Page 163 of Bend
Immediately, Jason's warmth left me. My eyes simultaneously flew open, the hazy fog of being 'almost there' quickly dissipated as I saw Lindsey's horrified face standing about six or seven feet away, aghast at what she had just viewed.
She had clamped her only free hand over Harper's eyes, her other arm cradled a still-sleeping Jackson against her chest.
"Get out," she hissed, and to be honest, I wasn't sure if she meant Jason, or me, or quite possibly the both of us.
Jason hurriedly stood up, grabbed his tool box and got the hell out as quickly as any man could, his erection still very evident underneath his navy blue work pants.
I slid from the countertop, bending over to pick up my panties and shrug them back on. Lindsey was still glaring at me, evidently too fucking pissed to have the good manners to give me some privacy. Harper was squirming around, trying to move Lindsey's hand away from where it still covered her eyes, but she couldn't budge it.
"Timing," I said, pulling my cutoffs up and fastening the button, "is fucking everything," I finished, brushing past her and going to my room.
chapter 2
It was my sixth week of physical training, but it felt as if it had been years instead of weeks. I stood in the weight room, at five-fifteen in the morning—that's right—five-fucking-fifteen, watching myself in the mirrored wall of the room, doing curls with free weights clutched in both hands.
Fuck, why in the hell did I get assigned this time frame for a personal work-out?
It was punishment, pure and simple. But it was required, and since I'd done a good job of pissing off my instructor, it was what it was.
I glanced around the large, carpeted room. There were only three other people in here, all guys. The thing was, I had to clock in and out, so it wasn't as if I could ditch it without getting busted, and then I'd be in more trouble, if that were even possible.
Neither Trace nor Lindsey were speaking to me and hadn't been for three weeks. I was, as they say, persona non grata at the Trace Matthews residence.
Kicking me out was totally their prerogative, I got that. But why the fuck had I been forced to endure yet another one of Trace's lectures?
He had even asserted that I had no fucking business being in the bureau, and that I had my head stuck so far up my ass, even he couldn't pry it out. That was, if he had a mind to, which he said he clearly didn't.
Oh. What. Ever
I looked at my reflection. As bad as Trace had made me sound, I didn't think that I really resembled the type of loser that he'd accused me of being.
Hell, I was in the best shape that I'd ever been in physically.
My arms and legs were toned nicely; my belly firm and flat. I was taller than Lindsey; that had to count for something, right?
My light brown hair was long and shiny; and my dark brown eyes resembled pools of liquid chocolate, or so some dude had once told me right after we’d shared sex and a blunt.
I wiped some perspiration from my neck with my towel, placed the free weights back into the slots in the rack, and grabbed the next heavier set of weights.
I planted my legs a bit apart just as Darin, my assigned trainer, had instructed. I started once again with the curls, making sure to inhale and exhale the way that he had recommended. It really did work. I used the oxygen to my benefit, just like he said that I should.
Okay, so things at Easton's and Darcy's weren't as bad as they had been at Trace and Lindsey's, but shit, I knew that Lindsey had filled Darcy's head with pre-conceived notions about me.
The good thing was that Darcy didn't give me pink post-it notes with daily chores scribbled on them. She at least had a housekeeper and gardener at her disposal, so that took me off the hook.
Still, it seemed that Darcy didn't want to hang out much, or really converse a lot. Easton was always traveling, but hell, at least I wasn't constantly being lectured.
I was getting an income from my internship, although it was nothing to brag about for sure. Trust me, I wanted nothing more than to be on my own and not accountable to anyone else, but that just wasn't going to happen any time soon. I had to bide my time and save money along the way.
I glanced up at the clock. It was nearly five-thirty. At six I officially had to clock out, take a shower and dress for my office job at the bureau that was part of my internship training.
Once my training was complete, I would have an opportunity to apply for a permanent position with the bureau, and receive a bump in my salary. But hell, that wouldn't be
for another eight months.
I commenced doing squats with the weights, just as my mentor/trainer Darin came bouncing into the weight room.
"There's my girl," he called out, flashing me a smile.
