Flirting with the Boss
A love at the Gym Novel
Amy Sparling
Contents
1. Noah
2. Tasha
3. Noah
4. Tasha
5. Noah
6. Tasha
7. Noah
8. Tasha
9. Noah
10. Tasha
11. Noah
12. Tasha
13. Noah
14. Tasha
15. Noah
16. Tasha
17. Noah
18. Tasha
19. Noah
20. Tasha
21. Noah
22. Tasha
23. Noah
24. Tasha
Epilogue
Also by Amy Sparling
About the Author
1
Noah
I sit back in my office chair, tilting my head back until I’m staring at the ceiling. I notice a tiny little dip in the drywall spackling that missed getting painted the same bright white as the rest of the ceiling. My teeth wear into my lip as I stare at it, that tiny little imperfection. It’ll probably bother me if I don’t do anything about it. The leftover ceiling paint is in the storage closet. I should touch it up soon.
When my two best friends and I rented this old building, remodeled spent months remodeling it, and made it into a gym, I had painted my office myself. Guess I’m the one who screwed up the ceiling. To be fair, the spackling on the ceiling is so bumpy it’s hard to get paint into all of the crevices. I remember that night, too. I’d been awake way too long and had painted way too many walls. My neck hurt from craning it up to the ceiling. I guess I got lazy.
With a deep breath, I look back at my computer. I always do this. I get overwhelmed with work and start thinking about random stuff that doesn’t matter. No one is going to notice that ceiling imperfection but me. What really matters right now is the article I’ve read three times in a row.
How to conduct a job interview.
This is beyond weird, because in all my life, I’ve only ever been the nervous prospective employee sitting on the other side of the interview desk. Now, I’m about to be the boss. The person sitting in my comfortable leather office chair, staring down the nervous prospect, asking them interview questions.
At twenty-four, I’m not even technically old enough to legally rent a car yet. But I’m going to be someone’s boss. It’s weird.
Weirder than weird.
But we need the help. Brent, Kris, and I have done a pretty good job of getting the gym up and running over the last year, but now we are stretched thin. The gym is open from seven in the morning to ten at night (or later if Kris feels like staying), and that’s a long time for at least once of us to be here. So far, Brent and I run the day shift, and Kris works nights, but we need to be able to take time off, and we need someone at the front desk at all times.
Thus, the interviews.
The guys and I agreed to hire two new people. One will help out in the day shift and one will work evenings. Since I’ve always been more of the boss of the group, they’ve put me in charge of choosing who to hire, and then we’ll bring them in for a second interview and get everyone to agree. Sounds simple enough. But the truth is I’m kind of weirded out about it.
Brent pokes his head in my office. “Hey man, your first interview is here. Want me to send him back?”
“Yep,” I say, quickly closing the browser on my computer. No need to let this guy know that I’m Googling how to interview him.
The first application on my desk is for a man who is fifty-three years old. He came by a couple of weeks ago asking if we were hiring, and I gave him an application. I don’t have any problem hiring someone older, but it does feel awkward that I’d be the boss of someone old enough to be my own father. Hopefully this guy is okay with that.
A few moments after Brent leaves, the older guy walks into my office wearing sweatpants and a tank top that is struggling to cover his large beer gut.
Welp… this is going well.
“Hello,” I say, standing up and reaching out to shake his hand. Even if he doesn’t look professional, I’m still going to be. “I’m Noah Hunter. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Bill,” he says, giving me a firm handshake that reminds me of my dad. Only my dad would never wear workout clothes to a job interview. Even though we’re in a gym, he still should have worn something more professional.
I go over the aspects of the job, and ask him the pre-planned questions I’ve already come up with. The interview doesn’t go the way I assumed it would. It’s pretty clear that Bill was thinking this would be an easy gig that will let him workout and get into shape while he’s here on the clock. The idea of using computers and greeting clients clearly bothers him, and by the end of the interview, I’m both annoyed that this guy is so inept for the job. But I guess it can only get better from here.
My second interview is completely the opposite from my first one. I’m not as nervous this time around, because it’s not really as intimidating as I feared. Plus, this time the job candidate is something I know. Jon is my age, and we had a few college classes together, which is how I know him. Jon has been asking for a job ever since we opened, and now that we’re finally hiring out some side help, he’s eager to join the team.
He’s a tall African American man with a great attitude and friendly smile I think the guests would love. Unlike my previous interviewee, Jon doesn’t cringe when I tell him the job requires hanging out at the front desk, signing up new clients, and helping them with anything they’d need. He says he’d prefer to work the day shift, but will take any shift I want to give him. Flexibility is a big thing to look for in potential employees, according to Google.
I mentally check off all the boxes in my head. Jon will make a great employee. I wouldn’t even need to call his references because I already know that he’s a good guy.
“I’ll be honest,” I say at the end of our interview. “I like you and I want to hire you. But I promised the guys that I’ll bring in the people I want to hire for a second interview to get their opinions. If they agree, the job will be yours.”
“Awesome,” Jon says. “That shouldn’t be a problem unless Kris decides to hold it against me that I always beat him at basketball.”
I laugh. Back in college, we spent a lot of time at the school’s gym playing basketball. “I don’t think he’ll hold that against you. Kris sucks at every sport.”
“He’s got that sweet motorcycle though, and I think chicks like that better than being good at sports,” Jon says.
I snort out a laugh. “That’s for sure.”
Kris and his motorcycle have been the source of many women popping into the gym hoping to talk to him. Now if only all those women signed up for gym memberships, we’d be able to retire rich.
I walk Jon outside and then head back to my office, looking over the list of other people I’m interviewing today. Most of them are scheduled to come in every half hour or so, with a break in my schedule for lunch.
My eyes land on a name at the very bottom of my list. When I’d called her a few days ago, she seemed happy to get my call, but the only time she could come in was after three in the afternoon because of her other job.
I look at her name—Tasha Bryan—typed on the paper on my desk. My finger slides across the letters. I can’t wait to see her again. And that’s something that is so embarrassing I can barely admit it to myself. I mean, what kind of person crushes on someone they don’t even know? I’m pathetic.
I still remember the day she walked into the gym, saying she’d seen the Now Hi
ring sign on the door and wanted to fill out an application. She was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes your heart lurch all crooked in your chest. In my state of instant love-sickness, I’d stuttered out some stupid joke in an attempt to sound cool. She laughed at it, but she was just being nice. I gave her an application and she thanked me, smiling that beautiful smile of hers, and then she left.
I’ve been thinking about her ever since. And that’s something I absolutely can’t tell anyone. I’m the boss, after all. So this girl is off limits.
* * *
Brent orders sub sandwiches for lunch, and we all eat them in the back office around noon. One of our rules for the gym is to never eat in front of the clients because that’s just rude. That means we take our lunch breaks back here in the employees only offices.
I update the guys on the interviews, and they both seem like they don’t care who I hire. They’re just glad I’m handling the interview process. They put a lot of trust me, and sometimes it’s a little too much trust. It often feels like everything weighs on my shoulders and that the success or failure of this gym will be because of me. But my role around here is to be the “boss” so I’m trying to embrace it.
When four o’clock rolls around, I am a total nervous wreck. It’s not because I’m still worried about the interviews—that part has been going well, but it’s because I’m afraid to like this girl. She’s here for a job, not a boyfriend. Me crushing on her is absolutely not okay.
The agonizing thing is that Tasha is beautiful and seems like my exact perfect woman, at least from the small but I know of her. It’ll be hard to keep my cool around her, but I will have to do it. My pulse races as it gets closer to her interview time. I am straight up excited to see her again. Maybe this is not the best idea. I should stop this before it ever starts and make sure I don’t give her the job.
Or maybe I’ll get lucky, I think. Maybe she’ll show up and she’ll have this awful personality and she’ll be the total opposite of what I’ve conjured up in my mind. Maybe this whole thing will just fix itself.
Brent pokes his head into my office, taps on my doorframe and says, “Your next interview is here.” He’s done that nine other times today, but this time it makes my chest tighten.
I stand up and smile when Tasha walks into my office.
“Hello, nice to see you again,” I say, extending out my hand the same way I’ve done for every other candidate today.
“You too,” she says, shaking it. “I’m Tasha Bryan.”
Oh trust me, I know who you are, I think.
She’s dressed in a gray pencil skirt with a white button up blouse that’s neatly tucked in at the waist. She carries a black leather purse that matches her high heel shoes, and together she’s very sexy in a librarian or lawyer kind of way. And at the moment, I can’t think of any other type of sexy that could beat this look. She’s definitely as beautiful as I remember. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll have a terrible personality so this stupid crush I have can fade away.
“Have a seat,” I say, gesturing to the chair in front of me. “I’m Noah, part owner of Roca Springs Fitness. We’re looking to hire two new people on a part time basis. One for day shift and one for evening shift.”
I already know what her schedule preference is because I’ve basically memorized her resume by now. She lives nearby and she’s a substitute teacher for a private school. She applied for the evening shift so she can work after her day job. I pretend to read over the paper. “Looks like you want evening shift?”
She nods. “Yes, sir. I work full time during the day, but I get off at three p.m. so I could be here by 3:30.”
She’s calling me Sir, which means she doesn’t see me as anything other than a potential boss. That’s good, I guess. No crushing on her part. No crushing on mine. At least…that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.
“Evening shift would start at four,” I say. “Typically it’ll go until ten or eleven at night but if that’s too late—”
“It’s not,” she says quickly. “I can work whenever.” She tucks her hair behind her ears. “Well…I can work from four until whenever,” she says with a grin.
I nod. “Sounds good to me. Let me tell you about the job.”
She listens intently, her blue eyes never leaving mine while I tell her about the job. She’s polite and kind and interviews better than anyone else did today. She also doesn’t seem nervous, which is totally sexy. This girl is confident and beautiful and will make an excellent addition to our team.
I want to hire her right here, right now.
But I also have to follow protocol, so I tell her the same thing I told Jon. That the other two owners of the business need to join us for a second interview and agree to hire her.
“Do you think you could come back tomorrow around the same time for a brief second interview?”
“Absolutely,” she says.
I stand up and shake her hand again. “It was really great meeting you.”
Her smile is something out of a fairytale. All bright and sunny and so beautiful it lights up the entire office. “It was great meeting you too,” she says.
And I know she’s just being polite. But way deep down, I wish she meant something else with her kind words—something special.
2
Tasha
I walk out of Roca Springs Fitness feeling pretty good about my interview. I mean, I’m super nervous and my anxiety is really high, but besides that, it felt like it went well. I think I had impressive answers to all of the questions because I spent a lot of time researching how to ace an interview. Not only do I really need this job, the gym seems like a great place to work. Plus, it’s close to home so I wouldn’t waste much time or gas money getting here each day. And the hours are so perfect it’s almost like fate. Four to ten p.m. Monday through Friday? It’s perfect. That’s an extra thirty two hours of paid work a week, plus I’d still get weekends off.
My eyes tilt up toward the sky as I say a silent please, please, please to whoever is listening way up there in the clouds. Please let me get this job. With the extra money I’d be earning, I might finally be able to afford a two bedroom apartment.
Then I could have my own bedroom again. And a bed. And some privacy, should I ever happen to get a boyfriend.
I snort to myself as I climb in my car and start it up. A boyfriend? I can’t even fathom that right now. My life is too busy for boyfriends. Too complicated and messy and just overflowing with emotional baggage. And actual baggage in the form of a sixteen year old. Janie is my niece, but she might as well be my kid since I’m her guardian now. Guys don’t want messy relationships like that.
Not good guys, anyway. The sleazy guys who only want hookups are more than happy to hit on me when they know my situation. But those aren’t the kind of guys I care to be around. I’m not a hookup person in any shape or form. I’m a long term relationship type of girl. I’m a hopeless romantic who lives for those sweet romance movies on TV. I want love, and a soulmate and someone who is also my best friend. And I’m just not going to find that any time soon, not with my messy complicated life.
It’s been eight months since I got that call from the social worker. My older sister was back in jail, for the third time in her life. The drug addiction finally ruined her, and now she’ll be in there for at least ten years without parole. The social worker wanted to know if I’d be able to take my sixteen year old niece. At first I thought it would be impossible. I’m only eight years older than she is, and my apartment is teensy tiny. But the alternative was to send her into the system, which meant group homes and foster parents, and I couldn’t do that. It’s not Janie’s problem that her mom sucks. She deserves to be with family. And I’m the only family she’s got.
Now we share my apartment, and I’ve given her my bedroom. I thought having her own bedroom would help her feel more at home, and more wanted if she had a real bed to sleep in. I sleep on the couch and keep all my stuff stored in shelves and a dresser in the
living room. I’ve been trying to get us a bigger place for the last eight months, but rent is expensive.
If I get this job, everything will be better. Of course, if I could go back to school and finally finish my teaching degree, things would be a whole lot better. But there’s no money or time for that right now. We’re just trying to survive.
I drive home trying to remember what’s in the pantry. I guess we’ll have sandwiches for dinner tonight. I haven’t cooked much in a while because all my favorite meals are expensive and time consuming and I just don’t have it in me right now. I would kill for a delicious meal one of these days, but peanut butter and jelly will have to do.
When I get home, I turn up the volume on my phone and set it on the counter. If someone calls, I want to be sure to hear it. I know Noah had told me to come in tomorrow for a second interview, but I keep hoping that maybe he’ll call and just offer me the job now. Maybe he’ll say I can start work tomorrow. Maybe life will throw me a bone after all this time and make something good happen for once.
“Hey,” I tell Janie when she emerges from her room a few minutes later.
My niece is short like her biological father. She’s never known the man, but I did meet him a couple of times when he was dating my sister. He was a loser and it’s probably for the best that he didn’t stick around. He’s who got her mom hooked on drugs, after all. But she got his short genetics, along with his blue eyes. Janie’s long brown hair though, is all from my side of the family. Right now she has strands of pink hair scattered through the brown after she begged me to let her dye it with her friends from school.
Flirting with the Boss: A love at the Gym Novel Page 1
