Spring Secrets - Allie Boniface Page 0,1

In Whispering Pines? Probably not. But maybe in England...

“You didn’t have to come,” she said to Jason. “You know what my family’s like. They make a big deal about everything.”

“You getting the Allbright is a big deal.” He looked at his lap as he said it, and his ears reddened. He had a rash on one side of his neck from shaving, and his hair needed trimming. He dug one hand into his pocket and pulled out a small, wrinkled envelope. “I got you something.”

Sienna flushed. “You shouldn’t have.”

He shrugged. “I know we aren’t together right now.” He gave her a hopeful look out of the corner of his eye.

I don’t think we’ll be together ever again. She couldn’t say those words out loud. They’d wound him too deeply. But she knew Jason Kingsley wasn’t the guy for her. He dreamed of staying in Whispering Pines and raising a family and becoming the minister at the Valley Presbyterian Church, and there was nothing wrong with any of that—except none of it was Sienna’s dream.

He handed her the envelope. “I wanted to get you something practical. Something you could use while you’re in England.”

A credit card? A pass for the Tube? She opened the envelope and pulled out a small slip of paper. Introduction to Self-Defense. Six Week Course. Springer Fitness.

“Self-defense?”

“I thought it might be helpful in case...” He reddened even further. “I don’t know, in case...I mean, you’ll be living by yourself. I don’t know how safe it is over there.” He reached over and squeezed her upper arm. “You aren’t exactly made of muscle.”

DASHIELL SPRINGER GRUNTED and shoved up the chest press bar one last time. His arms shook and sweat ran down his face, but he got it all the way up.

“Hell, man, two ninety-five.” Zane Andrews, Dash’s best friend, took the bar and set it on the rack. “Nice job.”

Dash sat up and mopped his face. “Thanks.” He took a long drink of water and draped the towel around his neck.

Zane surveyed the gym, half full at four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon. “It looks good in here. More and more people all the time.”

Dash stood, his legs still wobbly from the squats they’d done earlier. “New Year’s resolutions brought in a bunch of new ones.” He hoped they wouldn’t stop coming by the time February rolled around. “I got some new classes I’m tryin’ out, starting next week. Pilates on Saturday mornings and kickboxing Tuesday and Thursday nights. And that six-week personal training course, heavy on the self-defense depending on who shows up to take it. Figured I’ll give it a go. Couple people bought gift certificates for it over the holidays , so that’s somethin’.”

Only a year into the gym-owning business, he was still trying to see what appealed to the Whispering Pines residents. Small group training, full classes, short-term passes, discounts...he was trying it all. For now he kept the place open seven days a week, with shorter hours on the weekends. He experimented with what he offered, and slowly, his membership was growing. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of that. He’d come back to Whispering Pines with nothing but twenty bucks in his wallet and a dream of leaving the last six years behind him. Eighteen months after leaving California, he was making a go of it.

Zane wiped his face, finished his water, and headed for the door. “Have a good one, man. See you tomorrow.”

“Likewise.”

Dash took a quick shower and then walked to the front of the gym, dressed in a clean pair of workout pants and a red-collared shirt with Springer Fitness embroidered over the pocket. “How’s things?” he asked Hans, the twenty-year-old manning the desk.

“Good. One new full membership, and two women came in for a tour.”

Dash flipped through paperwork and glanced outside. Yesterday’s snow had stopped, but he could tell by the white streams coming from pedestrians’ mouths that the frigid temperatures remained.

“Days like this, don’t you miss L.A.?” Hans asked.

“Nah.”

“Seriously?” The kid rested his arms on the desk. “I’d be out there in a minute if I could afford it. Sunshine, beaches, women in bikinis.” He grinned. “Is it true? Is everything out there silicone and Botox?”

Dash pulled up last month’s spreadsheets. “Most of it.”

“I don’t think I’d care. Fake or real, if I can put my hands on it, it’s good enough for me.”

“It gets old after a while,” Dash said, eyes on his computer screen.

“How long were you out there?”

“Too long. Six