Page 29 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
Matt is grunting.
And there is no end in sight.
“Git it, gurl! Git it!” he shouts gleefully while sweat beads fly from his glistening skin.
“If you say, ‘git it, gurl’ one more time,” I wheeze, “I promise I’ll murder you.” I throw his heavy-ass medicine ball up the wall for what must be the hundredth rep and lower into a squat and—by some miracle—I catch it.
Reps. Apparently, that’s what they call repetitions in this hellscape better known as Bossfit. In fact, everything in this gym seems to have a cutesy little name. Right now, we’re doing an RFT, or “rounds for time.” It’s like a competition with yourself where you do a series of different exercises as fast as you can to beat your previous score. Here’s the thing, though: I don’t have a previous score. Even if I did, I don’t think I’d care one bit about besting it. All I care about is making it out of this workout alive, which is looking less and less likely.
“Woo-hoo, Penny! Woo-hoo!”
Keira.
That girl is dead to me.
After all, she’s the one who got me into this mess.
And now there she stands, her breathing steady, not a drop of sweat on her, cheering me on while she films her little videos.
“You’re dead to me!” I wheeze. Never let it be said that I don’t speak my mind.
“And… time!” Matt shouts and clicks a button on his stopwatch.
I collapse on the floor, my chest heaving, and lie flat on my back.
“It’s sweat angel time!” Matt yells and lies down beside me.
Sweat angel time? Gross.
“Is this normal?” I pant. “Should I be this out of breath?”
“Totally. If you don’t feel like your life is ending, you’re probably not working hard enough.”
“That seems unhealthy.” I try not to focus on the fact that he’s so close now I could touch him. I just continue staring up at the cavernous warehouse ceiling.
“I’m kidding. Mostly.” He chuckles. “Seriously, though, are you okay? It’s great to get your heart rate up and challenge yourself, but pushing past your limits isn’t exactly what we’re aiming for here. I’m sorry if I took it too far.”
“Whatever.” I work to slow my breath. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” His deep voice rumbles my way, and dammit, it does something to me.
I finally turn my head to look at him. His face is so close. And so… beautiful. Gosh, those eyes. They’re something else. Green with little flecks of gold in them. A girl could get lost in eyes like these. Somehow, his breath is steady and still minty and cool even after that ridiculous workout. It caresses and soothes my overheated skin.
What the hell am I doing right now?
“What, um, what do you use that space for?” I point at a staircase that leads to what looks like a separate room upstairs. I can’t say I’m all that interested in his answer, but I need to break this tension between us.
Eugene, who’s been relatively quiet until now, chimes in, “Oh, that? That’s where Matt enjoys his daily ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven.’”
“His what?” I squeak.
“It’s not what it sounds like,” Matt says, still lying on the floor beside me, flashing me what I’m now realizing is his trademark grin.
“Gosh, you two look good together.” Keira is hovering above us, still filming. “Shoot. Did I say that out loud?”
“Alright! I’m getting up,” I groan.
“You sure you’re okay?” Matt asks again.
