Out of the blue, p.1
Out of the Blue, page 1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Alison Bliss
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Bliss, Alison, author.
Title: Out of the blue / Alison Bliss.
Description: First edition. | New York : Forever, 2022. | Series: A perfect fit
Identifiers: LCCN 2021041295 | ISBN 9781538764589 (trade paperback) |
ISBN 9781538764572 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Single women--Fiction. | Overweight women--Fiction | Personal trainers--Fiction. | LCGFT: Romance fiction. | Humorous fiction. |
Novels.
Classification: LCC PS3602.L574 O98 2022 | DDC 813/.6--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021041295
ISBNs: 978-1-5387-6458-9 (trade paperback), 978-1-5387-6457-2 (ebook)
E3-20211115-DA-NF-ORI
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Acknowledgments
Discover More
About the Author
Also by Alison Bliss
Praise for Alison Bliss
To my aunt Annie Ruth,
thank you for all the love and support.
It means a lot!
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Author’s Note
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for picking up a copy of Out of the Blue! Before the story begins, I want to share with you what prompted my interest in writing a novel featuring a plus-size heroine and her oh-so-hot personal trainer.
A few years ago, I was in the same situation as Preslee. I was prediabetic and needed to make some lifestyle changes. So I hired a personal trainer to help me protect my health. Now, keep in mind that I’m a happily married woman, and I assure you that this story is not autobiographical in any other way. But with my personal trainer’s help, I was able to improve my fitness and repair the damage I had done to my health.
That’s why this story matters. That’s why this story is so personal to me. But Preslee’s story is not a weight loss journey. It’s a wellness journey about how Preslee took action to achieve her goals and grew in confidence along the way. And since I’m a romance author, the situation was undoubtedly destined to become a love story. I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter One
Preslee Owens sat in her green Honda Accord outside the Body Shop, daring herself to go inside. If her vehicle had needed repairs, she wouldn’t have hesitated to stroll through the doors and ask someone for help. But since it was her plus-size figure that needed the overhaul, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about doing so.
After all, it was like a bad joke. Preslee Owens walks into a gym…
Only she also happened to be the punch line.
At twenty-eight, she had never once set foot inside a gym before. She realized how ridiculous that sounded since most people had probably played sports at some point in their life or, at the very least, taken a physical education class during their school years.
But not Preslee. She’d been homeschooled all of her life and had never had any interest in sports. Not only because she was clumsy but because most sports took place outdoors and she couldn’t fathom the idea of standing out in the Texas heat any longer than necessary. Who in their right mind likes to sweat?
Okay, she guessed some people did. But not her.
The only physical activity she’d participated in on a regular basis as a child consisted of her taking out the trash or washing the dishes. Neither of which had ever gotten her heart rate up high enough to be considered exercise.
Well, unless she counted the time she’d burned a pan of lasagna in the oven until it was completely black. Even after soaking the pan in hot, soapy water overnight, she’d scrubbed it so long and hard the next day that she’d nearly passed out from the effort.
That’s what I get for adding a ridiculous amount of cheese.
Preslee sighed. Clearly, her diet hadn’t helped matters either. She’d always eaten whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She’d never paid any attention to the number of calories in each serving, much less considered the negative impact that her poor choices might have on her health. Well, until now.
She glanced sullenly at the untouched cream-filled snack cake she’d tossed into her center console on her way to work. Though it was still calling her name, she hadn’t eaten it at lunch like she’d planned. She couldn’t. Not after what her doctor had said when he’d called this morning with her test results.
Last week’s appointment with Dr. Fowler had started out as a routine annual physical. But when he’d noticed that Preslee’s blood pressure was a little high and that she had gained weight, he asked about her family’s medical history with diabetes, high blood pressure, low HDL cholesterol and high triglycerides, and even gestational diabetes. None of which she had an answer for.
At three weeks old, Preslee had been adopted by a childless couple who’d been unable to conceive on their own. Because they weren’t blood relatives, she had zero knowledge of her biological family’s medical history. Therefore, Dr. Fowler’s preliminary screening hadn’t been able to produce any helpful information to adequately gauge her health risks.
So he’d done the only thing he could. He’d ordered some lab tests of her fasting glucose level, oral glucose tolerance level, and A1C. All of which determined whether or not she had impaired glucose levels.
At the time, Preslee hadn’t been concerned. After all, she was young and hadn’t experienced any health issues that would indicate anything was wrong. Sure, she’d gained some extra weight and her blood pressure was a little high, but neither seemed like much to worry about on their own.
Still, the determined Dr. Fowler had refused to take no for an answer. Although she loved having the elderly man as her doctor, the persistent grump glowered when he didn’t get his way. Without a doubt, he would’ve harped on her until the end of time—or at least until his death—if she hadn’t conceded and taken the damn tests.
Maybe that wouldn’t have bothered most people since they probably never ran into their doctors outside of their offices. Unfortunately, Preslee didn’t have that luxury. Her father lived next door to the man. Besides that, Granite, Texas, was a small town, and it wasn’t unusual for her to run into Dr. Fowler several times a week. Often at the post office, occasionally at the grocery store, sometimes in the bakery, and he even knew where she worked. Jeez. Nowhere was safe.
So Preslee had sucked it up and agreed to the tests. She’d stopped eating at eight o’clock the night before and woke up early the next morning to drive herself to the nearest lab in the next town over to have her blood drawn. All the while feeling like she’d been starving for weeks and had sand trickling down her dry, scratchy throat.
Yeah, fasting sucked.
Thank goodness she didn’t know any top-secret government intelligence. If anyone ever wanted to torture her for information, all they’d have to do was refuse her food or water for about twelve hours. She’d tell them everything they ever wanted to know. And probably then some.
Over the past week, however, Preslee had forgotten all about those dang tests and—thankfully—her horrible fasting experience. That was, until the doctor had called this morning to give her the upsetting result
Although the medical term sounded ominous, Dr. Fowler had assured her that it wasn’t the worst thing he could’ve found and it was completely reversible if she took action now. Then he’d urged her to change her crappy diet and become more physically active in order to lose some weight and get her glucose levels back to normal.
Right. Because it was just that simple.
Maybe the optimistic doctor hadn’t realized that he’d just asked her to change her entire lifestyle, but he had. And whether she liked it or not, that was going to take some seriously hard work on her part. But she didn’t have a choice. Her health was at stake, and she wanted—no, needed—to take this seriously. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be long before she dropped the pre and was left with only diabetic.
Preslee cringed and then hauled in a deep breath. “Better go inside and get this over with.”
She waited purposely for two young guys to enter the gym before sliding out of her car and adjusting her tight outfit. She’d purchased her workout attire at a local shop during her lunch hour without trying it on, and the clothing was more fitted to her body than she normally preferred. Like a lot more fitted. But it couldn’t be helped. She’d bought the items in the largest size available and had hoped for the best. It wasn’t like small towns had many options when it came to clothing stores. Especially for a plus-size woman.
She was only a respectable C cup at best, so at least the blue sports bra kept her boobs in place. Even if the straps dug uncomfortably into her shoulders. And the black calf-length leggings? Yeah, those had gifted her with an unpleasant wedgie that constantly needed to be picked.
Still, the workout clothes seemed somehow necessary…though she’d hidden both articles under a loose, oversize T-shirt. The idea was that looking—or rather feeling—the part would help motivate her. Or, at the very least, keep her from standing out in the gym like a brick in a pile of pennies.
Yeah, right. Good luck with that. She’d been sitting outside in her car for almost thirty minutes, and everyone she’d seen entering or leaving the gym had all been way more physically fit than her. Some of her workout clothes may have matched theirs, but the shape of her full-figured body didn’t.
Preslee glanced back at the gym doors, and nervous energy raced through her veins once more. She swiped the back of her hand over her brow. God, she was already sweating profusely, and she hadn’t even started working out yet. Maybe she could just do that for a daily workout instead. Park outside the gym and panic for half an hour at the terrifying thought of going inside.
Hell, at that rate, I’d be skinny by the end of the month.
Preslee fought back a grin at the silly thought and then shook her head. Okay, enough. She couldn’t allow herself to stall any longer. She was going through those gym doors, whether she liked it or not. Woman the hell up.
With another frustrated sigh, she heaved herself in the direction of the Body Shop’s entrance, her sheer determination forcing one foot in front of the other.
Too bad she didn’t get far.
Preslee had been so focused on the doors and talking herself into walking through them that she misjudged the curb and caught the toe of her sneaker on the edge of it. She tripped, stumbling forward with arms flailing, before landing on all fours onto the hard concrete sidewalk. Pain ripped through her as the metal car keys in her right hand stabbed into her palm and rough cement scraped both knees.
Ouch! Dang it.
Wincing, she rolled over to sit on her butt and checked her palm first. A purplish indention marred her right hand, and while it hurt a little, at least the skin wasn’t broken. So she dusted off her dirty palms and then rolled up her leggings to check her knees. Angry red patches glared back at her where the concrete had skinned them, and a small cut marked her left knee where a sharp rock must’ve bitten into the skin.
She was bleeding too. Great.
As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough, a truck chose that moment to rumble into the parking lot and pull into a nearby space. The last thing she wanted was for someone to walk up and find her sitting on the ground looking like an idiot. So Preslee quickly hobbled to her feet and limped toward the gym’s entrance. She probably should’ve gone home to clean her bleeding knee, but dang it, there was no way she was going to give herself an out. If she did, she had no doubt that she would take it and never come back.
Uh-uh. No way. She was going to do this even if it killed her. And, at this rate, chances were good that it probably would…since she hadn’t even made it into the building without hurting herself.
She shook her head. Gym, one. Preslee, zero.
As she opened the glass door and stepped inside, a rush of cool air wafted over her, and she let out a contented sigh. Thank God. She hadn’t been entirely sure whether the gym would have air-conditioning or not. But now that she thought about it, any building that wasn’t climate-controlled in the South Texas heat would probably be a death trap for everyone inside.
Preslee glanced around and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The large one-room space was of substantial size and had a warehouse feel with high ceilings and black rubber floors. Mirrors lined the back wall, and there were rows of machines and other equipment available for use toward the front of the gym. While the place wasn’t exactly packed, there were a dozen or so people scattered throughout.
Her gaze landed on the check-in desk to her left, and she moved toward it, trying not to limp. A blond male stood behind the counter. He looked to be in maybe his late twenties or early thirties, and his large biceps bulged against the tight sleeves of his black T-shirt that sported a white Body Shop logo.
He glanced up from a clipboard as she approached, and surprise registered in his eyes before he managed to mask it with a good-natured smile and a friendly hello. She might’ve been insulted if it hadn’t been for the fact that she was just as surprised as he was that she was inside a gym. “Uh, hi. Is this where I sign up for a new membership?”
He nodded and leaned on the counter with one hand. “Yes, ma’am. Are you looking for monthly or yearly?”
“Um, monthly, I guess.” Jeez. That almost sounded like a question.
His smile widened. “All right,” he said, reaching for a paper and sliding it across the counter with a pen. “Here’s a form you’ll need to fill out. The monthly rates are at the bottom, and the gym rules and other helpful information are on the back. But feel free to let me know if you have any questions. My name’s Kurt, and I’m the manager.”
Preslee nodded. “Great, thanks. By the way, you don’t happen to have a Band-Aid back there, do you?” She held up her knee to show the small amount of blood oozing from it. “I scuffed it in the parking lot on my way in.”
“Let me check.” He pulled a first aid kit from beneath the counter, popped it open, and rifled through the contents. “Hmm, we should probably restock this kit. Looks like this is the only thing we have left,” he said, holding up a long white bandage. Then he shrugged. “It might work.”
She accepted it. “It’ll do. Thank you.”
After applying the bandage to the small cut, she realized she couldn’t cover it with her leggings without the stretchy fabric pulling tight across her sore knee. And that hurt too much. So instead she left her legging up over her kneecap and hoped that no one would notice how dumb it looked.
She glanced back up at Kurt, who wore an amused grin on his face. Well, no one else anyway.
The gym manager continued to smile as she moved off to the side and read over the information on the form he’d given her. She couldn’t really blame him. Although he didn’t say as much, she looked like she was wearing a panty liner on her knee.
When she was done filling out the form, she slid it back across the counter along with his pen. He asked for photo identification, which she provided, and then she paid him her first monthly fee.
Once they completed the entire transaction, Kurt handed her a black, plastic membership card with the Body Shop logo on it. “You’re all set. Any questions?”
Yes, but she was too embarrassed to ask them. “Nope.”
His smile weakened, and his voice softened, as if he knew she was lying. “All right. Well, I’m here if you change your mind.”
