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Her shoulder brushed mine as she walked behind the counter. Fruit, yogurt, a container of whey protein, and a blender sat on the counter.
“Want something to drink before we get started?” Remi asked me.
“You have water?” Glancing around the space, I could see it was spotless.
“Of course.” She pulled a bottled water out of a fridge, twisting off the cap and setting it in front of me.
I drank the cool liquid, hoping it would soothe my dry throat, but knowing nothing would stem this growing attraction to her. I had a feeling if I touched her, I’d just want more.
My gaze dropped to her lips, which were tinged with a glossy coating I wanted to lick off.
She looked at me with a hint of insecurity in her blue eyes. “I’m not sure what taste to expect. I’ve never made any smoothies with whey.”
“The amount of whey is what’s important. Someone who’s interested in building muscle is paying close attention to the amount of protein they’re consuming in a day.” I turned the container of whey to show her the amount needed for each gram of protein.
“Does flavor matter?” Remi cocked a brow as if I’d offended her.
“I don’t think the flavor matters for men as much as it does for women. It doesn’t have much of a flavor unless you put too much in. Most smoothie places only add five to ten grams.”
“I don’t want to provide a product that has a small amount of protein, though. I’d want to give bodybuilders what they want.”
“You’ll want at least ten grams, then. If you can get the right ratio of protein and the flavor is off the charts—”
She smiled, and my heart clenched at the sight. “Then I’ve got something.”
“Yeah.” I loved that she wanted to create the best product she could. That she wanted to appeal to more customers. Remi was passionate about her business, and I respected the hell out of that.
She pushed the container of whey toward me with a measuring cup.
I measured it, then poured it into the blender. “Use whatever ingredients you normally use, and we’ll see how it tastes.”
“It will give us an idea of our starting point. I thought I’d start with my post-workout juice.” She poured cubed pineapple and apple, shaved ginger, chopped mint leaves, and coconut milk into the blender.
I moved around the counter, resting a hip against it. I wanted to be close to her without the counter between us.
She paused the blender, spooned chunks of fruit off the side of the container, and started it again.
When it was done, she poured the concoction into two glasses. Holding mine up for me, she said, “I’ll let you go first.”
“I am the official taste tester.” I drank it, tasting the chalky flavor of the whey.
She pushed my water toward me. I must have grimaced when I drank it. Drinking the water, I said, “You can taste it.”
“I figured”—she drank a sip of hers, smacking her lips—“it was too much.”
“Can you increase the amount of fruit or add another sweetener?”
Her lower lip popped out slightly. “Can we reduce the amount of whey?”
“There’s a certain amount you need to build muscle.”
“So, I need to make the changes.” Remi’s shoulders tensed.
“We’ll figure it out.”
She glanced at me, her expression grateful. “You’re right. I’ll get it.”
“We have time to get it right. I don’t have anywhere to be.”
