Page 15 of Fit for Love

“I’m also a mutt.According to a DNA test, I have some Russian, Native American, English, German, and Irish in me.”

“Do you know any other languages?”

“I took Spanish in school, but don’t ask me to say anything.”

He flashes a white grin.“I wouldn’t be so cruel.”

Damn it.He’s done nothing sensual in the last minute, nor has he said anything profound, but I’m falling deeper and deeper into this romantic rabbit hole of a date.

Grabbing my now-cooled chamomile tea, I gulp it in desperation.

This is it.

I see two unequal options playing out in front of me.One—the less likely—is that this tea will magically calm me down.

The other—and way more likely—is that I’ll end up in his bed by the end of the night.

Chapter6

Ashton

When I waitedfor Kendall outside the gym, I was confident I’d be able to coax her to go on a date with me, but I had no idea I’d have such a great time on said date.

Or that I’d be this fucking turned on.

No.Scratch that.The latter doesn’t surprise me, not after that workout.

“You mentioned college,” she says.“What did you major in?”

Fuck.This isn’t my favorite topic.“My undergraduate degree is in economics.”

No.Wait.Why did I say “undergraduate?”Obviously, she’ll?—

“You went to grad school as well?”

She sounds impressed, and I only have myself to blame.

“Business school,” I admit reluctantly.“But I’m taking a break from it.”

“Taking a break” sounds better than “dropped out of my MBA program,” right?

She cocks her head.“When are you going back to it?”

My smile is forced.“You sound like my parents,” I say, trying to keep it light.

I should’ve guessed she’d be one of those women who think being a personal trainer is not a real job.

Even in the gym uniform, she looked like a million bucks.Dressed in street clothes, she’s the epitome of high fashion, one of those effortlessly stylish women you encounter in the Hamptons or on the Upper West Side.Or in my parents’ circle—but that’s not an association I want to have with her.

Either way, she probably dates investment bankers, doctors, and lawyers, not gym trainers like myself.

Kendall must pick up on some tension because she winces and says, “Sorry, didn’t mean to touch a sore spot.”

I shrug and take a deep breath, ready to change the subject.“What about you?What was your major?”

I don’t bother asking if she’s gone to college.Everything about her screams it.

“Fashion design,” she says.“And I just applied for an MFA program in the same thing.”

---