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?”