Page 12 of Drawn to You
Mason Meyer comes out of the yoga room and walks to Brittney. He speaks to her for a second, and Brittney looks around to find me.
I excuse myself from Martha and head toward them.
“How may I help you, Mason?”
“Oh, I’m just asking whether Brittney could help me with a yoga pose.”
“I’m afraid she can’t,” I say, unable to conceal my agitation. What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Does he have amnesia or something? I said no to that just minutes ago. “But I could help you with it.”
“Are you sure?” Mason asks, eyeing Martha at the climbing machine. “You were helping someone else.”
“Just give me a second. I’ll be done with her in a few minutes.”
“I’m afraid I can’t wait, Andrew. I have an appointment at noon and I need a shower after the workout.”
Brittney stands up. “I don’t mind helping Mr. Meyer. All he needs is someone to push his back.”
I consider. “She’s not a trainer,” I say to Meyer.
“I know I know. Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask her to do anything she can’t handle. I only need her to give me a little push when I do the Seated Forward Bend.”
I consider for a moment. It sounds like a harmless request, and I don’t want to be difficult to a customer. So I nod and say to Brittney, “Let me know if you can’t handle it.”
I watch Brittney follow Mason into the Yoga room, which is empty at the moment. I have a feeling the guy is up to no good, and my heart is in my mouth.
After I return to Martha, every second is unbearable to me. My mind is in the yoga room. My ears perk up and I’m ready to run to her if I hear any sound coming out of it.
Finally, Martha gets off the machine. Thank God. I excuse myself right away.
As soon as I enter the yoga room, my nostrils flare.
There, Mason is lying on the ground, but not doing the Seated Forward Bend as he claimed. He’s doing sit-ups. Brittney isn’t standing behind him to push his back either, but kneeling in front of him, pressing his feet on the ground while counting. At first, it doesn’t look too bad, but when the guy gets up, he can glimpse her cleavage. I’m sure of it!
“Brittney,” I say in a volume louder than I intend. “I’ve got him. Please return to the front desk.”
She doesn’t respond to me but nods at me and continues to count, “forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty! You did it!”
“Thanks, Brittney. You’ve been a great help. I’ve never been able to get to fifty before,” Mason says while panting. He swaps a high-five with Brittney before lying down on the ground to rest.
Obviously, you’re motivated, fucker. The thought that he’s peeped at Britt’s chest fifty times already makes my gut burn with rage. “Get back to your desk,” I order Brittney, and she promptly does what I say.
“I should be able to get some six-pack if I kept doing this for a month, right?” Mason asks me when I get to his side.
I resist my urge to sneer at him. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but the sit-ups are the least effective exercise to build abs. You need to do crunches, squats, and planks. You want me to show you how?”
“No, thanks.” He shakes his head and says weakly. “I’ve done enough for the day. I just need to rest a bit before I shower.”
I leave him alone and follow Brittney. “Hey,” I say to her once we get to the front of the gym. I grab her hand and pull her into my office. “I need to speak to you for a sec.”
“Why?” she asks with widened eyes when I close the door behind us. “Did I do anything wrong?”
“Yes,” I say. “You shouldn’t have agreed to help out the creep.”
Her mouth drops. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t know you disliked him. I was just trying to please a customer.”
I regret losing my temper, but I can’t bring myself to soften my tone. “You are not a trainer. Get it? You’re my personal assistant and occasionally a receptionist. Nothing more.”
“But you told me I would need to help out in the gym if needed,” she says, looking hurt.
