Saved by Hazel James

Author:Hazel James [James, Hazel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: novel
Publisher: Hazel James
Published: 2018-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

A screaming baby lures me from Clay’s office to the main gym, where I see Paige beside a treadmill holding her daughter. “Poppy, please. I’ll buy you a pony. Or a unicorn. One that poops Skittles and farts rainbows. Just please stop.”

To Paige’s dismay, Poppy wails louder.

“I’m can relate. I’m not a fan of the treadmill either.”

She tosses a weary smile my way while she readjusts the burp cloth on her shoulder. “My mom normally watches her, but she woke up this morning with a migraine. DH is at work and I didn’t want to bail on Marshall. I figured I could just bring her with me because she usually sleeps for a couple of hours in the afternoon. Except today.” She sighs. “It’s a good thing she’s cute.”

“I’ll take her. We can hang out here on the bench while you work out.”

Paige looks at me like I sprouted two heads. “Are you sure?”

I hold my arms out. “Positive.”

She carefully passes the baby to me. “Here’s her pacifier, and her bottle is in her car seat. I couldn’t get her to take either one of them.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Thanks!”

Paige puts in her earbuds and I settle Poppy in the crook of my right arm. She’s a tiny thing with as much hair on her head as me and an attitude to match. I like her already. “When I’m upset, there’s one thing that always puts me in a better mood,” I tell her. “Well, two things, but you can’t use swear word coloring books yet.” Hooking her tiny hand on my finger, I introduce Poppy to a G-rated version of Post Malone’s Rockstar. Her wails turn to whimpers by the second verse and by the end, she’s quiet.

“You like that, huh? What should we do next? Maybe some French Montana?” She doesn’t object, so I continue with our baby hip hop session, rocking her back and forth to the beat until her eyelids droop and her breathing falls into a steady rhythm.

“Remind me to add ‘baby whisperer’ to your list of accomplishments,” Clay says, joining us on the bench for a break between clients. He’s been playing catch-up all week, which means I haven’t seen him much. “How’d you get her to stop?”

“We rapped.”

“You rapped to a two-month-old?”

“Lullabies are for nerds. Cool chicks like us need good music.”

“If you say so.” He laughs and shakes his head. “How’s your day going?”

“Not bad. I posted the job ads for Battles 2 on every website on our list and in the newspaper. I noticed several positions had a certified inclusive fitness trainer requirement.” It’s a statement and a question rolled into one. I saw the drafts for the job announcements when I started working here, and that qualification wasn’t on the list.

“I wondered if you’d catch that.” He smiles and rubs the back of his neck. God, he’s adorable. “Seeing you in the gym after work made me realize I’m missing out on the chance to help an entire demographic, so I’m creating an adaptive program for Battles 2.

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