As she reached over the counter, his eyes traveled up the length of her long legs. They seemed to go on forever, but they progressed into the curve of her butt where two faint flour handprints sat on either cheek.
“Here you go,” she said, turning back around and handing him the card.
Clearing his throat, he studied the information.
“No pressure.”
“All right, great,” he said, heading toward the door. “Thanks.”
“Donutbe a stranger,” she called out.
Duncan looked back in time to catch her wince.
“I’ll forget that one too,” he said.
“Fourth favorite person,” she replied.
He left the bakery with a smile, and within a few seconds, he entered his gym, Spotlight Boxing Studio. It was a little surreal to know that this was his reality. From the red walls to their logo etched on the glass door, everything had fallen into place for him and his partner. Except maybe how they were now battling for parking space.
Jessie, one of the trainers, was working the front desk between her classes and gave him a nod in greeting.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Duncan asked, approaching the counter.
“Good,” Jessie said, taking a bite from a shortbread cookie. “Busy.”
He gestured to her hand. “Where did you get that from?”
Food, especially sweets and dessert, didn’t last long at Spotlight despite Duncan’s best efforts to keep the fridge stocked up for his team.
“Oh, from this,” Jessie said, leaning back in her chair and retrieving a large basket with an extravagant purple bow. “Someone from the bakery next door delivered it this morning.”
Unfolding the cloth that hid the contents of the gift basket, he studied the remaining pastries. He wondered if Retta had handpicked them herself. When he took a bite out of the most appealing one, the noise around him disappeared. All he could concentrate on was the tartness of the raspberries on the pastry. The way the tip of his tongue zinged before the slightly sweet custard that accompanied the dessert mellowed out the flavor.
“Good, right?” Jessie asked.
He nodded, choosing two more pastries to try.
Chatter filled the foyer as the one o’clock drill-based class was let out. Duncan smiled at all the sweaty, giddy faces emerging from one of the downstairs gyms.
“Have a good afternoon,” he told several of them.
His best friend and business partner, Anthony, followed behind the hoard of people, equally as sweaty as his students but with his typical scowl in place.
He met Anthony at the water fountain where he was filling up his bottle. The big guy was someone who at first glance seemed intimidating. Well, also at second glance. Truthfully, even when a person got to know him, he wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine. But he was always kind and was a hit with literally anyone who took his classes.
“How did networking go?” Anthony asked, pushing his curly hair from his eyes.
“Fine. Except we’re apparently infringing on some unspoken parking rules.”
Throwing the towel over his shoulder, his friend asked, “What do you mean?”
“There’s assigned parking,” Duncan said.
A big reason they picked this location for the gym was for those spaces.
His business partner rubbed his face roughly with his hands. “There was nothing about that in the rental agreement.”
“I know, but we’re trying to play nice and not make enemies,” Duncan said, taking a bite from his croissant. If the persistence of the Post-it notes were any indication, Retta would take it personally if they didn’t come to some sort of understanding.
