The Gentle Dom Read online

  He would never have said anything, but he had to admit to being happy when Rec called a halt to the day. He wheeled himself into the locker room and just sat for a second, head down as he breathed.

  “Barclay? Hey. It’s all right. It’s going to be all right. You’re going to get there. It’s going to take work, but you are.”

  “I’m okay. I’m cool. Super. I just. I’m cool.”

  “When was the last time you had a meal out?” Rec asked, the question coming out of left field.

  “Pardon me?” Had he heard right?

  “Let’s go have lunch. Talk. Do something normal, you know?”

  “Why?” He blinked at himself. Jesus, Barclay. Don’t be a fucker. You love making friends, meeting people. At least he had up until fifteen fucking months ago. “God, that was rude. I’m sorry. If we can go somewhere super casual, I’d be happy to. I swear I’m not bad company, as a rule.”

  Rec laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “No problem. It’s maybe been a while since you did something normal like go to a restaurant, eh? There’s a Swiss Chalet just around the corner. You like chicken?”

  “Chicken is fine with me.” Although he could murder a smoothie. He loved the quick energy spike he got from them. They felt good going down too.

  “Cool. You want to take a shower first or you want to just go? I’m easy either way.”

  “Let’s just go. I’m passable, and this is a gym, right?” He wasn’t going to mention that he had yet to use the gym’s showers.

  “You’re totally passable. Let’s go. I’m starving.”

  “Yeah.” Barclay wheeled himself out, focusing on steady and sure, on control. He ignored how tired his muscles were. A meal and a bit of time would have him right as rain before he had to get himself home.

  They went right out of the gym, and sure enough, the Swiss Chalet was half a block down. It took them all of a minute to get to it. Rec held the door open for him.

  “Thanks.”

  They found a table, and he stayed in his chair instead of trying to switch. No way was he going to risk looking like a fool.

  They’d barely even opened their menus when their waitress showed up. “Hey, guys. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’ll just have water, please,” Rec answered.

  “Uh.” He wanted juice or a smoothie, but that wasn’t here. “Do you have lemonade?”

  “Sure thing, hon. I’ll give you guys a few minutes with the menu, and I’ll bring your rolls with the drinks.”

  “Thank you.” Rec met his gaze when she left. “We should probably look so we’re ready when she comes back.”

  “Right.” Barclay stared at the menu.

  “I know I should order the breast, but I really like the leg.” Rec looked torn. “Although, as I’m going to be eating all the skin—because yes, yum!—I suppose it doesn’t matter whether I have the dark or the light meat after that.”

  “I’m going for the pasta.”

  “I’ve never had the pasta here,” Rec admitted as he put aside his menu. “So are you a pasta fan because you like it or because you need the carbs?”

  “Because I need the carbs. I mean, I like pasta better than rice, and I’m hungry.”

  “That’s cool.” Rec pointed at the chair. “So how long ago did it happen?”

  “Fourteen months, two weeks, three days, fifteen hours.”

  “Over a year? No wonder you’re chomping at the bit to get into the gym.”

  “Yeah. I was in the hospital a while.” And then at his folks’. Finally he was on his own. It wasn’t pretty, but it had felt good to get out of his folks’ place. He loved them, but he was an adult; they weren’t supposed to be taking care of him anymore.

  “You’ve come for my guidance now, though. And you made it past the first and second session and actually showed up for the third. That’s how you know you’re really on the mend.” Rec gave him a wink.

  He didn’t know that he had a choice. He wasn’t ready to do something else—he needed to get back to work. “A friend of mine recommended you. He says you’re the best in the business.”

  “Oh now, you’ve got to let me know who I have to thank.” Rec had a great smile.

  “Tide Germaine. I know him professionally, and we happened to meet at the coffee shop a few weeks ago.” It had been well-timed as he’d been going in for his all clear to begin working out the following week. So he’d asked.

  Rec’s smile turned into a beam. “I’ll definitely have to thank him for that. He’s a great guy.”

  “He is. Hell of a hard worker.” Hot too, but not really Barclay’s type—a few too many muscles. He liked them a little leaner, more like Rec.

  “He does the gym proud, that’s for sure.”

  Their waitress came with their drinks and the promised rolls and butter. “You guys ready to order?”

  They ordered their meals, and when the waitress left again, Rec grabbed a roll. “Oh man, these are still warm. I love that.”

  Barclay took one, ate it because his body was demanding fuel. When he broke it open, steam escaped and the butter melted beautifully on it.

  “Good, eh?” Rec asked, offering him a smile, this one full-on directed at him.

  “Yeah. I’m starving, man.” He grabbed his lemonade and downed three-quarters of it.

  “I’m not surprised, given the exercise. You might find yourself hungrier now that you’re working out regularly. It’s a signal to your body that you’re serious about being well. Plus, you know, actually burning calories.”

  “Yeah.” He’d been doing body-weight stuff for a few months with a couple free weights, but at his own pace and just his arms.

  “So you’re a stuntman?” Rec asked.

  “Yeah. I mean, I’m not working right now, obviously, but I’ll be back to it soon.” He didn’t know anything else. The other option was living in fear that Duncan was going to come back and finish the job, and Barclay wasn’t going to do that.

  “You will be. I’ve seen how motivated you are, how willing to put in the work. So what was supposed to happen when you jumped? Did you miss the bag or something?”

  “There wasn’t a bag. I wasn’t supposed to fall.”

  “Oh. Oh man.” Rec winced. “So why did you?”

  Barclay shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

  It was a lie, at least partially. He didn’t remember much, and he wasn’t sure if what he did remember was correct. But he didn’t fall. That hadn’t been what happened at all; he was pretty sure of that.

  “That sucks. Hell, the whole thing does, doesn’t it? But it’s getting better. You’ll be jumping off roofs on purpose in no time, I bet.”

  “Yeah. I bet.” Even if the thought made him sick to his stomach right now. “I can’t wait.”

  “So what have you been doing with your time? Pick up any interesting hobbies?” Rec buttered himself another roll.

  “I surf a lot, I guess. Sleep a lot.” His days and nights were all messed up, totally backward. Having to come into the gym three times a week at a set time was actually his first taste of having a routine again, and he liked it. It felt like a step in the right direction anyway.

  “You miss being active, eh?”

  “Sure. I used to be going going going. I’m”—bored—“getting back to it.”

  Rec chuckled. “You’re bored. I get it. It would drive me nuts to not be able to do my job.”

  It sounded like Rec understood, given he’d known Barclay was bored without him having to say it. That was good, right? If Rec understood how this had set his entire life on its head, every bit of it.

  “Yeah. Well, my goal is to be out of the chair next month and back to work in three months.”

  “That might be pushing things a little, but I will do my best to get you there. Safely,” Rec added.

  Barclay wasn’t interested in safe; he just didn’t want to keep on dying.

  “So what kind of movies do you like?” Rec asked, looking like
he was actually interested rather than just making conversation.

  “Action-adventure. I watch some horror. I’m pretty easy, assuming there’s something going on to watch.”

  “While it’s not the only thing I watch, I’m a huge fan of all the comic book adaptations. I do marathons on a regular basis.” Rec talked with his hands a little when he became animated.

  “Yeah? That’s cool. Which one’s your favorite?”

  “I’ve got to go with the Thor movies. He’s yummy. Plus, I like the stories. And the brother. Mmm Loki.” Rec winked at him.

  Wait. Was Rec flirting with him?

  “Yeah. Yeah, he’s got that skinny evil thing going on.” The guy playing him could act his way around everyone else too, which didn’t hurt.

  “He does indeed.”

  Their waitress returned again, this time with their food. “You guys need anything else?”

  Rec glanced at him, then shook his head. “I don’t think so—this looks pretty good as is.”

  “Wave me down if you change your mind.” She headed over to another table, the place getting busier with the lunch crowd coming in.

  “It does look good.” Barclay dug in, finding that the pasta needed a load of salt and pepper. That was par for the course when it came to restaurant pasta. He ate quickly, his belly demanding he feed it.

  Rec pulled the skin off his chicken and set it to the side before devouring his meat, then his fries, then his coleslaw, in that order. When he was done with everything else, Rec ate his skin, moaning over it. “God, I love this stuff.” It was the first thing he’d said since they started eating. They’d both been focused on stuffing their faces.

  “It’s probably bad for you,” Barclay teased.

  “Are you kidding? It’s the worst. That’s why it tastes so damn good.” Rec laughed, eyes dancing. “Pretty much everything good is bad for you.”

  “No shit. I’m ready to be back to work so I can eat whatever I want.”

  “You a fan of popcorn?” Rec asked as he finished his water off.

  “I guess, yeah. The more butter the better.”

  “That’s how I like it too. You should come over this weekend and we’ll do a Marvel movie marathon.” Rec definitely had to be flirting with him.

  “Are you flirting with me? I mean, are you?” He didn’t want to get it wrong.

  Rec smiled, but it wasn’t mocking, it was warm, kind. “I am. Is that terribly unprofessional of me? I don’t think so. I mean, I’m only your trainer a few hours a week. And you’re hot.”

  “Okay, that’s good to hear. Thank you. I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about dates, but flirting, that I can handle.” He thought.

  “Then you’ll come to the movie marathon?” Rec asked, quickly adding, “It’s totally not a date. Just two guys hanging out together, watching hot guys beat things up.”

  “We’ll share numbers and, if you don’t get a better offer, sure.” Or Barclay decided not to leave his house ever again. There was a good chance it could happen. It did a fair bit.

  “I’m not going to get a better offer. If you’re worried about getting around, I could bring the movies and popcorn to you.”

  “No. No, I have…. It’s cool.” His place was a wreck and sad, and he didn’t let anyone come in.

  “Excellent. Then it’s a date. Or not a date—a get-together. I’ll give you my address, and you can come around ten or eleven?” Rec was a pushy bastard.

  “If you’re sure. What… what should I bring?”

  “Drinks? I’m partial to green tea lemonade.”

  “Green tea lemonade. Okay.” He’d pick some up at the store on the way.

  “Awesome. And whatever you want, of course. We’ll order a pizza when we get sick of popcorn.” Rec looked pleased.

  “I’ll have to look at the bus schedules, see how long I can stay.”

  “Oh, a marathon means late into the night. The couch pulls out into a bed. You can totally stay.” Rec wasn’t giving up or letting him use easy excuses, it seemed.

  “That’s a little far, isn’t it? For a nondate.”

  “A date would not involve pulling out the couch,” Rec noted drily.

  Barclay’s cheeks heated, and he suddenly couldn’t meet Rec’s eyes. Christ. Just tell the man yes and then cancel.

  “Look, I think you could use the day out of your apartment, out of your head, and watching movies is always better with someone else. Say yes already.” Definitely a pushy bastard.

  “Sure. Just let me get your number, huh?” There. That wasn’t a definite yes, but it should placate Rec.

  “No problem. Give me your phone and I’ll put it in your contacts. Meantime, you want some dessert?”

  He looked out the window toward the sky, which was clouding up but not ready to rain, not yet. “Maybe, yeah. Yeah.” He was definitely hungrier than he’d been before he’d finally started working out for real again.

  “Yeah, me too. I love the pecan pie. And the coconut cream pie. And the new cinnamon doughnuts are pretty good. I come here just for dessert sometimes, especially if I only have a little time between clients. I wind up spending a lot of time in the gym to make up for it.”

  “I’ve never met a doughnut I didn’t like,” Barclay admitted.

  “I’m more a cakes and pie man, but I hear you. Besides those little cinnamon doughnuts are pretty much cake.” Rec laughed. “One of the guys at the gym—well, Tide actually—he makes fun of my sweet tooth.”

  “He seems pretty strict, yeah.” The man was stacked to high heaven, and you could tell just by looking at him there wasn’t a bit of fat on the amazing body. Barclay had seen him eating a few times too—not a single carb had passed Tide’s lips on any of those occasions.

  “Oh, he’s a good guy. He likes everyone to think he’s all tough, but really, if you see him with his bo—his Lance, you can see he’s a softie.”

  “Is Lance the photographer? He was sweet to me.” Hadn’t pitied him either, which was always a plus in Barclay’s books.

  “Lance is the photographer. I’m glad he was good to you. I take it you met him when you first inquired about a personal trainer?” Rec raised his hand to get their waitress’s attention, nodding when she indicated she’d seen them.

  “Just briefly. He was heading out for a shoot as I was rolling in.”

  “He’s a good guy—works out on the ninja warrior course behind the gym. In fact, I think it was built with him in mind. Not that it isn’t getting a lot of use, but Tide may have pushed for it just for Lance.” Rec put his number in Barclay’s phone and handed it back to him.

  “I wanted to be on that show, once upon a time. Maybe next year.” He’d always been working when the tryouts had rolled around, though, so he’d never investigated going as a Canadian.

  “I thought maybe that was your kind of thing. I also think maybe graduating to that equipment would be a good incentive—something to work toward.” Rec pointed at Barclay’s phone. “If you send me a text, I’ll have your number too.”

  “Right.” He sent a text with his name and a smiley face.

  Rec checked his phone and laughed softly. “That’s great.”

  Their waitress finally came back to clear their plates. “Can I get you some dessert or coffee?”

  “Yeah, we’d like some dessert, please. A piece of pecan pie and the doughnuts.” Rec glanced at him. “You want to try anything else? If we share, it’s not even like we’re having a complete dessert on our own.”

  Except that they were having two of them.

  “No, that’s plenty. Seriously.”

  “Good choice! You passed the test.” Rec gave him a wink before telling their waitress that the two desserts were all they needed.

  “There was a test?” Hell, he knew how much work he needed to do to make up his calories.

  Rec chuckled and shook his head. “Nah. Not on your first week. And I’d totally buy you an extra dessert if you wanted one.”

  “I’m really okay.�
� He found a smile. God, he was suddenly pooped. Worn out. Like the food had reminded his body that he’d just worked out and needed to nap now he’d refueled. He was glad they were doing dessert so he didn’t have to get himself home yet.

  “Cool.” Rec tilted his head. “If it’s not too forward to ask—how are you getting home?”

  “The bus. I live about two kilometers from here. I can wheel it, but it’s a challenge.” A challenge he wasn’t up to after working out.

  “And not right after working out,” Rec noted, echoing his own thoughts. “Especially your first day doing the full routine. I could push you, though. No offense intended, but I thought food would perk you up a bit, but you honestly don’t look up to the bus.”

  “Do I look that bad? Really?”

  “You don’t look bad—you look tired. I’m comparing from when you first came in earlier. You seem a little pale now.” Rec shrugged. “It wouldn’t be any bother—I’m planning a run this afternoon anyway, so a brisk walk as warm-up would be cool.”

  “I wouldn’t mind the company, I guess.” Or the help. If he wasn’t putting Rec out, which it seemed he wasn’t.

  “Great! I’d just hate to abandon you to the bus when it’s not necessary.”

  Rec turned his attention to the waitress as she came back with their desserts. “You can put them in the middle—we’re going to share.”

  “Sure. You guys enjoy.” The waitress nodded at them, smiled, then walked away.

  “We will enjoy, hmm?” Rec offered Barclay a fork, then stole one of the doughnuts, dipping it in the caramel sauce and popping the whole thing into his mouth.

  “How’s the sauce?” Barclay took one doughnut and split it with his fork. It was crispy on the outside and cakey on the inside, and best of all, it was still piping hot, steam rising from where he’d split it.

  Rec swallowed before saying “Delicious.”

  Barclay tried a little bit, finding that the salt cut the sweet just enough. He went back for a bigger bite the second time and dunked it in the caramel sauce.

  Rec smiled as he ate it. “Good, eh? For a doughnut. You’ll have to try the pecan pie next.”

  “It’s good, yeah. I like it. Of course, doughnuts are good.” He had yet to meet one he didn’t like.