The Billionaire’s Girlfriend Bet - Leslie North Page 0,5
pausing at each piece of equipment to check it out. She looked at the bench press, at two rowing machines, at a full wall of dumbbells and three squat racks. As she inspected the pieces, she explained to Blake the minimal signs of wear as she saw them, along with the signs of dangerous wear that she didn’t see—no seats or bases that seemed wobbly or unstable, no tension lines that seemed ragged or frayed. But once she was done checking everything out—including a wall of resistance bands—the conclusion was more than clear.
“Everything looks like it’s fine, honestly,” she said. “On your scale, I’d say they all fall at about an eight.”
He smirked, running his palm over the worn edges of the bench press seat. “And this?”
“Perfectly fine.”
“It looks a lot like crap to me,” he said.
“Crap would mean it has no value, and that’s not the case with any of these machines. Everything here is in perfect working order. Older, but still with plenty of life left,” she said. “Like this rowing machine here. I’d take something like that in a heartbeat if I found it on auction or something.”
Blake sent her a mysterious smile. “Well, that’s good to know. I’ll just donate it then.”
Her eyes widened. “So you want to get rid of all this and buy new? Even though it’s all still workable and only gently used?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
The suggestion was shocking to her, but she wasn’t sure how to convey that to someone like him. After all, he was wealthier than she could probably even imagine. And yet even if she won the lottery tomorrow, she couldn’t imagine herself being wasteful. It just wasn’t something she’d ever allow herself to be. She cleared her throat, looking down at her shoes, not failing to notice the broken shoestrings she’d tied together, to avoid having to buy new ones.
“I think my shoestrings explain everything,” she said with a laugh, lifting up a foot for him to see. “I broke my shoestring the other day. But instead of buying a new one, I used a Girl Scout knot. It probably falls on the crap side of your scale.”
Blake watched her for a moment, curiosity burning in his gaze. She knew nothing about him, so maybe the glint in his eyes was veiled disgust. It wouldn’t surprise her—her ex had mocked her frugality, and he hadn’t been anywhere close to Blake’s level of rich.
“But then again, I hold on to everything until I’m forced to throw it away,” she said, tightening her wrap around her. She didn’t need to show him the holes dotting the tank top underneath her work shirt. Yet another item she planned to wear as long as she could get away with.
“So you would keep the equipment,” he said slowly.
“As long as it’s safe and functional, why not?”
He smirked again. “I would consider keeping it all for a few more months, tops. I will be buying new equipment for this gym. But I’m glad to have your professional opinion that it can still be used, and possibly for a long time. Now I’ll just have to decide where to donate it.”
“I can help with that,” she said. “I’m still fairly new in town, but I’m sure there are organizations in San Francisco that would love to receive donated equipment like this. I can find the right contacts.”
That heartbreaker smile returned, and a dimple in his cheek flashed. “Great. I’d appreciate that.” He paused, his gaze raking over her body again. “Listen, do you have any plans for lunch?”
Her stomach grumbled immediately, as though on command. “Not exactly. Just was planning on heading back to the main gym and eating my packed lunch.”
“Can I take you out for a bite to eat? I want to thank you for coming out here to go over everything with me. And I know that you took time out of your workday.”
Her cheeks immediately heated up. The rational side of her knew that this was just a formal thank you from a man who regularly wined and dined everyone he did business with. But it still sounded like a date. And that was exciting just to think about, regardless of whether she needed, expected, or even wanted it to be real.
“It’s really no problem,” she said. “This is part of my job, after all.”
“Sure. So you’ll let me thank you? Lunch is on me, remember.”
She grinned. “I’ll let you thank me.”
He jerked his head toward the door, and the two