The heat outside is oppressive, turning the sidewalks into slabs of radiating concrete.
Mia walks carefully, mindful of the thick, heavy air. Her jet-black hair sticks to the back of her neck, her bare legs catching the occasional gust of stale wind that barely does anything to cool her off.
She hardly thinks about what she's wearing--until she steps inside
Pinnacle Fitness.
As she pushes through the glass doors, the sudden blast of crisp, artificial air rolls over her skin, raising goosebumps instantly.
It's cooler inside than she expected.
And suddenly, she's aware of everything.
Her tiny pleated skirt, light blue and swishing just below her ass, offers nothing against the chill, her loose white cut-off draping from her breasts.
God, what was she thinking?
Mia tugs at the ragged hem of her top where it rests just above the bottom of her ribcage. But it does nothing. There's no fixing it.
She should have worn something more conservative, something that didn't cling.
Normally, she would have. But the construction mess near the gym has made parking impossible, forcing her to walk in this miserable heat.
Outside, the outfit had felt practical--a way to survive the heat.
But standing here, inside the gym, in her workplace... it feels bare.
Too deliberate. Almost slutty.
It's fine. It's just Ryan.
She forces herself forward, her flats tapping lightly against the gray rubber flooring as she moves toward the front desk. The gym is dim and quiet, the overhead lights still off.
Pinnacle Fitness
isn't flashy. It has a raw, industrial feel--exposed metal beams, blacked-out walls, weight racks lined neatly against mirrored walls. It's no-frills, but real.
Ryan built the gym on hands-on, tailored training. It's not quite elite, but it offers something the big chains never could--personalized coaching for clients who want more than a generic routine.
A place for people with means and motivation. The cookie-cutter gyms couldn't compete with that.
That is, until
Verafit.
Now, a brand-new
Verafit
is opening right across the street--promising the same one-on-one, high-end training, but on a corporate scale.
Mia finds Ryan exactly where she expects him--seated at the front desk, arms folded across his broad chest, staring out the massive windows. As she approaches, his gaze flickers to her, tracking the effortless grace in her stride. At 5'6", she carries presence without trying--toned legs, the gentle curve of her hips. The soft bounce of her breasts with each step, just enough to tease beneath the fabric of her top--Ryan notices it all before dragging his eyes back to the window.
She follows his line of sight.
The new
Verafit.
It's still under construction, but it already looks like something out of a commercial--modern, massive, all clean glass and polished steel.
A sleek sign already hangs over the entrance, a digital kiosk with flashing letters:
"COMING SOON. SIGN UP NOW."
Ryan hasn't noticed her yet.
His fingers tap idly against his bicep--slow, controlled, but tense.
A man used to being in charge. Now forced to sit and watch as something slips beyond his control.
Mia leans against the counter, watching him.
"So," she says, keeping her tone light, "did you read my marketing plan?"
Ryan blinks out of his thoughts, finally looking at her.
His gaze flickers down, just for a second, before locking onto her face. So fast she almost doesn't catch it.
"Yeah," he says.
She waits.
When he doesn't elaborate, she tilts her head. "And?"
Ryan exhales, shifting back in his chair. "It's good."
Mia narrows her eyes slightly.
He's being nice. Too nice. She knows what he's really thinking.
She follows his gaze back to the looming gym across the street.
Her plan had been safe. Practical. Referral incentives, discount codes, some social media strategies. Standard ideas. Good ideas. She had worked hard on it. But Mia is not a marketer. She's a personal trainer. And looking at that monstrosity across the street, she knows good isn't enough.
She exhales, forcing a shrug. "Yeah, well. It was a start?"
Ryan gives a small, almost-smile. "I appreciate it."
A brief silence.
Something unreadable flickers behind his eyes.
Then--his gaze dips lower. Just briefly. A half-second glance. Nothing lingering.
But she catches it.
And something stirs in her stomach.
Ryan isn't like the others. He's not a gawker. He doesn't let his expression give anything away. He's controlled and collected. Always.He never steals lustful glances like that.
Ryan built
Pinnacle
from the ground up, and he looks the part. Broad-shouldered. Rugged. Handsome. In a way, he built Mia too.
Mia started here when she had nowhere else to go. Ryan taught her the ropes. Gave her a place to belong. He's always been good to her. Patient, even, in the last year during her divorce with Michael.
But--he's also her boss. And that glance was unmistakable.
Before she can dwell on it, Ryan clears his throat.
"You've got Kyle and Ethan on the schedule today, but we've got 45 minutes to review before they get here."
Mia nods and reaches for the stool--but hesitates.
She likes that he saw her. That he liked what he saw. But looking down at herself, she feels too exposed.
Better not to test this.
She turns toward the back locker rooms.
She barely makes it three steps inside before stopping dead. The uniform shelf is empty. Her gym clothes--gone. No workout slacks. No
Pinnacle
polos. No sports bra.
Her stomach plummets.
No.
No way.
Slamming the locker door shut, she marches back to the front desk, heat prickling up her spine.
Ryan is already watching her.
"Ryan," she says, voice flat.
He doesn't answer. His expression shifts, just slightly.
Mia crosses her arms. "Where. Are. My. Clothes?"
Ryan blinks. "What?"
Then, suddenly, something clicks. His brows lift slightly. His lips part. "Ohhh. Shit."
Mia glares.
Ryan exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "I--uh. I didn't pay the laundry service."
Mia blinks.Her brain stalls. She waits for him to elaborate.
When he doesn't, she lifts a brow. "What."
Ryan shifts, visibly uncomfortable. He gestures vaguely. "I didn't figure they'd just... cut us off."
Mia stares at him. "Ryan, I look like an invitation to cross a line!"
Ryan muffles a laugh.
She closes her eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She should go home. She wants to go home. But Ryan looks exhausted. Stressed. The gym is struggling.
He needs her here.
Ryan exhales, shifting. "Should I ask Jace to handle them?"
Mia grits her teeth. "No. They're my clients."
Ryan watches her. Something flickers behind his eyes. Then, he nods once.
Mia sighs, looking down at her outfit. "I'll deal."
Mia is walking her distracted boss through the marketing plan when Kyle arrives--eight minutes late.
Tall, lanky, all boyish energy and eager enthusiasm. His red hair is messy, always slightly damp at the ends, like he just finished sweating something out.
He wipes his palms on his shorts, glancing toward the unfinished gym across the street.
"That place is gonna be nice," he mutters.
Mia narrows her eyes. "Super motivational, Kyle. Love that for us."
