bother looking up from her newspaper this time. “Of course I do, Jolene Dolly. You’re a good girl, always have been. A couple drinks every now and then ain’t gonna hurt nobody.”
Jo groaned. “Please don’t call me that, Gran.”
“It’s your name.”
“It’s awful is what it is. And it’s not my name anymore.”
Gran dropped the newspaper to the table. “It’s not?”
“I thought I’d told you? When I changed my last name to yours, I changed my middle name to Sommers. I didn’t really want their last name anymore, but, I don’t know, I couldn’t quite let go of it completely I guess.”
Gran picked her paper back up. “Like I said, you’re a good girl, Jolene. Now eat up and get hydrated. It’ll help the headache.”
“How do you know I have a headache, Gran?” Jo teased.
“Because you’re my granddaughter, that’s how.”
Jo smiled and ate up.
~~*~~
Later that afternoon, while Gran was doing her PT homework in the living room, Jo changed into workout clothes, popped her earbuds in, and headed out to the garage for her own version of physical therapy.
She queued up her workout playlist and slipped her phone back into the tight pocket inside her workout shorts. She moved her kettle bells to the center of the garage before grabbing her dumb bells and setting them beside the kettle bells, wishing she’d been able to bring her entire rack with her but thankful she’d finally been able to get in a workout.
She’d been here…ugh, two weeks. Two weeks without exercising.
No wonder she was getting emotional—she needed some endorphins. Stat.
Jo warmed up, moving fluidly from stretch to stretch. She paused to drink some water before picking up her dumb bells and beginning her normal routine. Somewhere between upper body and lower body, her earbuds started slipping out and refused to stay in. Frustrated, she ripped them out of her phone, which she sat next to her water, volume turned up all the way.
She’d just finished Russian kettle bell swings and was in the process of moving into a set of goblet squats, Eminem’s “The Monster” blaring from her phone, when she heard Chase’s voice behind her.
“You really do listen a variety of stuff, don’t you?”
She almost dropped fifty pounds of cast iron on her foot.
Almost.
Instead, she turned around, the kettle bell dangling in her hands, and asked, “Don’t you know better than to startle someone in the middle of a workout?”
“Hey, I waited until you were done with the swings. I was pretty sure Gran wouldn’t appreciate having a hole in her wall.”
“The Monster” gave way to “Gunpowder and Lead,” and Jo suddenly felt angry. “Why are you here, Chase?”
He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Determined to finish her workout, Jo dropped into a deep squat. “And why--” Up. “Wouldn’t I--” Down. “Be--” Up. “Okay?” Down.
He raked a hand through his hair and looked over her shoulder before turning his gaze back to her. She waited for him to respond.
Up.
Down.
Breathe.
Up.
Down.
Breathe.
“I got the impression you hadn’t planned on all of that coming out last night. Not like it did. And not last night.”
Up.
Down.
Breathe, Jolene .
Up.
Down.
Breathe.
“You would be correct.”
Up.
Down.
Breathe.
Why did he have to be so fucking gorgeous?
Jo’s heart was racing, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the workout or him or both.
He was ruining her workout.
Maybe.
The eye candy was nice.
Being watched so intently, however, was unnerving.
She finished her squats in silence, concentrating on counting each rep. As Jo set the kettle bell down on the floor and grabbed her water, she almost laughed out loud as the lyrics of Sugarcult’s “Pretty Girl” pummeled her ears.
Leave it to iTunes to have impeccable timing. She almost skipped the song, but then realized Chase probably wouldn’t see the irony in an angry song about a girl
Jo groaned. “Please don’t call me that, Gran.”
“It’s your name.”
“It’s awful is what it is. And it’s not my name anymore.”
Gran dropped the newspaper to the table. “It’s not?”
“I thought I’d told you? When I changed my last name to yours, I changed my middle name to Sommers. I didn’t really want their last name anymore, but, I don’t know, I couldn’t quite let go of it completely I guess.”
Gran picked her paper back up. “Like I said, you’re a good girl, Jolene. Now eat up and get hydrated. It’ll help the headache.”
“How do you know I have a headache, Gran?” Jo teased.
“Because you’re my granddaughter, that’s how.”
Jo smiled and ate up.
~~*~~
Later that afternoon, while Gran was doing her PT homework in the living room, Jo changed into workout clothes, popped her earbuds in, and headed out to the garage for her own version of physical therapy.
She queued up her workout playlist and slipped her phone back into the tight pocket inside her workout shorts. She moved her kettle bells to the center of the garage before grabbing her dumb bells and setting them beside the kettle bells, wishing she’d been able to bring her entire rack with her but thankful she’d finally been able to get in a workout.
She’d been here…ugh, two weeks. Two weeks without exercising.
No wonder she was getting emotional—she needed some endorphins. Stat.
Jo warmed up, moving fluidly from stretch to stretch. She paused to drink some water before picking up her dumb bells and beginning her normal routine. Somewhere between upper body and lower body, her earbuds started slipping out and refused to stay in. Frustrated, she ripped them out of her phone, which she sat next to her water, volume turned up all the way.
She’d just finished Russian kettle bell swings and was in the process of moving into a set of goblet squats, Eminem’s “The Monster” blaring from her phone, when she heard Chase’s voice behind her.
“You really do listen a variety of stuff, don’t you?”
She almost dropped fifty pounds of cast iron on her foot.
Almost.
Instead, she turned around, the kettle bell dangling in her hands, and asked, “Don’t you know better than to startle someone in the middle of a workout?”
“Hey, I waited until you were done with the swings. I was pretty sure Gran wouldn’t appreciate having a hole in her wall.”
“The Monster” gave way to “Gunpowder and Lead,” and Jo suddenly felt angry. “Why are you here, Chase?”
He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Determined to finish her workout, Jo dropped into a deep squat. “And why--” Up. “Wouldn’t I--” Down. “Be--” Up. “Okay?” Down.
He raked a hand through his hair and looked over her shoulder before turning his gaze back to her. She waited for him to respond.
Up.
Down.
Breathe.
Up.
Down.
Breathe.
“I got the impression you hadn’t planned on all of that coming out last night. Not like it did. And not last night.”
Up.
Down.
Breathe, Jolene .
Up.
Down.
Breathe.
“You would be correct.”
Up.
Down.
Breathe.
Why did he have to be so fucking gorgeous?
Jo’s heart was racing, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the workout or him or both.
He was ruining her workout.
Maybe.
The eye candy was nice.
Being watched so intently, however, was unnerving.
She finished her squats in silence, concentrating on counting each rep. As Jo set the kettle bell down on the floor and grabbed her water, she almost laughed out loud as the lyrics of Sugarcult’s “Pretty Girl” pummeled her ears.
Leave it to iTunes to have impeccable timing. She almost skipped the song, but then realized Chase probably wouldn’t see the irony in an angry song about a girl
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