Athica Lane: The Carpino Series (13 page)

Or maybe I’ll just watch. 

I walk into The Shed with Cam.

Well, sort of.

Cam walks into The Shed pulling me along while holding my hand.  I haven’t had the chance to interrogate him about his past with other women, but from the reaction around us, I don’t think he walks into his own establishment often holding a woman’s hand.  This is because everyone—and I mean young, old and all those in between, stops what they’re doing and stares.  Baseball bats drop, football players stop beating the shit out of each other and even a group of kids who look as if they could be in middle school, cease their fancy footwork in and out of old tires.  But what’s most interesting is a group of middle aged women who look to be on the low end of the middle-aged-spectrum, stop chit-chatting and turn to gape.  Most glare, a couple grin.  I have a feeling these are the boot camp moms.

Huh.

I guess it’s a good thing everyone’s surprised by Cam holding a woman’s hand. 

Cam doesn’t miss a beat, lifting his other arm and pointing to the man-boy football players to yell, “You taking a potty break?  Get going.” 

They commence beating the shit out of each other, baseball bats start swinging and middle schoolers go back to their fancy footwork.  The women, however, start to hover.  And I’m a woman so I know what that means:  gossip. 

Well then. 

Good to know what I’m getting into.  Or more specifically—what Cam’s throwing me into.

This is all after my sleepover with Cam.  I slept like a log after my earth-shattering orgasm and woke up on my stomach, lying crooked and facing away from Cam with my arm hanging off the bed.  But I did wake up with his hand on my ass so I knew he was still there.  Pulling me into his arms with his sleepy but warm blue eyes, he kissed me good morning.  Yes, he kissed me with an open mouth and tongue when we both had morning breath that was off the charts since neither of us practiced good dental hygiene before sleep.  You’d think it would’ve been gross, but it just wasn’t.  I think I’d take any kiss from Cam, any day, any time. 

I made some quick eggs and coffee after Cam bossed me to get dressed for boot camp.  I informed him,
again
, that I wasn’t going to boot camp.  I even lied and said I didn’t have any workout clothes, which I do, but not because I work out.  I lounge in them, they’re comfortable. 

He called me on my lie and started to rummage around through my drawers until I slapped his hands away and got my workout clothes.  I didn’t need him going through my drawers, I have my vibrator in here somewhere and Cam doesn’t need any fuel for his sexy talk.  Plus, he was messing up my stuff.

I dressed in my favorite leggings that hit me at the knees with lime green piping down the sides and matching tank with a strappy sports bra underneath (I’d like to see Cam get this one off).  We stopped by his house to take care of Ariel and I made him take me to the grocery store on the way to get the kids so I could buy pumpkin. I’ll just have to freeze the dough for a quick chill and make do.  The kids were happy to see me, however Bekki was not.  She didn’t verbalize it this time, but I got “the glare” that would’ve disintegrated me on the spot.

Like a good dad, Cam lied to his kids and told them he picked me up this morning for boot camp instead of filling them in about our sleepover.  We dropped the kids at camp where he informed Jordy and Cara that they would see me tonight at Tony’s birthday party.  I completely forgot they were invited and now I have to worry about being with Cam in front of my family.  Especially Sophia since she’s called a gazillion times last night and has already texted me twice this morning, all of which I’ve ignored.  It’s not like me not to answer the phone or respond to texts, but what can I say?  I’ve been busy being angry at Cam, fighting with Cam, making up with Cam, getting a Cam orgasm, sleeping with Cam and spending the morning with Cam.  All in all, I’m learning Cam Montgomery can be overwhelming. 

Cam dragged me behind a big counter with a desk and office area behind it.  Taking my purse from me, he throws it in a safe with his wallet and keys.  Then he opens a small fridge under the counter, yanks out a big bottle of water and thrusts it my way, “You ready?”

What?  No way, I am absolutely not ready.

“Not really.  Can I just sit here and organize your desk for you?” I ask.  Looking around, I notice that Cam has cleaning issues.  His desk looks a little like his kitchen last week before I cleaned it.  I don’t understand why he can’t throw away trash.

He grins and simply says, “No.”

I look around and take in my surroundings.  To be honest, the only reason I didn’t throw a fit about coming was because I wanted to see his business.  But now that I’m here I realize I should have stopped by later in the day, namely, after boot camp. 

I take a small step closer to him, yet not too close since we’re in front of other people and let my eyes go big when I say in a low voice, “Cam, I don’t work out.  At all.  I honestly don’t even know what a boot camp entails, but I have a feeling I’m not going to be able to keep up.  Plus, some of those women don’t look very nice.”

Cam brings his hand up to cup my chin, not caring about everyone around us.  Now, in a perfect world, the man who just gave me my first orgasm by someone other than myself and spent the night in my bed would say, “It’s okay,
baby
.  Don’t worry about boot camp.  Sit here and straighten my desk, then I’ll take you home so you can bake your cookies.”

But not in my rollercoaster world.  Nope, Cam leans down to kiss me fast and smiles, “You’ll be fine.  If you can handle fucking Bekki, you can handle the bitchy mom club.  They’re not all bitchy, a couple of ‘em are good women.  You’ll figure it out.  Come on, I’ll introduce you to Zeke.”

“Zeke?  That’s the name of someone who’ll kick my ass,” I whisper.

Putting his arm around my back to move us out, he says, “His name’s Ezekiel but trust me, if you call him anything but ‘Zeke’, he will kick your ass.”

I look where Cam is directing me toward the bitchy mom club.  Most of them look like they’re in good shape and I’m glad I put on my nicest workout (lounge) outfit, because most of them are dressed to the nines.  The nines from the ATHLETA catalogue, that is.  I love ATHLETA.  Hardly anyone carries workout clothes in petites, they’re my go-to for loungewear.  But some of these moms are even wearing makeup.  Who puts on makeup to workout first thing in the morning?

As we approach the group, I see an enormous black man who’s taller than Cam by at least four inches and looks like a lean, mean, ass-kicking machine.  His hair is clipped short, he’s clean shaven and his medium-toned skin looks as smooth as silk.  He’s downright beautiful.  He’s a brick wall too, but his brick is leaner than Cam’s.  Although, he does have his clothes on and I haven’t seen him in his underwear, maybe I shouldn’t make that judgment.  On the other side of the group is a smaller white man, but he’s still built in a way you can tell he’s a workout fanatic.  He has dark brown hair with sleeves of tattoos running up and down both arms with a few on his legs.  The inked guy is eyeing me up and down and the ass-kicking machine is half grinning at Cam with a raised eyebrow. 

“Paige, this is Zeke,” Cam directs me to the big beautiful black man.  “You’ll be with him.”

Zeke turns his eyes on me, grins and sticks out a hand to simply greet me, “Paige.”

“Why don’t I get her?” Tattoo Man asks from our side.

“You know why you don’t get her,” Cam frowns and I still haven’t gotten a word in, or run away for that matter.  He looks back to Zeke, “She’s new to boot camp.  Take good care of her.”

Zeke looks amused but retorts, “Sure thing, boss.”

For some reason I have a feeling Zeke isn’t going to take care of me by going easy on me.  Before I can make a last plea to leave, Cam turns me toward him and leans down to kiss my forehead in front of everyone telling me to, “Have fun,” and walks away. 

Damn him.

I turn around and everyone is staring, glaring and amused at what they just saw.  I decide the best thing to do is put a smile on my face and make the best of it.  I start, “Zeke.  I hope you teach beginner’s boot camp.”

He grins, “Sweetheart, there’s no beginner’s boot camp.  Boot camp is boot camp.”

“Well, as Cam said, I’ve never done this before. I’ll just hang out in the back and observe until I get the gist,” I inform him.

His grin turns into a beautiful white smile when he informs me, “You’ll get the gist.  Let’s go.”

And with that, the trainers and the bitchy mom club move out the door, obviously anxious to get their asses kicked. 

Crazy people.

*****

I think I’m going to die.

I’m going to die a virgin who’s only had one really great orgasm since now, after getting one from Cam, I realize I suck at giving them to myself.  I was really looking forward to the Promised Land, especially after Cam’s orgasm last night.  I want more, much more.  But no, I’m going to die during boot camp and just like Moses, I’ll be denied the Promised Land.  And ironically, it will all be Cam’s fault.

If I’m honest with myself—and I have no other choice but to be honest since the entire bitchy mom club witnessed my demise—the warm up did me in.  If Zeke’s warm up wasn’t a full-on cardio workout, I have no idea what is.  Then he forced us to walk in lunges around the entire warehouse carrying medicine balls.  Zeke said he gave me the lightest one, but that sucker was heavy.  I’m pretty sure he lied.  Then we jumped rope, which I used to be pretty good at.  Jumping rope sort of goes along with hula hooping in the playground sports category.  But after all the lunging, my legs were noodles. 

This was followed by more torture known to these people as burpees, jumping jacks with front kicks (which made me look like even more of an idiot), high plank rolls on a soccer ball and then more planks incorporated into push-ups.  By the time we got to the last planks, I just laid on the ground.  And we were only forty minutes into the sixty minute torture. 

Zeke said it was time for more upper body so we moved to the fire hoses where we had to heave them up and slam them onto the ground.  I could barely pull it up as high as my shoulders.  Zeke disappeared around the building and came back with a garden hose.  I’m not quite sure it was possible to be more humiliated, but slamming my garden hose into the ground when everyone else was doing the real thing, topped me off.  If I had to guess, I bet my garden hose has never been used for anything other than what it should be used for—watering something. 

Thinking this is the longest hour of my life, Zeke tells us to lay on the ground for some ab torture.  I was contemplating a quick nap, or even slipping into a coma since I’m going to die anyway, but Zeke wouldn’t have it.  He bent in front of me to hold my feet, informing me he’d count. 

Ha.  Like there’d be anything to count.

“So, I have to know,” I hear a fake, cheery voice coming from beside me. 

I look over and see one of the makeup moms looking at me, barely out of breath, as she crunches her abs away.  She’s tall with big, bleach blonde hair and it’s up in a mess near the top of her head, but in a way I can tell she worked really hard to make it look that way.  She has enormous boobs and is fit as a fiddle everywhere else.  She’s got to be at least ten years older than me.  She looks like she works really hard at keeping herself in shape as opposed to me who’s small and can stay the size I am because I keep busy and have a good metabolism. 

She’s looking at me with full on interest and with a counterfeit smile, asks, “How do you know Coach Montgomery?”

There are six in our group.  I’ve categorized them into makeup and non-makeup moms, three with makeup and two others including me, without.  Everyone slows their crunches when the big-boobed-blonde asks me about Cam.  I, on the other hand, did not have to slow down since I’m practically passed out on the ground.

“Well,” I think about how to answer, because a couple of these moms have been eyeing me with interest the entire workout.  I can tell they’re catty and probably hold officer positions in the bitchy mom club.  I look over and say, “I guess we officially met when he threw his drink on me.”

She stops mid crunch and sits up, not hiding her surprise, “He threw his drink on you?”

“Yeah, he was an asshole,” I say and struggle to pull up to my knees.  Zeke is looking down at my feet trying to hide a grin.

“How long have you known him?” she demands, downright frowning.

I fall back down to the ground breathing hard, “A little over a week.”

She’s gone from fake to frowning to shocked, “A week?”

“Uh-huh,” I groan, trying to pull up to my knees again.  If Zeke was being technical, this crunch should only count as half.

“Wow, Rachael,” I hear from my other side where a non-makeup mom is kicking some ab crunching booty.  “It only took her a week to get in there.  You’ve been trying for what, a year or more?”

“Amy, I cannot believe you said that.  I have not!” she yells.  Looking back to me, she reiterates angrily, “I have not.”

“Um, okay,” I widen my eyes and look up to Zeke who’s now biting back his full-on smile.  “You haven’t.”

“How much money have you laid out at The Shed in the last year and a half, Rach?  Between you doing boot camps and putting your kids in every training class under the sun?  You should really use your alimony for something more productive than snagging Cam Montgomery,” another mom says.  Surprisingly, this came from a makeup mom.  I guess they aren’t teamed up the way I thought.