Page 7 of Muffin Top
"Dude, I would be the best matchmaker in history."
I rolled my eyes, chuckling. "Yeah, right."
???
Any warmth the afternoon sunlight may have been trying to produce was hidden by clouds that muddied the sky. The smell of rain hung heavy in the air, though we'd yet to receive a drop.
I looked up at the storefront of Honey's clinic. I'd taken Caleb's offer, leaving early to have a nap and shower. I now found myself wandering East street, counting down the minutes until her clinic closed. I knew she was still there; Caleb had fed me the intel. His girlfriend a surprisingly perfect source on Honey-related matters.
Capricorn Physical Therapy and Sports Clinic scrawled in thick black professional looking letters across the glass frontage. The clinic itself was painted blue and white, fitting in nicely with the fancy heritage boutiques on either side. Like most of the other storefronts in town, it held a themed window display. I barked out a laugh, taking in the skeleton with one leg propped on a jack-o-lantern stretching, a ghost sitting on a fitness ball, and a werewolf in child's pose on a yoga mat.
Some things had changed since coming home, it seemed Honey wasn't one of them. She'd decorated her locker every season, had been on every school decorating committee – hell, even her lunch boxes had been themed. Back at school I’d noticed things like that. Her lunch boxes, how she often wore clothing and jewelry that reflected her moods – mostly sunshine. I’d enjoyed watching her, enjoyed watching her smile and laugh and occasionally feeling that warmth directed my way.
A memory snuck up, an image of Honey dutifully hanging love hearts all over her locker. Valentine's Day, senior year. I'd finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. The card sat heavy in my back pocket; my sweaty palms pressed into the pockets on my jeans as I tried to casually stroll towards her. Her eyes lit and she gave me a smile, her hand coming up to offer a little wave when she saw me.
My heart beat faster, my tongue now feeling dry and far too large for my mouth. I swallowed, unable to get the words out. I'd wanted to pause, lean against the locker beside her then ask her out. Instead I'd offered her what I think was more of a grimace than a smile, and strode straight passed. I'd never tried again.
You were a fucking chicken.
I couldn't deny the accusation. Sure, I'd been class president, captain of the football team, and voted nicest guy in our class. But I'd also been exactly that – a nice guy. And nice guys finished last. It hadn't helped that I'd had a monobrow, buck teeth and acne. Sure, I'd been popular, but I'd never felt attractive enough to ask out the women I'd crushed on the most. And fuck I'd crushed on Honey Jameson.
A little over a decade later, my looks were no longer questionable. A few years of braces (after getting decent health care), and a regular wax of the old eyebrows had left me feeling better about my appearance than that self-conscious kid I'd left behind.
The backdrop for the picture window moved. It bobbled for a second then slowly lifted, revealing Honey, inch by beautiful inch. Her bottom half was encased in skintight Halloween themed sports leggings – cheerful dancing skeletons covering her thick legs. The top was a black professional polo shirt with the clinic's logo embroidered on the breast. She'd pulled her blond hair back into a messy high ponytail, a few strands had slipped free, falling gently around her face.
She blinked, catching me standing there watching her. A grin spread across her face, lighting her eyes. She made a come here hand gesture nodding towards the door then winced slightly, her hand immediately going up to the nape of her neck.
Frowning at her discomfort, I made my way around.
Whiplash? If so, why is she at work?
She met me at the door, welcoming grin firmly in place.
"Sheriff, come on in." She swept a hand out to encompass the waiting room. "Welcome to my humble empire."
The outside mimicked the rest of the street. White and blue weatherboard mixed with brick and class. I'd expected the inside to have the same traditional beach cottage feel. Instead, it felt like stepping into an exclusive day spa. Soft lighting, wood floors and bronze highlights, mixed with lush greenery and calming seascape graphics. A diffuser sat on the reception desk, quietly misting a citrus and lemongrass scent into the air, while relaxing rainforest sounds played softly in the background.
"Wow," I paused in the center of the room, taking in the impressive set-up. "This is incredible."
She flushed, looking pleased. "It's taken me a while to get here but it's nearly exactly as I want it. We're whole of body – we do physical therapy, help people bounce back from injuries or recover from poor health, but we also do relaxation. I find that patients respond better when they're calm and in the right mindset." She rolled her shoulders, wincing a little.
"You okay?"
She sighed, offering a rueful smile. "Tight. I'd normally ask one of my therapists to loosen me up, but Collins is off sick, and Rowan is on vacation. Between me and Shandra, we've had a full workload today." She turned to the hall. "Come on, I'll show you around."
Honey lead me through the clinic, pointing out the three treatment rooms, one exam room, and the small office which had a kitchenette and toilet off the side. At the back of the hall were two large rooms, separated by a thick soundproof wall.
"This is our exercise room." Large windows let in light, while exercise equipment such as weights, treadmills and stationary bikes sat in straight lines. She flicked the lights off, leading me into the next room.
With her hand on the door handle, Honey turned giving me bright eyes and a huge smile. "This is our newest build. We've only been operating this space for the last three months but I'm really excited to be offering our clients Pilates and yoga classes. We've also just hired a trained mindfulness coach to offer meditation courses. We've offered a few courses now and have been overwhelmed by the response."
Taking a subtle deep breath, she opened the door, flicking on a light switch. Soft lighting gently warmed the room. Wood floors, warm colors, tall windows – currently covered by the same roller blinds as at front of the clinic.
"Has a good feel." I walked in, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and lavender. This place felt calming, and I could immediately tell this meant a lot to her. "Why did you expand?"
She walked over to the diffuser that sat on one of the small inbuilt wall platforms, turning it off. As she walked around the room, doing the same with the other two she softly spoke, revealing her passion for her patients and her work.
"Our client's minds are just as important as their bodies. The mind can be just as essential at healing the body as any exercise I encourage my patients to do. But if you come to my clinic stressed, tight or worried, no massage or stretch or exercise will give you relief. So, we decided to expand and offer these classes. Try and give people the mental tools at the same time we give them the physical."
