet. Spencer had suspected it for a while, but it became crystal clear when she’d told them Marti thought they should get married. The silence had been deafening.
The Shape of You Page 5
