Page 7 of You Can't Ruin Christmas

Chapter Four

The sound of a shrill whistle makes me sit up abruptly in bed.

The sunlight hits me at full force, because somehow, the curtains have been drawn fully open. I clutch my head groaning and smashing my eyelids closed, but it is too late, and my temple is throbbing.

The whistle sounds again, and I wince as my head pounds even harder.

“What’s going on?” I grumble. I am absolutelynota morning person.

“It’s time to begin,” says a masculine voice.

I carefully squint one eye open, and see that Sven is standing at the foot of my bed, wearing workout attire.

“Begin what?” I ask.

“Begin building yourBODY BY SVEN!”he responds.

Groaning, I fall back to the pillow and pull my blanket over my face. “Do you do this whole whistle thing to all your clients?”

“Only you,” he says. “You’re special.”

That makes me smile, and I’m glad the blanket is covering my face. I pull it down slightly to reveal only my eyes. “Okay, drill sergeant. What’s the plan?”

“I’ve designed a personalized program for you, and we’ll be starting every morning at this hour,” he announces.

“It’s 7am!”

“So?” he asks with confusion. “I’ve already finished training with my 5amclient, and I told you we were starting bright and early. I have another client at ten, so we only have about two and a half hours.”

“Only two and a half hours?” I say, gaping at him. “Sven, we were up drinking late last night! I’m hung over!”

“Then have electrolytes.” He tosses me a Gatorade. “No excuses.”

I move to open the bottle, but my hands are still useless from just waking up. I’m not weak—but I am literally half-asleep right now. I hold it back out to him. “Can you…?” I mumble.

He sighs as he takes it from me, and effortlessly twists the cap before handing it back. Then I notice the label.

“Gatorade Zero?”

“You had enough sugar last night,” he explains.

I roll my eyes as I sip the beverage. He somehow looks extremely well-slept and well-put together for this early in the morning. Since I have been mostly working from home lately, I haven’t been paying too much attention to the clock, and only getting presentable if I need to go to the store to grab something. I’ve also been pullingreallylong hours, and sometimes even all-nighters, so I’m sure I look as frazzled as I feel. I just want to pout and ask him to get into bed with me, so I can use him as a pillow for the next two and a half hours instead of getting up.

But that sounds lazy, and I don’t want him to think I’m lazy.

“What are we going to do?” I ask him, yawning.

“We are going to warm up your muscles, and take it slow. Burn off some of the calories that you ate last night, and engage muscles that you didn’t know you had in a full-body workout.”

I lift my eyebrows. I am trying very hard not to say that I can think of another way to warm up my muscles and burn offallthe calories I ate last night, if he will just join me under this blanket…

“It’s your first time, so we’re going to test your overall strength, and I’m going to make some notes about your fitness levels and your one-rep max.”

“My what?”

“We don’t have much time,” Sven says, glancing at his watch. “I know it seems like a lot, but two hours will fly by. Should I give you a few minutes to change into something more comfortable, or do you want to work out in your pajamas? I have some equipment in the loft, so we could start here if you didn’t want to go to the gym.”

“I should probably freshen up,” I say, remembering that I never removed my already-smeared makeup before bed. I probably look like yesterday’s trash, left out overnight and cooked in the sun, with flies buzzing around it. I can also feel that my hair resembles a bird’s nest atop my head. Not a cute bird’s nest, either. A haphazard, insane bird’s nest, made by a bird with no artistic talent. The bird that none of the other birds want to live near, because he brings down the curb appeal of the neighborhood with his horrible excuse of a nest.

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