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“Yes.” He sounded breathless.

We’d barely finished our warm-up. Slowly, I placed a hand on his left hip. “Pull back at the hips and bring your head between your forearms. Think of an inverted V.” He repositioned with my help, jutting his hips back. Firm muscle shifted beneath my fingertips. I recoiled hastily, too aware of his strength. “Good, good.”

He peeked between his arms to grin up at me, his smile endearing. I’d never noticed before, but one front tooth was twisted, just a hair, enough to keep his grin warm and real instead of Hollywood-perfect. Something about that crooked smile disarmed me, and my professional demeanor wavered as I noticed other tiny details about Drew. The way his back and arms rippled with muscles. The tiny mole near his elbow. How his firm glutes brushed my thigh. That casual contact shouldn’t have felt electric, but it did. And I had permission to touch him.

Hastily, I distanced myself. He was a student. Nothing more.

I led the class through a vinyasa, flowing from down dog to plank and seal. Drew followed, seeming to get more comfortable as class progressed. He lacked the flexibility of my other students, but he made up for it in pure masculine grace. Each arch and flex threatened to distract me from the next pose. I mixed up right and left, flushing when one of my regulars corrected me.

“Sorry, everybody.”

Drew lingered after class, taking his time wiping down his mat and returning his yoga blocks to the shelves as I wished the rest of my students goodbye.

“So, what did you think?” I braced myself for a less-than-stellar review.

There was no way he’d suddenly decided to try yoga without an ulterior motive. Even if it was just to get Violet off his back for not using his gift certificate.

“That was a great way to start my morning. Thank you.” His deep voice radiated sincerity. He did look more relaxed. The tiny frown lines that made his face appear so serious had eased.

Pleasantly surprised, I grinned. “You’re very welcome.”

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee as an apology for waiting so long to try?”

“There’s no need to apologize, but I wouldn’t mind a cup. Did you want to walk down to Harbor Brews? I have an hour before my next class.”

A flash of something I couldn’t read distorted his features before he nodded.

I locked the front door, snuggling further into my fleece. The sun was up, but it was hidden behind a bank of clouds. Drew put a hand to my elbow as we picked our way across a section of sidewalk where the roots of a large tree had created cracks.

The morning ferry line was full. Cars waited for the first boat from Anacortes to arrive, its passengers to disembark, and for those on island to start their journey to the mainland. The downtown eateries and coffee shops buzzed with activity as ferry riders grabbed a snack for the boat, and Harbor Brews was no different.

“Do you want a latte or a drip? How do you take your coffee?” Drew asked.

“Either is fine. I’m easy.”

He gave me a dark look. “Tell me what you want, Sunny Girl, so I can get it for you.”

I bit my bottom lip. He looked so serious. Like something as simple as my coffee preference mattered to him. Was this Drew’s idea of flirting? If so, it was surprisingly effective.

“A regular coffee with lots of cream and a sweetener sounds good this morning.”

“Grab a seat, and I’ll bring it to you.” He turned on his heel, striding for the counter, ignoring the lineup of people. He slid behind Zach and Isa, snagged two mugs and filled them from the carafe. He doctored each cup, returning with steaming mugs.

“I would have waited,” I said, feeling guilty he’d bypassed the line.

He shrugged, seeming immune to Zach’s glare and the handful of other patrons who’d raised brows when he acted like he owned the place. “It’s fine. Zach runs Harbor Brews. He’s family.”

I envied the way he took it for granted. That you could rely on family.

“What about everyone else waiting for their coffee?” I asked.

“When they’ve put up with Zach for thirty years, they can get free coffee too,” he promised, adding a broad grin.

The switch to playful from the usually serious man made me chuckle, shaking my head. “You seem to get along well.”

“Usually. So long as he keeps his flirting focused on his own dates.” He said it just as I sipped.

Coffee dribbled out of my mouth, my jaw slack. Hastily, I mopped the drops of dark liquid off my sweatshirt. Any shot I had at appearing cool had died, but I still put on a brave face. I arched a brow. “Is this a date?”