Page 10 of Drawn to You
She’s right, and I’m about to tell her that Stephanie is a part-time actress, but I don’t because she looks upset. Could she be jealous? No way. I stifle a laugh. “You have an impressive body, Britt.”
Her mouth opens. “How do you know?”
“I can see it through your clothes.” I tease her.
Her face turns crimson. “They aren’t see-through, are they?”
“No,” I chuckle. “I can see your curves, and they look good.”
“Thank you.” Her voice becomes husky. “I like your curves… I mean your muscles, too.”
Blood rushes to my thighs. I inhale deeply to keep calm. “Great, we are even, then?”
She nods with a smile. “By the way, Stephanie is right. You look better with scruff.”
Does she mean it? My cock swells at her words. “You like it too? Okay. I’ll grow it back.”
I enter the gym's parking on autopilot because my mind is not in my head and is fixed on the little nymph next to me. The moment we approach the gym, however, I pull myself together. It won’t work between Brittney and me—I’m her boss, and she’s my sister’s friend. Things could turn ugly, and I’ve got to prevent any mess from taking place.
An idea quickly forms in my head. I should avoid driving with her altogether. Better yet, we should have different working shifts.
Chapter 5
Brittney
We arrive at Model Body at ten minutes to nine. It’s the end of the morning rush hour, and more clients are going out than coming in. Andrew explains that while most people use the gym before nine in the mornings or after four in the afternoons, he has many clients in the entertainment industry. They use the gym throughout the day in unpredictable hours.
While Andrew talks to one of the trainers, I drop off my purse at the front desk and turn on the computer.
Although we bantered our way to work earlier, I enjoyed the ride. I guess my comments about Stephanie annoyed him, and I regret it. I had no business sticking my nose into his personal affair. Andrew is a good-looking and friendly guy and has always been popular in our hometown. I’ve seen him dating many pretty girls over the years, but the funny thing is I’ve never been jealous. It was very much like watching a celebrity having different girlfriends all the time. It would be crazy to be jealous because I didn’t have a chance, anyway. But now, working close to him and living under the same roof with him give me a false sense of possession. I have to pull myself together. Andrew is just my boss, and I’m not living with him. I’m staying in his house temporarily.
But it’s easier said than done. Even at the very moment when he stands a few feet away from me, his cologne does funny things to my body.
“Here is the jacket,” he says, holding a lightweight denim jacket in hand.
“Thanks,” I say. I’m glad I took his advice to change into pants because it feels colder here than the day before. “I don’t need it yet, but I’ll wear it when it gets cold.”
I take the jacket, resisting the urge to sniff it, and drape it on the chair I’m sitting on. Like in the previous day, I’ll be both the receptionist and Andrew’s PA until Jennifer comes in.
Andrew shows me how to generate client fitness progress reports. Every time after a member’s visit, the personal trainer records his weight and body measurements to see the result of the exercise program.
“It’s time-consuming, and it’s something only a boutique gym can afford to do,” he says. “But it’s worth it because that’s how our members get motivated.”
He also shows me how to check members’ attendance and send them reminders if they haven’t been here for a while. “It’s better to send them text messages than emails because most of them don’t check emails often,” he explains.
While training me on the business operation's technical aspects, Andrew emphasizes the importance of customer service. “Don’t say no to a member unless they’re utterly unreasonable. Make accommodations to make them happy. We’re not just a gym; we’re a friendly community.”
I nod, secretly admiring his business skills. I’m familiar with these customer service principles, but Andrew wasn’t a business major, so he must’ve learned everything on his own.
It’s late morning. I’m sitting alone at the front desk and working on membership management when the front entrance door opens, and a tall, lean man in a tight t-shirt and yoga pants strolls in.
I stand up immediately, getting ready to greet him.
When he gets closer, I almost gasp. He’s Mason Meyer, a top-ten pop singer during my high school years. Although he went out of favor in recent years, he was so popular back then that every girl I knew had a crush on him. I wasn’t an exception. I had his poster in my bedroom until I started college. Although I’m no longer that gaga teenager, and Mason Meyer isn’t as cute as he was before, seeing the star in person still sends a shiver down my spine.
“Welcome to… the gym, I mean… Model Body.” I’m so star-struck that I take a moment to recall the name of the place.
Mason Meyer’s bright grey eyes roam over me for a second, and he smiles warmly. “Good morning to you too. I’m Mason. Nice to meet you!” He extends a hand for me to shake.
