The woman looked like Duncan with her sharp cheekbones and dimpled smile. They shook hands.
Gwen looked between her and Duncan. “So, you are…”
“Neighbors,” Retta said before Duncan could even open his mouth. “I own the bakery next door to the gym.”
“Oh, I’ve been in there. I love the rhubarb galette.”
“Thank you,” Retta said.
Gwen smiled, and they exchanged a few more pleasantries before she hugged her brother and said, “I’m gonna head out. It was nice meeting you, Retta.”
Once she’d driven off, Duncan fully turned to her. He stuffed his hands into his jacket’s pockets.
“How’ve you been? I meant to text you,” he said.
Oh, here it comes.They always started with the text they’d wanted to send.
“Are we still on for our second date?” he asked.
“Second date?” she squeaked.
“I was dead serious about watchingRockywith you. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t introduce you to the best boxing movie of all time?”
Retta laughed, but her heart was beating rapidly. “Text me when you’re free. We might have to do it during the week or for a few hours on the weekend.”
“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll take care of the food.”
Retta nodded. “I’d lick—like that.”
Dammit.
His chuckle let her know he’d caught her Freudian slip, but buried under the heat of her embarrassment was relief he didn’t hold the moment in the Uber against her.
Their conversation wound down, and they said goodbye.
She drove home lighter and happier, that was until she remembered their interactions were a means to an end. An end that would arrive in six weeks.
“Good morning,” Duncan said, walking into the staff room for the monthly meeting with the other trainers.
He received a general rumbling response from the people already seated, and Anthony looked up from where he was fixing his morning shake.
Duncan smacked his friend on the back while he opened the fridge to place his lunch inside.
“We should get a bigger table,” he said to Anthony as they leaned against the kitchenette counter, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive so they could begin the meeting. “Everyone should be able to sit at the table.”
Anthony studied the furniture that already took up a lot of space. “Not in the budget.”
“What’s this?” a trainer they’d recently hired spoke loudly into the room.
She was studying the notice board where the team had placed Retta’s Post-it notes. The ones where she, in no uncertain terms, told them to move their cars. They’d started collecting and displaying them on the board. Of course, it hadn’t been added to in a while, and Duncan had forgotten all about it.
“Oh, man, for like a month some weirdo was leaving those notes on our cars,” one trainer said. “We’re keeping them as evidence in case one of us disappears.”
Everyone laughed.
Without even a second thought, Duncan strode to the board and deftly removed the bright colored squares.
“Hey, what’re you doing, boss?” someone asked.
