His Kind of Perfection

“That’s fine, Ray.” Stella waved at the leaves falling from the maple tree. “They’re not on a schedule, so you don’t have to be, either. How long will Ollie’s renovations take, do you think?”

“I’m not exactly sure.” Ray’s eyes had followed Stella’s wave and remained on the yard as he continued. “Probably a month or so, if I’m guessing.”

That would take them into November, and the weather here in western Kentucky would be getting chilly. Her worry from earlier resurfaced. “And then what? Will you go south to warmer weather?”

Ray’s gaze wandered back to meet hers, and his smile took on an edge of tenderness. “No, Ms. Stella. I’ve got the best of reasons to stay in these parts. Here’s exactly where I want to be.”

Oh, dear! Stella’s heart dropped into her stomach like a lead weight. If her kindness had been misconstrued as something else, she would have to remedy that immediately.

“Ray.” She hesitated. “I think of you as a good friend. And I’m flattered, really.” She held up the flowers as evidence. “But I...don’t think I’ll ever...uh...”

His eyes widened in shock. “Oh, no, Ms. Stella.” He waved his palms in front of the flowers as if the gesture would make them disappear. “I didn’t mean you! That’s not why I gave you the flowers.”

Relief flooded her, followed closely by a wave of embarrassment. “Oh.” Her face grew hot. “I shouldn’t have assumed...”

Ray’s face was bright red, but his laugh dissipated the tension between them. “I’d never expect a fine-looking woman like you to fall for an old goat like me.” He backed off the steps, eyes still locked with hers. “But you know, Ms. Stella, you’re doing some good man a grave disservice by keeping yourself off the market.”

Stella pressed a cold hand to her warm cheek. “Thank you, Ray.”

“I’d best get to work now...before you try to marry me or something.” He shook his head in mock wonderment and headed for the garage.

Stella was laughing when she closed the door, positive that for the next few days, the flowers she held would wring a giggle from her every time she saw them.

* * *

“I’LL SEE YOU LATER.” Bree’s roommate, Thea O’Malley, gave her a small wave, then rose on tiptoes to kiss Gil goodbye. “And I’ll see you later,” she repeated, though the intonation used the second time sent a totally different message.

Thea’s kiss was followed by a long, direct look into Gil’s eyes that made Bree feel like an intruder. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, y’all. Get a room.”

Gil’s gaze shifted to his sister and he squinted one eye. “We had more options for that before you came along.”

Bree ignored the barb. Moving into the spare bedroom of Thea’s small house in Benton had been a win-win situation for them both. Sharing expenses gave them each extra spending money, and now Thea could stay at Gil’s house on Kentucky Lake as often as she wanted without fretting about her cat, Dandy, getting lonely.

And Dandy—short for Dandelion because he’d been a yellow puffball as a kitten—had given Bree his stamp of approval by sleeping at least half of every night splayed across her feet.

Bree gathered the stack of applications from the front counter and took them to the gym’s office where Stacy, a college student who’d be working there part-time, would enter them into the computer. Stacy had already left for her night class, so Bree thumbed through the pile, glancing at the addresses. There seemed to be a good representation from most of the small communities of Marshall County. A few were obviously closer to Paducah or Murray, so she could only surmise the grand opening special discount had served its purpose.

Many of the new members indicated they wanted to work with a personal trainer. She and Gil would divide those up as equally as possible, depending on whether weight loss or strength training was the primary goal. Surprisingly, at this point, strength training seemed to be in the lead, but not surprisingly, the majority of those who wanted to achieve weight loss were women. Nature’s way of helping her stay good on her promise of no involvement, perhaps, since she’d be handling the clients looking for weight loss.

Her stomach growled a reminder that it was time for one of her six small meals, so she headed to the fridge at the snack bar. Gil hadn’t found anyone to run the area yet, so today the two of them had taken turns with the part-time employees keeping protein water, fruit, nuts and smoothies in the hands of potential customers. Consequently, things were a bit of a mess, and nothing was where she’d left it.

She rummaged through all the shelves of the fridge, looking for the other half of the turkey breast on organic whole grain bread that she’d brought from home. Oh, man, if someone had eaten her special sandwich she’d saved until this evening, she would be pissed.

“Where is it?” she fumed, turning her attention to the drawers at the bottom.

“Well, I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I think I’ve found what I’m looking for.”

The deep voice and its ensuing laugh caused Bree to straighten too quickly, banging the base of her head on the door of the freezer.

“Damn!” She grabbed her head and whirled around, biting back another expletive, reminding herself this was probably a customer—who had been inappropriately ogling her rear.

The poor guy’s grin faded with one look at her, and he stepped back, eyes wide.

Big blue eyes wide.

The big wide shade-of-blue-Mom-called-Paul Newman–blue eyes caused an unwelcomed pulse to run through Bree’s system.

Don’t even. She slapped herself mentally.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He picked up one of the price lists from the bar. “I was looking for one of these, and that guy sent me over here.” He nodded in the direction of the weight room where Gil was demonstrating the correct way to perform a bench press to an elderly man.

Ashamed that she’d mistaken this guy’s meaning and allowed her own libido off its leash, Bree smiled through the pain. “I’m the one who should apologize for my language.”

He grinned, flashing a set of killer dimples. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Bree gritted her teeth at her body’s reaction to his smile. “Still inappropriate on my part, though.” Truer words were never spoken. She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Bree Rice, one of the trainers.”

“I’m Kale Barlow.” He gave her hand a shake and then dropped it quickly. He pointed to the picture of her and Gil on the price page. “You’ve cut your hair.”

“Yeah. That’s a couple of months old. Keeping it in a constant ponytail was heavy and causing the ends to break. I thought I’d try it short for a while.” She hadn’t admitted to anyone, it was also her symbolic cut with Lang and Todd and all her past mistakes.

The new gym called for a new start with a new attitude and a new “do.”

He nodded absently and then seemed to remember why he’d come. “I’m thinking I might be interested in the full-service membership. The one that will let me work one-on-one with somebody.”

“Great!” Bree pushed a little more enthusiasm into her voice than she felt. “What are you hoping to get from working with a personal trainer?” Please, say muscle tone or anything that will land you with Gil.

“Well, I’ve been working out on my own, and I’ve lost over twenty pounds,” he said, pride evident in his voice.

“Good!” Bree breathed a little easier. “Good for you.”

“But...”

Bree’s breath hitched at the word.

“I still need to lose twenty or thirty more pounds.” He stepped out from behind the bar he’d been leaning on and grabbed the spare tire around his stomach, giving it a jiggle.

No doubt about it, Kale Barlow was enough overweight to be unhealthy, and she could help him fix that. But his smile—and those eyes!—held an all-too-familiar element of danger. Bree’s insides started a tug-of-war.

“You know, a personalized weight-lifting program would build muscle tissue,” she offered. “And muscle uses more calories than fat, so you could just follow some nutrition guidelines—”

Gil had finished with the elderly man and now walked up to join their conversation. “If it’s nutrition guidelines you want, Bree here’s your expert.” Gil’s arm went around her shoulder for a quick hug.

Bree forced a smile past her tight jaw muscles. “But, as I was saying, the pounds can really fall off once you start building muscle.”

“But—” Gil interjected again, “muscle is denser than fat, so some people get discouraged when they start strength training because they might see the scale going up instead of down. The trick is to keep an eye on your measurements.”

Confusion settled into the deep blue of Kale Barlow’s eyes. “I’m doing pretty good with the weight thing. I’m really hoping to get some more pounds off fairly quickly.”