Personal Trainer

by Mia Carson

  “For three days?”

  “No. Before that, we were holed up in his gaming room. We beat the whole game,” she said with pride, amazed at their accomplishment and what he thought to do for her. Granted, he’d had Carrie’s help, but no man went through that much trouble for a woman he wanted nothing to do with, right?

  Sally watched her closely, and Belle shifted on her feet. “What was this fight about? Oh no… wait, I think I can guess.” Belle followed her as she plopped down in a chair and motioned for Belle to do the same. “My son is a stubborn hard-ass, if you haven’t already figured that out,” she said with a crooked smile. “And he doesn’t know what’s right in front of him half the time.”

  “Oh, he knows, trust me,” she muttered and hung her head, picking at her nails with her hands on the table. “I don’t know what he wants from me. We share a few kisses, had one night that could’ve been more if I hadn’t freaked out, and then the accident happens. He comes to see me all worried out and tells the paramedics he’s my boyfriend! And the moment we’re here, he acts like I’m this fragile little doll!”

  Sally laughed and patted Belle’s hands. Her face reddened, mortified she’d said all of that to his mom, but she just asked if Belle was hungry. “I can whip us up something while Greyson’s out pouting.”

  “You think that’s what he’s doing?”

  “Oh, I know that’s what he’s doing,” she said, her head buried in the fridge. “How about tacos?”

  “Tacos sound great,” Belle replied, watching Sally putter around the kitchen as her son did. She even hummed as she cooked.

  “You know why he’s doing this, don’t you?” she asked a while later when they were building their tacos at the kitchen island.

  Belle’s face scrunched. “He’s trying to drive me insane?”

  “There’s a chance of that, but no. The last relationship he had, they never lived together. He was too scared of what would happen,” she informed her, and Belle turned to stare at her. “He only shows his vulnerable side when he really cares for someone, and it terrifies him. With the last girl, she broke his heart. I thought he’d never get over it with all his flings and women he hooked up with, but with you? I see a spark in my son’s eyes that’s been missing for a long, long time.”

  Sally picked up her plate with a bright smile, leaving Belle standing there gaping. “Ready to eat? Good, I’m starving.”

  Belle picked up her plate and joined her as she passed the kitchen table and stepped out onto the well-lit back patio. “You really think he’s scared?” she asked after they sat down.

  Sally nodded. “Most men are when they find someone they really like.”

  “You sure it’s not just him being too stubborn?”

  “Like you are, my dear? He told me you’re a spitfire just like me, and I hate to say it, just like him,” Sally said with a quiet laugh. “Give it time, that’s all you can do. Have patience.”

  Belle laughed sharply. “That’s something I think we both lack.”

  “You’re both still young. There’s time, so don’t ruin it.” The seriousness in her tone forced Belle to look at the older woman and see the wisdom of long years and a broken relationship of her own. “And you, my dear, are the most mature twenty-two-year-old I’ve ever met. Trust me, I have two younger daughters, and they do not act like you.”

  “I have my days,” she mumbled, digging into her food.

  “So you’re telling me you two haven’t had sex yet?” she asked, and Belle choked on a mouthful of food. Sally pounded her helpfully on the back with a cackle. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Her eyes watering, Belle glanced at Sally. “No. We… uh, we haven’t. He won’t… he’s scared to because of my wrist, but I keep telling him—why am I telling you this?” she muttered, her face burning. “I can’t talk about his sex life with you!”

  “Why not?” She grinned widely. “I’m his mom. What’s it going to do to me? And besides, you lack a sex life with him, remember? You need to change that.”

  “He freaked out today when we kissed,” she told her sadly and leaned back in her chair with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Maybe you both need to stop being so difficult.”

  Belle opened her mouth to say she wasn’t, but her lips clamped shut when Sally’s eyes narrowed knowingly on her face. “I guess he… uh… he told you about the past few weeks.”

  “Vented, more like it,” she corrected. “Couldn’t understand what woman did not like being taken care of.”

  “One who’s not used to it. He should know that by now.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “Well, not exactly,” she admitted, “but I just assumed he’d figure it out.”

  “Have you two had a real conversation at all about this?” she pressed, and Belle shook her head. “No wonder you two are biting each other’s heads off.”

  “It’s only been the one time… or two,” she defended until a few other heated moments arose in her mind when Greyson pushed too hard to do every little thing for her. “Okay, there’s been a lot of them.”

  Sally gripped Belle’s hand and held it tightly. “Do me a favor and talk to each other. Openly. Otherwise, you’ll get lost in the storm brewing between you and will never find your way back to each other. Trust me, I’ve been there. His daddy was no easy man to love.”

  “But you loved him anyway?” Belle asked uncertainly.

  Sally released her arm and relaxed in her patio chair, staring out into the darkness of the evening. “I did, for as long as he was alive. Greyson never understood it, and I could never explain it. But I felt it deep in my bones, that man and I were meant to be together. No matter how many fights we got into, we always found our way back to each other. Fire and water. Sometimes, they go together and sometimes, they fight to tear each other apart.”

  The love reflected in her words caught Belle off-guard. A love she felt in her bones. Since the first time she saw Greyson, she was physically attracted to him. It was hard not to be. But after their first kiss and spending all this time together, the idea of leaving his home caused an ache in her chest that she had never experienced before and a longing deep in her gut.

  “I think I need some wine,” Sally said and stood abruptly. “Would you like some?”

  “Wine is a great idea,” she agreed and helped carry the plates in exchange for wine.

  Greyson parked his Mustang on the long drive and cringed when he saw his mom’s old truck there. He leaned his head back against the headrest, wondering if he should go inside or leave again. He’d gone to the office to find Tim in a panic. Apparently, he’d called Greyson over the past few days about an issue with the servers. Instead of getting a few hours of peace and quiet, he was on the floor, tweaking and fixing the servers as he ranted to Tim about Belle.

  And the only thing Tim had to say on the matter was to shut up, kiss the gorgeous woman, and get over his stubborn-ass attitude.

  Kissing Belle would be admitting he really cared for her, and caring for people made him weak, made him vulnerable to being hurt again. To lose focus on being the toughest. It meant his life would be turned completely upside-down… But the alternative was losing Belle, and that idea caused his jaw to clench so hard he was amazed he didn’t crack his teeth.

  There was no use waiting in his Mustang. Eventually, his mom would leave and she’d spot him, and the lecture would be ten times worse. He wondered what Sally and Belle were doing. The thought of Belle telling Sally everything that happened freaked him out, and he fumbled for his keys and launched out of the Mustang. He'd vented to his mom, of course, but she had a way of getting people to spill everything about themselves. Belle might’ve told her everything that had happened so far between them, and Greyson wasn’t sure he was ready for Sally to know that much.

  As he unlocked the front door and stepped inside, all he heard was laughter echoing from the kitchen. “Hello? Ladies,” he called out, but neither responded.
He followed the sounds to find them out on the back patio, sipping glasses of wine with their feet curled up under them on the padded couch near the fire pit.

  “There’s my son,” Sally beamed and patted the open space beside her. “About time you came home. I was just entertaining your guest.”

  “I see that.” He forced a smile as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned in the open door. “Having a bit to drink, are we?” Belle stuck her tongue at him, and all he could do was laugh.

  “You should join us. We’re having quite the laugh,” Sally insisted.

  “Let me grab a beer, and I’ll be back,” he told them and walked to the fridge, muttering under his breath. In the back of his mind, he realized it was a good thing Sally and Belle got on so well together. At the same time, he knew now that Sally would never let him live it down if he messed things up with Belle.

  When he joined them outside and pulled over a chairs to the fire, he sipped his beer and studied Belle’s complexion, ruddy from the wine. The fire in her eyes sparked when their gazes met, and though he could tell she tried not to smile, one broke out on her face anyway. Even when she was pissed at him, she couldn’t help but be happy to see him. Just as he was happy to see she was still in his home.

  “So, what are we talking about?” he asked.

  “You, of course,” Sally chirped, and Greyson gulped a bit more beer than he intended. As he sputtered, his mom cackled. “See? Just like his dad, so easy to throw off balance.”

  “Can we not bring him up right now?” Greyson asked stiffly.

  Belle tugged her ear, watching him from across the fire. He hoped whatever question was on her mind, she’d wait to ask until Sally wasn’t around. Thankfully, she returned to sipping her wine, giggling a little as Sally whispered something to her.

  “How much wine have you two had?”

  Sally and Belle glanced around their feet, and the latter held up three fingers. “A few glasses each, is all.” She giggled again, and the sound warmed his heart as it had when he showed her into the gaming room.

  “I see,” he growled. “And should you be drinking so much wine?”

  “I’m fine. I haven’t taken any pain meds, and I’m feeling pretty good,” she assured him, waving away his worry with her hand. “Really, I feel great.”

  “We were just talking about family and how important it is. Belle told me she only has one friend and doesn’t even talk to her foster parents anymore,” Sally said gently and rested her hand on Belle’s arm.

  “Mom, she might not want to talk about that,” he said, knowing she had yet to open up to him about her past even though he was dying to ask. To his surprise, Belle shrugged. “You want to talk about it?”

  She ran her fingers over the rim of her glass slowly—almost sensually—and Greyson fidgeted in his chair. “I never talk about it,” she said quietly, gazing into the fire. “Probably not too healthy, at least that’s what the therapists always said.”

  “What happened, hon?” Sally asked gently.

  “I don’t know. I guess that’s the worst part,” she lamented. “I wasn’t even told their names.”

  “What do you know?” Greyson waited for her to shut down and yell at him, but either the wine relaxed her enough to let her tough exterior fall away or she was finally comfortable enough with him. Either way, he wasn’t going to argue his good fortune.

  “I know they had to give me up, but after that, nothing.”

  “You never tried to look into it?”

  Her eyes flickered to his. “No, never wanted to. I figured it wasn’t worth my time trying to find them if I wasn’t worth their time to keep,” she slurred bitterly. “I moved on, let them stay in the past, and pushed forward. It was all I could do.”

  But she was lying. Greyson saw the pain on her pinched face. She wanted to know who her parents were, just like any normal kid would want to. Silence fell over the three of them, and only the crackling of the fire kept up the conversation until Belle stood and stretched her arms over her head.

  “I think that wine’s finally hitting me,” she teased and set her glass on the table nearby. “I'm going to turn in for the night. Thanks for keeping me company, Sally.”

  “Anytime, hon,” Sally said sincerely and stood to hug her tightly. “Anytime.”

  Greyson stood and walked her inside, closing the door quietly behind him to give them a moment of peace from his mom. “Belle, about earlier,” he said, but she grinned and shook her head.

  “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, alright? The wine’s making me feel all fuzzy,” she said and giggled.

  “You sure you can make it to your room okay?” he asked and reached out to steady her arms. The moment his skin met hers, they froze, and a wave of intense heat and need washed over him. He maneuvered closer until her breasts brushed against his chest. He used his hands to gently push her wavy hair from her face so he could better see her icy blue eyes and her pupils dilating with arousal. “I know it doesn’t seem like it,” he whispered, “but God, do I want you.”

  Her face went completely blank, and for a second, Greyson worried she’d pass out from the wine. A slow smile crossed her face, and she stood on her toes. “I know, but it’s complicated,” she whispered, brushed her lips delicately against his, turned and walked slowly, still giggling, to her bedroom.

  He scratched his beard, confused by her behavior. He returned to the patio, leaving the door open behind him, and sat down beside his mom, grinning widely.

  “What did you two talk about?” he asked her.

  “Girl talk—nothing you need to worry about, but I’m warning you,” she added, holding up a finger as her tone turned serious, “if you let this girl slip away from you because of your stubbornness or fear or whatever, you’ll regret it.”

  “I’m still figuring things out,” he insisted, but she shook her head.

  “No, you always do. Since your daddy died, you’ve pushed people away.” She patted his thigh and leaned into his shoulder. “Eventually, you have to let someone in.”

  “Can we please not talk about that man?”

  “We need to, I’m afraid,” she pointed out. “It’s why I came by in the first place.”

  Greyson groaned and stood, pacing around the fire as he rubbed the nape of his neck. “Mom, I really don’t want to get into this, alright? Not now.”

  “His birthday is soon,” she continued despite his protests. “And you know I always visit his grave with your sisters. It would be nice if you would join us. I think he would like it, too. It could give you both some closure.”

  “He’s dead,” Greyson snapped. “He can’t get anything.”

  “No, but you can,” she argued and stood. “Please, Greyson. You haven’t been since we buried your father. It might do you some good.”

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not going,” he growled and stormed back into the house. Sally followed, and he puttered around the kitchen, grabbing another bottle of cold beer and prying off the cap as Sally tapped her fingers loudly on the counter, eyeing him. “What?”

  “You are more like him than you realize,” she stated. “I just hope you don’t let your hard-headedness and worry consume you like he did.”

  Greyson scoffed. “Dad never worried. He nagged and yelled and berated, but he never worried.”

  “He worried about you all the time,” she insisted. “When you wanted to branch out on your own, he was scared—not that he would lose you as an asset to his company, but that you would pull away from the family entirely. That you wouldn’t need your dad anymore.”

  He glared into his beer bottle intently, not meeting her gaze, but he felt it all the same.

  “Your dad loved you, Greyson. I hope you know that.”

  “The man could’ve shown it once in a while,” he mumbled.

  Sally sighed and rubbed his arm. “Yeah, to you and me both, but that’s who he was. Come to visit his grave with us, please?”

  He moved away and
shook his head. “Sorry, Mom, I can’t.”

  Her face screwed up in annoyance, and she stiffened. “Fine, if you want to turn out like the man you thought he was, just like the man you think you hate, then fine,” she scolded. “One day, you’ll look back and wish you would’ve gone with us, wish you would’ve said a proper goodbye.” She stormed to the table and snatched up her purse.

  “Mom, wait,” he said, but she ignored him and continued towards the door. “I’ll think about it, alright?”

  She paused, her hand on the door, and the look in her eyes made him pause. “I love you, Greyson, but sometimes, you think too much.” She patted his cheek and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Greyson planted his fist on the heavy wood and considered his mom’s parting words. He knew she was right—she usually was—but that didn’t mean he had to like it. His dad never showed him any sort of compassion or support when he decided to take a different path, and visiting his grave would indicate that Greyson accepted everything his dad put him through. Except he didn’t. Far from it. His dad screwed him up in many ways.

  Stalking through the house and nursing a beer, he went into the gaming room for the specially made mouse and moved it to where Belle’s laptop rested. He was sure she’d want to get back to work in the morning. Maybe he’d make a move tomorrow. Their relationship was complicated, and not because of some great gap between them but because of him and his issues. She protected her heart because of never having anyone to love, but with him, she was willing to let down those walls and take a chance. Why couldn’t he do the same?

  He stepped outside to watch the fire die down as thoughts of Belle drifted through his mind, of what she might do if he went to her right now, slid back the covers gently, and kissed her sweetly. If he continued the kiss from earlier and finish what he’d started.

  Everyone leaves you in the end, the voice nagged in his mind. Or do you simply push everyone away?

  As the fire died completely, Greyson let his worries and doubts go with the dying embers. Tomorrow was a new day, and he was not going to let Belle slip away because of him. He'd said he was her boyfriend when the accident happened, and that’s exactly who he was going to be.