Free FIT: #1 in the Fit Trilogy by Rebekah Weatherspoon Page A

had to be dealt with immediately unless they wanted to answer to the network—they had to meet here.
    Three out of the four contestants had up and dropped out of the first episode. Violet and her team had spent all day pleading with them, trying to get them to reconsider. It was all so stupid. One chef from Boston found out he’d be competing against a former coworker and refused to share a kitchen with him, even though appearing on the show would guarantee exposure for his restaurant and possibly earn him a cash prize. The other guy dropped out when he heard about Chef A’s exit from God-knows who. He wouldn’t be on a show if his arch-cooking enemy felt he was too good for it. The third guy? Flying him out to Los Angeles from San Antonio would be a violation of his parole.
    Violet’s life seemed so pleasant just the day before. She’d followed Grant’s suggestion and taken herself shopping. Well, first she hit the internet and did some hardcore research about where she could find fun party dresses and not bland floral polyester tents in her size. She found two stores that caught her eye, then she took herself shopping, without Faye. No, that wasn’t it. It had nothing to do with Faye. It just felt so nice to do something for herself; leave her house when she wanted, without worrying about Patrick’s schedule. She teased Grant about getting under that perfect dress she found, but she couldn’t wait to wear it out, even if she wouldn’t get the chance until the next wrap party.
    Violet excused herself to go to the kitchen under the guise of needing a glass of water. When she was alone in the massive space, where she knew Dana didn’t prepare a single meal herself, she called Grant. It was getting late, but she had a feeling he would pick up. He did.
    “Hello, Miss Ryan. What can I do for you this evening?” Violet almost whimpered at the sound of his voice. She wanted to be with him.
    “You can come save me,” she replied.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. Just some ridiculous work shit. I’m out in Malibu.”
    “Having a cook-off?”
    “Ha, yeah. I don’t think I’ll be home until really late. Can we push our workout?”
    “Sure. How about we do this? You think you’ll have to work tomorrow night?”
    “Hopefully not.”
    “Come by the gym around nine. We’ll go for a walk and then afterwards—”
    “You’ll give me the D?”
    Grant’s rich laugh came through the phone. “Please stop saying that.”
    “I’m sorry. How about this? Please, oh please, Mr. Master Gibson. Oh please, will you fuck me? I want you to fuck me so bad.”
    “Dana said she had some gourmet pear juice we should try,” Faye said, as she appeared in the kitchen, scaring the crap out of Violet, who spun around and almost choked on her tongue.
    “I have to get back to work,” she said into the phone.
    “Okay. See you tomorrow?” Grant asked, clearly shocked by the sudden change in her voice.
    “Yeah. Night.” Violet managed not to be completely rude and let Grant get out his own “Goodnight” before she hung up the phone.
    Faye’s head popped above the fridge door. “Who was that?”
    “Oh, my trainer, Grant. I was just rescheduling our session for tomorrow.”
    “Cool. He must be good. You look great.”
    Violet’s stomach cringed at the loaded compliment. She’d lost a whole five pounds since they’d started working out together, five pounds that were composed of flushed water weight and maybe some fat in between her toes. When she looked in the mirror the only difference she saw was in her face, and that change had nothing to do with her weight. Her typical scowl, the creases of worry that were a constant part of her appearance because something was always on her mind, was replaced by this dreamy smile. Even early in the morning, she couldn’t stop smiling, thinking about Grant. But that smile was gone now and Faye knew nothing about it. Did she usually look like shit? Was she missing some other