Run to Love (Triple R Book 1)

E
VERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2016 Jules Dixon

ISBN: 978-1-77339-017-8

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Lisa Petrocelli

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.  No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

People who’ve struggled with weight issues and/or bullying hold a special place in my heart. I’ve been there, experienced that. My hope is that this novel gives some insight into the pain that comes with feeling like you’re not enough, inspiration to those who still struggle to stand up to their bully, or you’ll take away an “I’ve been there, too” connection. For those who still experiencing the heartache of reflecting too often about what you see as wrong with yourself, whether it be weight or something else, please know that there is so much right in you. You are not a sum of any wrongs. You are just a whole lot of right, pinky swear promise, and I dedicate this book to you.

With love, Jules

RUN TO LOVE

Triple R, 1

Jules Dixon

Copyright © 2016

Chapter One

Four thirty a.m. Seriously, time to get up already?

The ridiculous schedule had been my life five times a week for the last two years, which only indicated how insane but committed I was. Maybe I should be insanely committed?

I threw on workout clothes, swiped my gym bag off the floor, and a packed garment bag from behind my door. On the way down the hallway, the corner of my bag got stuck on a decorative metal stand—which held nothing, but according to my roommate, “Its spirit told her it was meant to be there.” This spirit-feeling, sixth-sense sensing, people-loving roommate, better known as Willow Harper, would be up in less than an hour for her morning shift as assistant manager and sous chef at the local coffeehouse, but for now she slept peacefully. Avoiding the urge to un-Zen-ly fling the shelf out the window, I deposited the spirit-filled metal back to its original location and tiptoed away.

“Bye!” Willow yelled from the comfort of her bed. “Love you, you loud bitch!”

“Sorry,” I half-lied. “Love you, too. Bye!”

The late April morning drive blurred by. I arrived at Run-Ride-Rock Gym well before my five a.m. training time. My stretching routine was completed in full-on zombie mode. By ten after the hour my personal trainer still hadn’t strutted his way to the warm-up area, and that wasn’t like him. I snagged my towel and water bottle from the floor and made my way to find out what was going on at the front desk. Even though I’d met her before at the gym and a couple of times at outside social functions, the young woman manning the front desk wasn’t high on my list of favorite people. If anything, she sat at the top of my most loathed.

“Hi, I’m Presley Bradenhurst. I have a standing five a.m. appointment Mondays with Mitch. Is he sick today?”

The receptionist, a human yardstick with a giant blonde horsetail high on her bobble-head, turned, and her baby blue eyes glared her sentiments. “Oh, yeah, I forgot to stop you when you waddled in. Mitch was fired Friday. Someone probably left you a phone message not to bother to come in today.” She scanned me up and down and sneered, “…or ever again.”

What? He was fired? Why?

I cleared my throat. “I don’t think I received a phone call. Since I’ve already paid for the 100 Session New Year’s Special and I’ve only used about thirty, I’ll need to interview for a new personal trainer. Can you set up an appointment for me to talk to Blake, please?”

“I’ll see if I can work it into my schedule,” the snarky blonde replied. “Sorry, I meant
his
schedule.”

Typical.

“Hi, there.” The deep and serene voice was friendly.

I spun with a smile on my face. “Hi…” I said, stretching the word for so long I was positive drool trickled from my cavernous mouth.

A cocky smirk tilted the attractive young man’s lips … his luscious and kissable lips.

Great.

A swipe of my hand to my mouth verified that I was in fact drooling. The response was typical for me and bound to happen again as my nervousness around the opposite sex kicked into overdrive.

“I heard your predicament. I’m a new personal trainer starting today. I’d be glad to give you an impromptu training session.”

“That’s really not necessary, Jude,” the gritchy blonde inserted her opinion over my shoulder.

“I disagree. If she’s made such an impressive 100-session commitment to the gym, she should get our undivided attention in return.” He winked.

My skin tingled and goose bumps trailed my arms. “Thank you. Jude, right?” I asked, to confirm what my brain barely heard while it was stuck in mid-gape.

“Jude Saylor. Nice to meet you…” He stretched the words like he was looking for a name and extended his hand.

“Presley,” I answered slowly.

Too slowly. Wake up!

“Presley, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

I noticed we hadn’t stopped shaking, or at this point, holding hands. I jerked mine away but not before noticing how manly and large his hand was, while still soft.

“I appreciate you offering your time, Jude, but I’m sure you have better things to do than watch me work out.” I offered the out but kept my gaze lowered to prevent more physical responses.

The blonde receptionist huffed and mumbled something I didn’t quite catch. I gazed up through my lashes as Jude gave blondie a furrowed-brow glare. She spun in her chair like there was something more interesting on the other side of the desk.

This wasn’t the first time Emerson Welch had said something less than pleasant to me, around me, or about me, and I was almost positive it wouldn’t be the last. She radiated nasty from her ultra-sculpted eyebrows to her manicured white fingertips to her perfect size two ass. It was a package meant for intimidation and it worked. On me, at least.

“Nope, really can’t think of anything I’d rather do. Did you stretch?”

I raised my gaze and gave a curt nod.

“Okay, let’s go.” He strolled toward the free weights, and with my mind on autopilot I followed.

The view is am-a-zing.

Jude’s shoulder blade length brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the base of his neck just fit him, and his lightly tanned skin and a five o’clock shadow with long sideburns emphasized his oblong face. He was tall but not like NBA basketball-player tall, and he had an upper body full of muscles rippling with every masculine stride. He wasn’t bodybuilder bulky. Firm. He was just … really … firm.

Drool check.

A sway of my eyes traveled down and across his toned back. I realized how thin his waist was—maybe smaller than mine, but I’d never been small by any stretch of the imagination. My eyes wandered lower and through his black knit shorts, his tight and energetic ass popped sinewy muscles every time he took a step.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

He spun around, and I brought my guilty gaze back up to his … beautiful hazel orbs.

Of course he has awesome eyes. Geez.

I blushed at getting caught enjoying the view, but Jude continued like he hadn’t noticed. “Let’s start with a few free weights to warm up. Here.” He passed me the barbells. “How about three sets of ten bicep curls?”

I started the movements without instruction. Staring into the mirror, I concentrated on my form. Elbows close to the body, knees slightly bent, I lifted slowly, feeling the muscles contract and release with each pump.

“Good. Okay, now three sets of ten front raises.”

I completed the task as asked.

As much as I missed Mitch, I could tell Jude knew what he was doing when it came to personal training, and an at-ease feeling rode through me.

But it was short-lived.

“You have excellent form, Presley. Mitch must have been a great trainer.” Jude stalked around me, taking in all angles. His predator-like movements returned my discomfort. I made a conscious effort to stop my breathing from altering even after feeling my heart rate increasing … and not from exercise.

“He was. Do you know why he was fired?”

Jude adjusted my arm’s ascent. He tipped the weight to give a different stress on the muscle, leaving radiating warmth from his touch on my wrist.

“I don’t, sorry. Like I said, first day.” He handed me something a little more substantial. “Now, let’s try something different to work the smaller back muscles. Let’s do a shoulder shrug with these weights.”

Standing beside me, Jude demonstrated what he wanted me to do, and I copied his image.

“Only the shoulders, relax your biceps.” He touched my bare arms, and I shivered. “Sorry, are my hands cold?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Stop it, body!

I adjusted the raise of my shoulders.

“Perfect. This is great for these muscles back here.”

He grazed his hand over my shirt, and I straightened to avoid the pressure. My best efforts to keep my body from reacting to his gentle contact only made any reaction seem worse, and I cursed myself internally.

“Okay, one more set.”

Watching me in the mirror, he counted down from ten. I was thankful when he moved on, and I could take a deep breath.

He then directed me to do a variety of free weight-based exercises and so many crunches my stomach burned like it was filled with hot sauce. But the sensation was so good because the feeling meant something was happening to my stomach.

Something is definitely happening in my stomach.

“Great. Let’s do some cardio.” Jude pointed to the treadmills. “I haven’t had a run today.”

“I don’t run, Jude. I jog … issues.” I tried to give as little information as possible. Telling him I used to be significantly heavier sounded like just the torture I needed to shove me over the edge and into a complete anxiety attack.

“Then let’s jog, Presley.” He lifted his voice like the suggestion was the best idea in the world. No judgment. No questions.

We chose treadmill machines next to each other and began a decent walking pace. When Jude increased his speed, I did the same. Soon we were going at a good clip. Definitely a faster pace than I’d attempted in a long time, but I gave the intense exercise the old “if it doesn’t kill me, I’ll still hate it” try. We fast-jogged.

Who am kidding? This is an all-out run.

We continued for about fifteen minutes when I caught his puzzled look from the corner of my eye.

“So what do you do, Presley?”

“I’m a salesperson at Jessen Auto Mall. We sell both new and used.” I stared ahead.

His tone changed when he asked, “Do you like what you do?”

“Most days, yes. Some days, no. It’s decent money … and I like my coworkers. My boss has never had a female salesperson who’s able to hold her own with the guys on car knowledge.” I inhaled a shallow breath as my chest tightened. “My uncle was a gearhead … car buff … grease monkey … whatever you want to call him. He had the bug bad and passed it on to me. I knew how to replace a transmission … in a car … before I got my first period.” I cringed and blushed.

Giant sinkhole gods, swallow me please!

Jude smirked. “And what do you like to do in your free time?”

I cleared my head of embarrassment and took another strained breath. “I volunteer … at the Nebraska Humane Society … cleaning dog and cat kennels … on Sundays.” I adjusted my stride but nothing was helping. I managed to finish on a squeaky exhale. “And I like to go biking around the area lakes.”

“Good choices. I have a black cat, Ninja. He’s sneaky and likes to jump from piece of furniture to piece of furniture. It’s actually kind of impressive. I swear there are days he doesn’t touch the ground at all.”

“I … like … cats. He … neutered?” My world started to spin in a counterclockwise fashion.

Jude jumped from his machine, reached over the side rail, and slammed the stop button on my machine. “When you start to breathe like that, you stop! Immediately, Presley!”

Mortified, I clutched the side rails as the machine ground to a halt. My legs wobbled like Jell-O.

“That’s a sign you’re overexerting yourself. No need to do that. Let’s walk around the floor for a few minutes.”

I scampered away from him, but he followed on my heels.

“Are you okay?” His hand skimmed my lower back and I slinked away.

While my breath came and went like a whistling duck call was stuck in my windpipe, I snuck out, “Yeah… just need … a minute.”

At the water fountain I drank quick sips in between rasping breaths.

Damn asthma! This is a reminder of why I shouldn’t run.

Jude motioned with his head. “Come on, let’s do a stroll around the gym. I still don’t know where everything is, so it’ll do me good, too.”

We walked together to the indoor track. Jude was an excellent conversationalist, moving from subject to subject with ease but never asking anything too personal. I kept my answers quick, without elaboration.

Walking beside him, I smelled his familiar soap scent, and it mingled in the air with his musky body spray. The mixing of soap and scents caused my childhood and high school days to flash both happy and not-so-happy memories in my brain. A little of his salty sweat socialized with the other scents and my body responded in two places—my nipples and my heartbeat.

I glanced in a mirror as we made a second trip around the track that wrapped around the outside of the gym floor. My sports bra was doing very little to hide my physical reaction. Jude smiled, catching my gaze in the mirror. His eyes dipped to my chest before he averted his gaze.

Agreed, not much to look at.

After we completed two trips round the gym floor, he stopped by the door to the female locker rooms. “Well, since I didn’t have a plan set up today, I’d like to offer you a free session on Friday. If you’re interested, Presley? Give me another chance to work you until you’re dripping with sweat everywhere and your muscles are screaming for release?”