Page 14

Chapter 14

Wyatt

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” I hoist the strap for my yoga mat over my shoulder and shut the door on my truck.

“Oh yes, twisted your arm, didn’t I? If memory serves, I made a suggestion, and you jumped right on board.” Mom, whose hair has faded to a much lighter shade of purple, hops down from her seat, water bottle and mat in tow. She’s right, but I normally wouldn’t have agreed without some pushing. If I'm going to sell this, I’d better do some complaining now.

We make our way across the field to the fenced-in area next to a faded red barn. Then again, if I wasn’t here to mediate, who knows what trouble Marge would have gotten into. She needs supervision.

“Remember, Mom. Please don’t start anything today. Moxie is going to be here. Don’t scare off my girlfriend.”

“I’m not the one who starts it,” she says, which is only accurate about 50 percent of the time.

“Even if she starts something, don’t take the bait. Be civil to her for one day. Don’t you want her to see your son happy with another girl? Treat it like a secret mission.”

“A mission, huh? I like that, but these pants are way too bright for sleuthing. Ah, look who it is! Hello Moxie, dear.” She waves her hand around like a magician who needs a hell of a lot more practice with their distraction techniques. “Go get your girl. I’ll busy myself over here.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a steadying breath. She lets herself in the gate, calling out greetings to her friends and doling out hugs.Across the parking lot, Moxie strolls over with a yoga mat bouncing off her swaying hips.

“You made it,” I say.

“Fitness this early should be illegal. Being awake this early should be illegal.”

I chuckle. “Right, you’re a dealer. Probably more of a night owl.”

She yawns. “Definitely.”

I lean in and whisper, “Can I kiss your cheek?” She nods, and I press my lips to her soft skin in what I hope is a believable greeting for a new couple.

“Here, let me take that for you.” I throw her mat over my shoulder. The rolled-up foam is light, but at least I can feel like I'm being useful.

I set us up in the back corner. I know better than to downward dog in front of this collection of cougars.

“Marge is here!” One of the women exclaims. “Oh, and she brought Hannah!”

“Here we go,” Moxie mutters as Hannah holds open the gate for her mom, politely accepting the group’s overwhelming greetings. Marge’s hair, usually gray, is hot pink. Behind her, strolling across the field from the parking lot, her posse is a rainbow of brilliantly dyed hair too.

There’s no age limit on fun hair colors, but I’ve never once seen any of these women rocking anything but natural colors until Mom’s dye incident. My eyes snap to Mom. Her jaw tenses, and I can practically hear her teeth grinding even from far away. Leave it to them to somehow turn hair dye into a competition.

I glare at Mom, willing her to keep it together. She winks and performs a series of complicated hand gestures as if baseball coach is her side hustle. I don’t know what any of her gesticulations mean.

The opposite of subtle, Mom’s movement quickly catches Hannah’s attention. She sees Moxie and me and makes her way over. The field goes silent as everyone watches with such rapt attention it’s like they think she’s about to slap me.

She winks at us as she draws near, then loudly says, “Moxie! Wyatt! I didn’t know you two were going to be here.” She gives us each a hug. Marge’s eyes look like they’re about to pop right out of her head, and my mom’s mouth hangs open. If nothing else, our friendly show has distracted them from duking it out over dye.

When Hannah pulls away and sets up her mat in an open spot nearby, whispers erupt all around us. There’s not an ounce of subtlety to be found in this field. The drama is interrupted when a young woman enters the gate.

“Hi everyone! I’m Chelsea and I'll be teaching today’s class. Find a spot to set up your mat. I think we have one or two more people coming. For those of you who are new to our class, thank you for coming. This is just like regular yoga classes except we have our young goats joining us. Being with animals has been shown to help reduce stress levels. Don’t be surprised if they wander around, and they might even climb on top of you while you are in a pose. Once we’re all settled, I’ll get our four-legged friends. Remember to stay calm; sudden movements could startle the goats, and we don’t want goats or humans getting hurt.”

At Chelsea’s words, the rest of the class disperses. A couple of the women in this group are notorious flirts, especially with younger men. The mostly older women scramble like a bunch of overgrown preschoolers in a very intense game of musical chairs. They fill in every spot except for the one next to me. I sneak a quick pit check. Mountain fresh; that’s not the problem.

Maybe having a girlfriend with me acts as a deterrent, or maybe they’re just trying to stay out of the blast zone should Hannah and I erupt.

Chelsea returns to the gate with four goats at her side. A tiny goat with black and white patches hops over to a woman up front, who laughs and pets it. Two average-size goats split up, weaving between mats and along the fence sides, testing the enclosure's edges. A larger white goat bleats and stamps a hoof. Its glassy eye seems to be set in my direction.

“Is that goat staring at me?” I ask.

“Yes,” Moxie answers, leaning away.

“Should I be concerned?”

“Maybe?” Hannah’s voice rises to a nervous squeak.

The goat charges, and I leap to my feet, ready to run. It’s got horns that I’m not keen to interact with. Yep, time to go. I spin, covering the few feet between me and the wire fence in two long strides, and I leap. I get an unexpected boost over the fence when the goat head butts me, ramming a horn straight at my ass. The pain makes me instinctively ball up, and I topple to the grass.

“Wyatt!” Moxie, Mom, and Hannah shriek in unison.

“You’re not supposed to run,” Chelsea says with what feels like an inadequate level of concern for what the situation warrants.

My butt is throbbing.

“That would have been a helpful tidbit about thirty seconds ago,” I grumble.I’m supposed to know those rules for bears and mountain lions. Not evil goats.

“I said stay calm.” Chelsea shrugs.

After realizing I’m not in any mortal peril, I’m surrounded by mouths pressed tight into thin lines, trying not to laugh. It hurts like hell, but with a few seconds of hindsight, I can see the humor in it. My laugh grants the rest of the group permission. Being laughed at by a large group of predominately older women, an ex, and the woman I'm currently fake dating, was not how I planned on spending my morning.

I limp back to the fence and extend a hand to the goat, who sniffs it and walks away disinterested. I watch him for a few more seconds to make sure he doesn’t change his mind. Mom scurries over and extends an entirely useless hand to “help” me back over.

“What are you doing?” she whispers. “We’re in enemy territory, and you’ve got a girlfriend to impress. Stop wasting time playing with goats.”

My jaw drops. “Are you kidding? That thing attacked me.”

“Nonsense. Look how cute he is.”

I glare at the goat. The goat glares back.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t prepared for it to charge me.”

“Think on your feet! Does the river tell you when it’s going to send you a wave?” She returns to her mat. There’s no point arguing with her, so I do the same.

“Sorry about that,” Chelsea says. “He’s never done that before. He’s usually very friendly.”

“I guess I’m just lucky, huh?” I wink, and Moxie shakes her head next to me.“If your ass needs care, we are not at that level. The extent of my fake girlfriendly duties will be driving you to urgent care.”

“Thanks for the heads up, but I think I'll be alright.”

Chelsea moves to the front and begins the class. The goats roaming around make for a much more casual atmosphere than a regular yoga class, and whispered conversations continue while everyone follows the positions Chelsea demonstrates.

The first few poses are far less comfortable than usual with the pain in my rear end.

“That’s great everyone. Now let’s do some partner stretches.” Suddenly I'm very grateful for the pain. It might be the only thing that saves me from a prominent erection if I'm doing partner poses with Moxie. Since we’re here to show everyone just how smitten we are, there’s really no choice other than to do them with her.

“Are you okay with this?” I ask.

“Yes, are you?” she whispers.

“Yeah, I'm good.”

“First we’ll do seated grounding pose,” Chelsea says, then demonstrates the back-to-back cross-legged pose with Helena as her partner.

I rest my back against Moxie, and we clasp our palms together, out from our sides. Every point of contact between our bodies, of which there are currently many, is electrified. Though we’re supposed to be relaxing into the stretch, I'm doing my very best to focus on the pain. It’s hard when I can feel Moxie’s breath quickening as her chest expands and contracts against my back.

“Great job, everyone. Now let’s tilt into seated crescent,” Chelsea says.

We tilt together, her fingertips dusting along my wrist before settling back into place. It sends a tingling sensation up my arm. I didn’t think about interacting so closely with Moxie while my mom and her posse watch.

“Now let’s move to a seated twist. Place your hand on your partner’s inner thigh like this, and I want you to really feel that stretch.”

I swallow in anticipation, then slowly twist. The deliberate movement with her body shifting in sync with mine feels far more erotic than even our shared kiss the other night. I tentatively place my hand on her thigh, and her leg twitches.

“You sure you’re alright? You seem a little jumpy,” I whisper.

“I’m good. You’re good. Sorry.” She heaves in a deep breath, and I find myself matching my breathing to hers until, as instructed, she places her hand on my thigh too. Pain. Literal pain in the ass. Remember the pain.

Chelsea walks us through a few more stretches, and my skin feels scalding with arousal. I’m doing my best to keep my dick under control, but honestly, who could blame me in a situation like this? Finally, she calls an end to the partner stretches and instructs everyone to get some water before we return to solo poses.

I glance over at Moxie, whose face is flushed. “You know that thing we practiced?” she whispers.

I dig my nails into my palm, trying to calm myself. “Yes.”

“Everyone’s watching us. Maybe we should... you know.”

I glance around. We do have a few spectators, but the goats are diverting most people’s attention. She’s right that we should kiss again if we’re trying to show everyone we’re head over heels for each other, but I think she’s so turned on, she wants a kiss to alleviate it.

I lean in, wanting to scoop her into my arms, but my mom is watching. She leans in too, and our lips collide. It serves to scratch the itch of the desperate desire that was building between us throughout the stretches, but the relief is short lived, as her taste and the feel of her mouth on mine sends me into overdrive and feeds my desperation.

“Moxie,” I breathe, forcing a break in the kiss and rolling away from her to wrestle myself back under control.

“Sorry, I needed to,” she says, before guzzling her water. I nod, because I know exactly how she felt.

“Well done, you two. They’re buying it!” Hannah whispers. I look up, and now every eye in the field is on us. It didn’t feel the slightest bit like an act, but if our goal was to show the moms that my interest is in Moxie, we’ve certainly succeeded at that. Hannah plays her part well too, smiling in a completely unbothered way.

Moxie and Hannah chat during the break as if they’re on stage for the crowd.

The class resumes, and one of the medium-sized goats steals the show, having the time of his life squeezing underneath the arched bodies of everyone in the class, one at a time. I manage to calm myself and carry on with the poses, even though my mind is taking me elsewhere and scolding me for turning her down the other night.

Moxie crashes to her mat from her perfect tiger pose, startling me from my thoughts.

“Hey, I think that goat is watching you again,” she says.

I quickly zero in on him, and those beady eyes are staring me down hard. I’ve never seen anything so menacing. Be cool.

Chelsea guides us toward a wide-legged forward bend, which feels awfully exposed with an evil goat staring me down.

“Easy, buddy,” I whisper, as I enter the pose without taking my eyes off him.

He cockily saunters over as if he knows I’m terrified of him.

“Nice goat.” I try to become one of those alpha creatures that have the entire animal kingdom respecting their authority, but I think this damn goat smells my sweat.

He bends his head toward my groin, and my life flashes before my eyes. I cringe, covering my junk with my hand, and brace for impact. There’s a tugging at my shorts, and I peek a one-eyed glance to see the goat nibbling at my pocket. I bat him away, but he keeps nibbling.

“Shoo, goat,” Moxie says, half-heartedly.

“So helpful,” I mutter.

She laughs as she twists herself into the next pose. “Come on, it’s a little funny.”

“You’re not the one who was gored.”

“We’ve changed poses. See if you can switch to cat pose, everyone,” Chelsea says, and a quick look around reveals that I've fallen behind and that she’s talking to me. Everyone else is smoothly moving to more vulnerable positions.

The goat continues to tug at my shorts, and they slide precariously lower on my waist. I’m not about to have this goat cause me to flash everyone here. I tug my shorts back up and try again to nudge the goat away, but he persists, nipping at my clothes. I grunt in frustration, desperately holding my shorts up, but my battle has attracted some attention. I give the goat one more gentle nudge, and he steps away. Before I can feel any sense of relief, Marge gasps.

“Oh my God, I think he’s going to mount Wyatt!”

My eyes widen, as mental images well beyond the Kama Sutra assault my brain.

“His name is Napoleon,” Chelsea says, and I glare at her for her lack of helpful interference.

“As in the conqueror?” My voice shakes.

“Yep,” she says, and it’s safe to say Chelsea is not going to be receiving a positive review.

“I do not consent to be mounted, Napoleon,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice soothing.

“I feel like I should do something, but I don’t know what.” Moxie abandons her pose and puts her hands up in front of her like maybe she can just give him a little shove.

I’m about to stand back up and take my chances with a second attempt at running away, when my hands are slammed back into the ground. The goat has leapt onto my back, where he returns to nipping at my shorts. That’s when I remember I stashed half a muffin in my pocket. Anyone who lives near the mountains knows better than to have accessible food around lest they attract wild animals. I should have known better than to have a pocketful of treats around the goats. Rookie maneuver. The belated realization comes as the fabric tears free and muffin crumbs go flying in all directions.

The field erupts into chaos as the other goats rush toward the food. It’s a miniature stampede and I'm at the center. The two little ones bleat loudly as they search the ground for crumbs. The other large one frames up on Napoleon, who has a chunk of my shorts and a bright turquoise patch of fabric with dancing yellow bananas printed on it hanging from its teeth. Goat number two lunges and gets a hold of the fabric, and the whole class stares agape as the goat tug-of-war over my boxers commences.

In a moment of poor decision making, I yell, “Give me back my shorts, you thief!”

The yell attracts their attention, and they both turn on me. I hurriedly back up, knocking over an elderly woman in cat’s pose. I spin in time to watch in horror as the domino effect of squeals and falling yoga poses tumbles yogi after yogi to the ground.

Still unsatisfied with the chaos he has unleashed, Napoleon charges after me again. I sprint in circles around the edges of the class, vaguely recalling Chelsea’s advice against running but unable to think of a better option in the moment.

I finally leap the fence once more and collapse into an exhausted heap.

“I think we’ll call it for today,” Chelsea says as she rushes towrangle the goats.

“At least I still got a workout in,” I mutter. Moxie helps me up while I hold the large gap in my shorts together.

Across the field, Marge is tugging Hannah out the gate, but her eyes are on my mom. Mom’s eyes are on Moxie and me, smiling at us arm in arm. Somehow this managed to be both a disaster of epic proportions and a great success.

“You alright?” Moxie asks me.

“Mostly just wounded pride. You good?”

She bites her lip as she considers. “Yeah, but that was a lot.” Between the palpable hostility between the two sides and the sexual tension between Moxie and me, I have to agree. I’m wound up tight and ready to snap.

“When did you say you have to work?” I ask her.

“Not until tonight. You?”

“I’ve got three back-to-back tours tomorrow, but today I'm free as a bird. What do you say to relieving some of this stress?”

Her eyes ignite, and I realize the implied innuendo, which is probably cruel given I recently turned down her invitation.

“What did you have in mind?” she asks.

“How are you with an axe?”