Page 40 of Charlie

She has a good point. "Fine."

I throw on some cut-off leggings, a sports bra, and an oversized t-shirt. I sit down at the table to pull on my socks and shoes, down the rest of my coffee, and then Isla drags me out the door.

She drives like a bat out of hell, jerking to a stop in front of a warehouse a few miles away.

"This doesn't look shady at all," I chide, not seeing a sign anywhere. "How do people even know it's a gym?"

"Kind of a long story, but it was too far to drive to Stornoway every day, so we all chipped in, bought the warehouse, outfitted it, and then told everyone in Harris about it. Anyone with the keycode can come and use it whenever they want."

"Do you charge them?" I ask, getting a distinct impression that they don't.

"Nope, we were gonna do it anyway." She keyed in the code and held the door open for me.

"Who is we, exactly?"

"Me and the guys."

I gape as I take in three rows of cardio equipment, a large area for free weights, and a huge space filled with weight machines. "Isla, this is not just equipment for the three of you."

"Four of us," she corrects. "It's grown a little since we started."

"Wait, four of you?"

"Yeah, me, Lach, Jay, and their old university roommate."

A cheer goes up as we make our way inside, a handful of people calling out to Isla, greeting her with smiles and waves. She ducks her head and smiles back. "Where do you want to start?" she asks me.

I stare at her blankly. "I haven't been to a gym in my entire life."

"You have a body like that and you've never been to a gym? Fuck off."

I laugh. "Teach me, coach?"

"Sure, but you have to call me coach."

"Yes, coach." We both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

Isla peels off her sweatshirt and I catch myself gaping at the muscle hugging her curves in all the right places. She's fucking sexy.

"Holy hell, Isla. Where has all that been hiding?"

"Just wait till it gets warmer." She wiggles her eyebrows at me. "You always want to warm up first," she says, serious now. "Always." She motions for me to get on the treadmill next to hers. She leans over and increases the incline to as high as it goes. "Now you adjust the speed to whatever is comfortable."

Two minutes later, I'm a soggy dripping mess. I pull my hair up high on my head, wrapping it around my hand and securing it into a messy bun. My face feels like it's on fire, and I'm positive I look like a tomato. I don't make a peep, though, determined to at least try to keep up with Isla. All those years in that fucking job have to be good for something, right?

After ten minutes, Isla slams the stop button on her control panel. "That's enough of that. Now we get to do the really fun stuff."

Really fun? Did that imply the treadmill was supposed to be fun? I'm screwed. I follow her over to the free weights, admiring her leg muscles. She's all lithe muscles and sexy curves. I want that. I know I'm not awful to look at, but if I'm being honest with myself, I haven't taken care of myself. I've neglected nourishing my body, especially on the days I worked twelve-plus hours. It made me scrawny. I've gained a bit of weight since stopping, enough that I had to go up a couple of pants sizes, and I feel somewhat out of my element. A little disappointed in myself, if I'm being honest. At least working toward being healthy will give me some focus outside of work – something I can keep doing when I get home.

Home. That one word has my stomach dropping to the floor.

"You good?" Isla asks, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.

"Yes, coach!" I plaster a smile on my face.

She studies me for a second, clearly not believing me. "We're going to start with basics, okay? First, we'll go over squats and lunges." She spends the next five minutes showing me the moves, where my weight should be, and where my knees shouldn't be. I follow her lead, using weights considerably lighter than hers.

"Jay!" Isla breaks into a grin.

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