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Tanya frowns but doesn’t protest. We continue the rest of the cardio session in silence. By the time the timer goes off, I’ve got my frustration under control. There’s no point in dwelling on impossible fantasies.
“Time for the cool-down stretch,” Tanya says, “then we’re done for the day.”
“Sounds good.” I slow my treadmill and step off, grabbing a towel to wipe my face. Tanya walks over to the mats and sits, stretching out her long, lean legs. I join her, sitting a careful distance away. She bends forward at the waist, grabbing her feet and pulling them towards her chest. The position draws my gaze to her body, the curve of her spine and the way her leggings cling to her backside. I jerk my eyes away, heat flooding my face again. What is wrong with me? Tanya is off limits and ogling her like she’s a piece of meat is completely unacceptable.
I stand up abruptly. “I’m going to head up and shower.”
Tanya sits up, brows drawing together. “But we haven’t finished the cool down yet.”
“I’ll stretch later.” I can’t get out of here fast enough. “I’ll see you next week.”
Before she can protest further, I leave the home gym and head upstairs. In the shower, I turn the water as cold as I can stand, trying to shock some sense into myself. Tanya is my daughter’s age and it’s completely inappropriate for me to lust after her, no matter how much I might wish otherwise. I step out of the shower and go through my skincare routine. What is wrong with me? I’ve never reacted to a woman this way, not even in my youth. My self-control has always been iron-clad—until now.
With a growl of frustration, I stalk to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge, chugging half of it in one go. I need to call Diane to see when she’s coming back into town, but the thought of facing my daughter when I’m this distracted by a woman her age leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Instead, I head to my home office and boot up my computer to try and lose myself in the work. I can handle numbers; women, not so much. Logistics, planning, negotiating—this is where I excel, not chasing after a woman nearly half my age like a horny teenager. Yet, even as I open spreadsheets and reports, Tanya lingers at the edge of my mind. I remember the flex and release of her muscles, the intensity of her gaze, and the scent of her skin. My blood heats again and I slam my hands on the desk, rattling the keyboard.
Enough. I stand up and move to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. The sun is setting and the day is fading away, much like my sense of control. I want Tanya with an intensity that scares me, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t even know if I want it to stop, and that scares me most of all.
Chapter seven
A Stressful Situation
Brian
The first thing I do when I wake up is call him. The phone rings a few times before he picks up. I hope Big Bob picks up. I now truly want nothing more than to rekindle my friendship with my old friend. He picks up, jolting me to complete awareness from the haze that still lingers from my post-workout nap.
“Hey man, thanks for setting me up with Tanya. She’s amazing,” I say.
Bob sighs, a wave of relief washing over the line. “I’m just glad to see you getting back to your old self. After Laura…well, you know how worried I was. It was hard seeing you like that.”
Guilt twists my gut as I remember the months after my wife’s death. The drinking, the drugs. I pushed away everyone who tried to help, including Bob.
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I never should’ve shut everyone out. You’ve always been there for me, and I don’t know where I’d be without your support.”
“Don’t dwell on the past, buddy. Just keep moving forward. So, you and Tanya, huh? She’s a great trainer. I knew you two would hit it off.”
I chuckle, thinking of our gruesome first workout. “That’s an understatement. Do you want to grab a drink and catch up? It’s been too long.”
“Yeah, it’s time. There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Bob’s tone turns serious, and I sense this is about more than just congratulating me on my new workout regime.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Let’s talk in person. How about tomorrow night, our usual old spot?”
“Sure, tomorrow works. I’ll see you then.” I end the call, curiosity and concern battling in my mind. What does Bob need to tell me that’s so important? I push the thought aside and try and focus on the present. I have to get dressed and head out for an important meeting—the past can wait until tomorrow.
The next evening, I walk into O’Malley’s pub, the old dive bar Bob and I have been frequenting for years. I spot him in our usual booth, nursing a beer and staring into space.
I slide in across from him. “Hey, Bob!”
He gets up and reaches over to give me a burly hug. “Brian, my man. What should we get?”
“A beer?” I ask. Although what I really want to do is order a tower. Being in here is difficult. All I can focus on is trying not to drink myself under the table. This place brings back all those memories of me being hammered, and I’m already beginning to crave it.
“A beer sounds good. Let’s stick to one, shall we?” says Bob.
I nod. He orders the drinks. The waiter comes and sets two mugs down before us.
“So, you wanted to talk?” I ask, outright. I can no longer contain my curiosity and the truth is that if I can’t drink as much as I want, I’d need another distraction. I’m hoping Bob can provide that to me, but also that it’s nothing too damaging.
