Weight Expectations: Cipher Office Book #1

by M. E. Carter

  I raise one eyebrow. “No.” I actually do, but I’m really curious about how her thought process works and what her opinions are. Internally, I’m trying to convince myself that it’s all about knowing my employees, but I’m doing a terrible job at it. Reality is, I enjoy being around her. I like hearing her talk and her ideas. This is not something I anticipated when I offered her the job.

  Okay, that last part might be a lie. I may have had an inkling of interest that night we all went to dinner. But Rian isn’t my type and I don’t do relationships, so I’m not about to throw gossip and drama into the office mix.

  “Hmm,” she responds. “I guess I sound a little off my rocker when I put it that way.” She waves her hand like she’s erasing her last statement from the air around her. “My point is that I really love it here already.”

  “I’m glad. It’s not going to be all socializing and having fun though. We work hard around here,” I say, because my boss persona is feeling the need to put up some boundaries seeing as I’m enjoying watching her way too much.

  “Oh, I know. And I’ll be ready, I promise.” Her face goes from serious to confused. “The only thing I can’t figure out is what Code Pink means. Whenever it happens, everyone gets this scared look on their faces and they all stop talking and pretend they need to use the bathroom, or they need coffee.”

  I can’t help it. I throw my head back and laugh. I can imagine exactly how we all look when our secret code goes out over the intercom. For someone not privy to the information, I’m sure it’s nothing less than entertaining.

  Wiping a tear from my eye, I do my best to explain. “You met our boss Quinn during your interview. He came barreling in, probably talking about yarn or something.”

  She nods. “Yeah. Did he check the website I recommended?”

  “No idea. He’s not exactly in his right mind right now.”

  She cocks her head and furrows her brow but doesn’t say anything.

  “His wife, Janie, is pregnant with their first and has been put on bedrest. Let’s just say, he’s not handling it well. So, whenever we see him heading this way on the security cameras, a Code Pink goes out to give everyone a heads up to make themselves scarce.”

  “Aww. He’s just excited to be a daddy.”

  “Oh, no.” I shake my head vehemently. “It goes beyond normal new daddy excitement. I’m pretty sure the guys in security are trying to convince Janie to lace his dinner with Valium.”

  Rian laughs. “Sounds like my bridezilla sister.”

  “So, you have experience with this kind of thing. Great! I’ll make sure all his calls are transferred to you from now on.”

  Her jaw drops open. “I don’t think you can trust me with that kind of responsibility yet, Carlos. I mean, I’ve only been here two days.”

  “Considering his wife is who will be training you on our current clients, I feel like you can handle it.”

  “Well, look how that worked out.” Rian purses her lips, clearly unamused. It makes me laugh again and soon she’s joining me.

  “Oh, yeah. You’re going to fit in great around here.”

  She smiles brightly at my comment, and I can’t help feeling good about making her feel good. Weird. I’m not opposed to giving compliments to people when they’re deserved, but I find myself wanting to give her more, so she keeps looking like that.

  “Hey, can I ask you a personal question?”

  Aaaaaand, my defenses go up. I’m not opposed to knowing the people in my office, but I have no interest in them knowing much personal stuff about me. First, because I’m the boss. And second, because it makes me uncomfortable to get that close to most people. But, it’s Rian. Somehow, her intensions feel trustworthy. I’m not sure why, but I might as well find out.

  “Um.” I clear my throat trying to dislodge my discomfort. “Sure, I suppose.”

  “Which gym are you going to until they rebuild ours?”

  The pressure in my chest deflates as quickly as it came.

  “That’s not exactly a personal question.”

  She shrugs. “It’s not office related.”

  She has a point. “I thought you were going to ask about my childhood or boxers or briefs or something.”

  What the hell was that? Why would I ask that? Apparently, I need to reevaluate my own meds because, clearly, I can’t think when I’m around this woman. But in true Rian fashion, or so I’m learning, quick wit and sarcasm are her comfort zone so my inappropriate statement in the workplace is thankfully brushed off.

  “Those aren’t personal questions. Those are best left for when you’re lying on your therapist’s couch. Although, I recommend not getting too comfortable on that couch and keeping your pants on.”

  “Noted,” I say and quickly move the conversation back to where it should have been all along. “There’s another Weight Expectations location not too far from here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You take the El to get there, but it’s only one stop north.”

  She grimaces. And not just a small flash of expression. No. She is clearly revulsed by the idea of taking the El.

  “I mean, you can probably drive there if you want.”

  “No, it’s not that. Getting there is okay. But having to take the El on the way back? After working out? That’s so gross.”

  “So what? You’ll fit in with all the other people who smell on public transportation.”

  She laughs through her nose. “That makes it so much better.”

  “The other option is pretty ingenious.” I lean in closer so I can lower my voice. “You could always shower there before you leave.”

  Rian mimics my position and leans in closer as well. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Both feeling amused, we pull back and I go back to leaning against the desk.

  “I think I’d rather contribute to the odor problem on the train. We both know what I look like not-so-freshly showered at the gym. Drowned rat isn’t my best look.”

  Suddenly, I’m assaulted with images of her standing outside the gym—in just a towel, with the skin of her side on display as she tries to blend into the background; wearing my shirt, determined to stay strong and unashamed; talking with a fire official who helped her sort through the remnants of car and house keys they eventually found inside the building.

  The images are clear as day, and I’m stumped as to why I’d have such a strong reaction. Is it because it was a traumatic event? Is it because I’ve had more than one person send me pictures asking about my involvement? Or is it just because it’s Rian? In a towel. And nothing else.

  Huh. I need to figure this out quick. Or maybe I just need to be an overly encouraging boss and invite her to come with me. You know… so she doesn’t get stuck going alone. Because that’s the polite thing to do.

  “So, listen,” I begin, but we both get sidetracked when Nancy, our HR director’s office door swings open more forcefully than normal. Probably because a behemoth of a man just opened it.

  He’s easily over six feet and has a confident swagger as he buttons his well-tailored suit, canvas and leather photojournalist bag slung over his shoulder. Not to mention, he’s got a jawline that looks like it’s been chiseled straight out of the finest black marble. Personally, I hadn’t noticed that part until Teresa mentioned it. Twice.

  Right on cue, the office essentially stops, every single woman in the room staring at him, jaws agape. Rian included.

  This shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. Gabriel doesn’t even work here yet, but he will if I want to keep my track record intact, and he’s already become the next most eligible bachelor, with all his attention being vied for.

  And yes, he’s most definitely eligible. Nancy sent me over all his information before his interview that obviously just ended. Legally, we can’t ask if our employees are in relationships, but in our line of work, particularly the security side, we don’t frown on them volunteering the information. O
ur background checks would eventually pick up on it anyway, so it just expedites the process. Plus, it’s always good to know there is next of kin in the very unlikely event something goes wrong on a job.

  Pausing briefly, Gabriel looks around the room at all his admirers. I’m sure it’s not the first time it’s happened so he very smoothly, channels an Idris Elba smolder. “Ladies.” He nods in greeting, his British accent ringing out for everyone to hear.

  Teresa, who just happens to be in the vicinity when the door opens, should be grateful she’s walking by a chair, because her legs literally give out and she collapses into said chair as she watches him walk away.

  My mood continues to sour. I don’t have a thing for Teresa, but I still don’t appreciate her collapsing dramatically in the office. Quinn needs to stop recommending attractive employees. I have no room in the budget for smelling salts.

  Glancing down at Rian again, I see that she’s still staring and following Gabriel with her eyes. Since she’s distracted, I don’t bother with good-byes. I just walk away.

  This is one of the many reasons why I don’t date people in the office. It’s not just because I’m the boss or because a bad breakup in the office place could end up being a volatile situation. It’s because I work for a freaking GQ magazine. Every single man who works here is buff, beautiful, and practically a genius. I can hold my own, but I’ll never measure up to what these guys are.

  Looks like my mother was right. I don’t have any desire to be someone’s relationship placeholder. Not even for Rian.

  Chapter Nineteen

  RIAN

  Carlos disappeared in the middle of our conversation at work, which I found kind of odd. I chalked it up to him wasting too much time chatting with me when he had actual boss stuff to do. Still, I was a bit disappointed. I was enjoying talking to him. He’s not nearly as smarmy as I originally pegged him to be. I think. At least he doesn’t come across that way at the office. I’m still unclear if I’m on his list of people he talks to outside of the office, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. We never were friends, just friendly acquaintances, and even that description is pushing it.

  Still, it was weird feeling disappointed about his absence. He wasn’t really absent, just in his office, but I kind of—dare I say it—missed him. I know, I know. This is the same guy who has looked through me more than once at the smoothie bar. But it feels like something has changed. Shifted. He seems to go out of his way to talk to me now, which I like. My heart speeds up just a bit when he’s near me and little butterflies seem to hatch in my stomach. I’m not sure if it’s just the excitement that comes with having a new friend or something more, but it’s a bit disconcerting, and I’m trying not to think about it too much. I’d rather not be disappointed later.

  Once I settled down from my conflicting feelings, his disappearing act left me some time to contemplate my after-work plans and I finally caved. As soon as I clocked out, I took the El one stop to a different location of Weight Expectations just like Carlos had suggested. I really, really considered not coming at all, but now that I don’t have a cooking buddy, I’m more afraid of falling off the wagon than trying out a new facility. I’ve made too much progress in creating new habits to backpedal now. Well, not on the scale. That hasn’t moved much, the bastard. But I have noticed my skin looks smoother, I don’t get winded as easily, and, shock of all shocks, I enjoy a good mashed cauliflower.

  Francesca’s recipe may have started my obsession, but I did a little veggie stalking of my own. Did you know you can mash it and make it into a pizza crust? I had no idea! Now I’m curious what I can do with other vegetables. I might even try cooking with kale next.

  I know. Things are definitely getting crazy in my world.

  Maybe I need to make a doctor’s appointment to see if I have the flu. Craving healthy food clearly indicates some sort of medical emergency, doesn’t it?

  In lieu of those results, though, I ventured to the train station after work, took my five-minute ride, and ended up here. At the Mall of America’s version of Weight Expectations.

  I’m not kidding. The building alone is at least three times as big as the one I’m used to, and I’m almost positive there is some sort of pain-inducing exercise machine disguised as a roller coaster somewhere in this madness. Because that would be my luck. I’d be hanging out, enjoying the ride, when… SURPRISE! Time to do squats. I can practically hear Abel’s maniacal laugh over it now.

  Even the locker room here is bigger. I thought there were enough shower stalls at Firehouse Grill, which is how I lovingly refer to my original location. Man, was I wrong. There are dozens of individual showers. Each of them comes complete with their own door. A DOOR! There are no magnetic curtains to fight with, so it sticks to the wall instead of to itself at the bottom. Nope. Here, a tiny click of the latch behind you means you are safe and secure in your own little stall, which is gloriously bigger than the other ones, no contortionism needed. I bet no one had to flash their boobs around here to take a peaceful shower.

  Wait! Forget I said that, Universe! I’m not complaining, I swear! Please don’t throw me out on the street in a towel again…

  Wandering through the room, even with my negativism, I must admit, the setup is impressive. Downstairs houses all offices, the childcare center which is practically the size of my former elementary school, basketball and racquetball courts, and even a huge café. Tabitha is either going to be excited to work in such a fancy place, or she’s going to be pissed she lost control by not being in her own little smoothie bar. It remains to be determined.

  The upstairs has everything else. All the weights. All the studio classrooms. All the equipment. And all the treadmills.

  Holy cow, there are so many treadmills. There’s probably double the number there were at the old place. And they’re newer. Sleeker. Fancier. Almost all of them come complete with a tiny, pretty woman with perky boobs wearing a sports bra as a shirt. Well, except that one guy whose sparkly shirt is only slightly bigger than a sports bra. But at least it matches his sparkly headband.

  Awesome. Not only am I never going to be able to figure these things out, but I’m going to look like a puffalump next to all these other people. I’ve got to try, though. Rian Thompson is no quitter! Well, except that time I joined the summer swim team. But it wasn’t my fault! No one told me until after my registration was already paid that practice started at seven in the morning over summer break. So really, I didn’t quit. I was tricked. Two totally different things.

  Finding the lone, unused treadmill amidst the sea of bouncing boobs is a bit of a challenge, but I’m finally climbing up on the machine, ready to get my workout set to go. Except…

  What the hell kind of treadmill is this? There are no buttons anywhere and no indication if the thing is on or not. Maybe it’s not plugged in?

  Climbing back off, I find the cord and follow it to verify the existence of electricity. Yep. It’s there. So, I climb back on before anyone thinks the machine is available for use. Looking around, I hope someone notices and takes pity on me. But no. No one seems to notice my struggle. Or maybe they’re ignoring me. Either way, no assistance is offered, and I still can’t figure this damn thing out. Seriously, is it broken? Maybe there’s a switch hiding on the back that needs to be flipped.

  Climbing back off, I search every part of the machine for something that might lead me to success. And by success, I mean, the ability to even begin. Forget going fast. Let’s just… go.

  I climb back on, recognizing that if I keep this up, my entire workout is going to consist of stepping on and off this thing. Just my luck—stair-climbing is my least favorite workout ever.

  Hands on my hips, I cock my head to the side and glare at it. “What is the matter with you?” I grumble.

  “I feel like we’ve done this before.”

  I startle and throw my hand over my heart. “Ohmygod, Abel, you scared me.” And kind of pisses me off. No one noticed when I was struggling, but suddenly, n
ow that a hot trainer is standing over here, all eyes are on us.

  “I’d say I was sorry, but the look on your face kind of made my day.”

  “Your life must be super boring if I’m that entertaining.”

  He shrugs. “Could be worse. Things could be so exciting I could live on the other side of bat-shit crazy.”

  “Point made. Are we going to have our regular weightlifting class here anytime soon?” I already got the email about it from him, but since I’m behind schedule, I might as well procrastinate more. Can’t let Abel get too complacent.

  “You already know the answer to that, so let’s not start a bullshit conversation in the name of avoidance, okay?” He leans over and touches the screen in front of me, bringing my machine to life.

  Drat. Foiled again. And also… made a fool of.

  “How the hell did you do that?” I exclaim, looking all around the machine again. Seriously. I literally heard a motor start whirring as soon as his finger touched the screen.

  He chuckles lightly. “It’s a touchscreen. No buttons needed. You control it all up here.”

  Sure enough, as he emphasizes the word “here”, it jerks beneath me and off I go.

  “Intervals today, right?”

  I nod and get my footing. As much as I enjoy Abel’s company, though, part of me wishes he would go away so I didn’t have an audience. I know there were a few gym bunnies at the old place, but they’re everywhere here. Someone is liable to get hurt if they can’t concentrate on what they’re doing.

  “Abel, I think you need to go somewhere else.”

  Oddly, his face falls and he looks like I kicked his puppy. “Why?”

  I make a show of looking around. “You’re fresh meat, man. The new guy on campus. These women are going to be on you like white on rice, ooohhhh…. Cauliflower rice!” I snap my fingers together, because that is the best idea I’ve had today! I wonder how long it takes to cook. I need to look that up. “Does this monitor have wifi? I need to look up a recipe,” I ask absentmindedly.