“Yeah, I wasn’t aware we were bringing dates to workouts now,” added Zayne, chuckling a little to himself.
“There’s a yoga studio three blocks that way.” Donny settled back down under the bar, gripping and regripping to find the best placement for his hands. “Probably where she belongs.”
Damn it, she was going to distract someone and get them hurt. Michael walked over toward her, trying hard not to look like he was hurrying. “So, Kat—”
“Can you spot me while you’re here?” she asked, pulling one earbud from her ear by the cord. “Or should I ask someone else? I can always work on the machines if you don’t have the time to spot,” she added, shooting a longing look toward the free weights.
“I’ve got time.” Why did he say that? He could have gotten off free and clear by just saying he had another meeting to get to. Or he wasn’t allowed to spot for fear of getting injured.
Or he could nut up and just spot the lady. She couldn’t possibly want to work out for that long.
He watched as she surveyed the equipment, then chose the inclined bench. He waited for her cue on how much weight to add onto the bar, which already weighed forty-five pounds itself.
She looked at the bench, the bar, then the weights on the ground. “Twenty-fives,” she decided, reaching to the bottom for the largest circular weight.
“Uh, no.” She was going to get herself killed. He reached out to halt her arm from tugging, finding himself perversely disappointed he was grabbing the slick wicking fabric of her hoodie rather than the soft skin of her arm. “Let’s see how you do with fives.”
“Fives.” She stared at him like he’d asked her to bench-press a bug. “Fives. You’re kidding, right? You want me to sit here and waste my time with fifty-five pounds.”
So she knew how much the bar weighed. Points for her. But not enough points to make him watch her rip a tendon or bust the equipment. Firmly he said, “Start with fives.”
She watched him, and he could almost see her mentally calculating how much giving in would hurt. Finally she shrugged. “Fives.”
Settling down at the seat, she looked up, then laughed and stood back up to adjust the height. Bonus points for knowing how high or low the seat should be for optimum safety. Then she settled down below him, waiting for him to help her unrack the bar.
When he did—his arms doing a double take at the light weight when he was used to spotting linemen benching five times as much—she huffed out a breath, adjusting her grip just a little. But he knew it wasn’t a huff of effort… more like annoyance as she slowly and fluidly pushed out a set of ten.
And that was the final kicker for him. She could have shown off, busting out a set in jerky, top-speed fashion just to show she could. It would have been stupid, and unsafe, but she could have. He knew guys whose pride would have demanded it. But despite the obviously too-light weight, she still went through the motions smoothly, leaving no margin for error or injury. His respect for her in the weight room tripled.
After she reracked the bar herself, with minimal guidance from him, she twisted to look up at him. “Can we go up now, please?”
“Yeah, fine.” He helped her put on the twenty-fives, noticing that more than a few guys were elbowing each other to point.
Donny called out, “Watch it, Lambert. That’s too much for a little thing like her.”
“Little,” he heard Kat growl under her breath as she laid back against the bench. “Little, my ass.”
Despite her height, to Donny, who was six four and over three hundred pounds, she was a tiny thing.
“Just be careful,” he said in a low voice, giving her a look. He expected exasperation back, but she simply nodded in understanding, waited for him to unrack the bar, then began her set.
It wasn’t a cakewalk, but she also didn’t struggle except on number ten. But he waited until she’d extended fully before grabbing the bar to rack it.
“Nice,” he said, truly impressed.
“Thanks.” She rolled her neck, then looked around quickly. “It’s hot in here.”
“Male bodies plus energy will do that.”
After a final set of incline presses, she unzipped her hoodie a little, barely showing off the top edge of her sports bra before walking over to the squat machine.
Frankly, he’d been waiting for her to whip the top shirt off entirely, showing off her toned body for the guys, flaunt around acting helpless, brushing up against players and causing trouble. Trouble was, after all, her middle name. Instead, she seemed content to work out alone, minus the spotting, staying out of the way and using the equipment properly.
And that showed him what assumptions could do for ya. She was honestly concerned with getting a workout in.