Page 9

9

JP

“I’m not going to this yoga class by myself.” I frown at Everly. We’re sitting on a patio having a Friday happy-hour drink.

“What do you mean? I’m going.”

“I mean, I don’t want to be the only guy there.”

She laughs. “Why not? Seems like good odds to get lucky.”

We’ve been talking about ways for me to manage my feelings so they don’t control me and come out at the wrong time. Everly’s not a psychologist, but she’s smart, and I’ve confided in her my goal of controlling my emotions on the ice better this year to improve my game. For some reason, I feel like she gets it, and she surprisingly has some insight into it. From a couple of comments she makes, I have the impression she’s had to learn some strategies herself. Not that she’s angry . . . I don’t think?

Apparently, Taylor convinced Everly to go to this yoga class on the water, and Everly’s trying to drag me along, telling me yoga will be good stress relief and help me feel calmer. I’m not convinced of that, but what the hell, I’ll give it a shot. Falling in the water is the worst that can happen, which isn’t the end of the world.

I’m more worried about seeing Taylor again, to be honest. Because even though I’m pissed at her for not telling me she had a boyfriend when we slept together, and probably using me to make him jealous, which resulted in my split lip, I’m still mega attracted to her. But I can’t go there.

That volleyball game last weekend just about killed me, watching her run around in those short shorts and tight T-shirt, her smile beaming brighter than the sun. Seeing that little girl gaze at her adoringly—which is kinda what I wanted to do, and that really pissed me off.

She slept with me while she was with another guy. Not going there again.

“Another thing you could try is knitting.”

I stare blankly at Everly. “What?”

“Knitting. It’s good stress relief.”

“Ha ha. I am not going to knit.”

She shrugs. “Think about it.”

“Sure. Is, uh, Taylor going to be at the class?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I’m surprised she’s not in Nashville.”

Everly’s eyebrows pull together. “Why would she be in Nashville?”

“With Martinez.” I shrug casually.

“They’re not together,” Everly says as if I’m a not-so-bright two-year-old.

Huh? “She’s not seeing him anymore?”

“No.” Everly frowns. “They broke up when he moved away.”

“Then why the fuck did he jump me at the wedding?” I grip my glass so hard it nearly shatters.

“I can’t answer that question.” She shrugs. “I presume he got jealous seeing you with her and realized he made a mistake letting her go. I think that’s basically what he told her the next day.”

“She said he came and apologized. I thought it meant they got back together.” Pressure builds inside me, the kind that makes me blow up. I take a deep breath.

“Nope. And good for her. He was an idiot to just leave like that. Doesn’t say much for his ability to actually maintain a relationship.”

“So . . . at the wedding . . . they weren’t together.”

“No.” She squints at me. “You thought they were?”

“Yeah.”

“You thought you were dancing with another man’s girlfriend?”

“No!” I inhale slowly through my nose. “I had no idea they’d ever been together. I thought she was single.” I pause, eyeing Everly. I guess Taylor didn’t tell her about our sexcapades at the wedding. “We, uh, did more than dance.” I shift in my chair. “Don’t ask for any more details because I’m not talking.”

Her eyes fly open wide now. “Holy shit.” Her eyelashes flutter up and down rapidly. “Taylor never said anything.”

“Which is why I’m not either.”

She tips her head to one side. “You thought you slept with another man’s girlfriend. Again.”

“Yeah.” I sigh heavily.

For a moment she says nothing, her lips pursed. Then, “You’re actually a good guy, JP.”

I rub a hand over my face. “Not really.”

She slowly turns her head from side to side, smiling. “Whatever.”

“She’s not still seeing him.”

Her lips lift at the corners in a near smirk. “Yes, that’s what we’ve established. So are you coming to yoga class or not?”

I grin. “Oh, hell yeah.” I experience a sensation of lightness in my chest, a little rush of adrenaline that has my hands tingling. Taylor’s not seeing Martinez. This is the best news I’ve heard since we clinched a playoff spot last year.

“Oh, hey, I have an idea.” Everly grabs her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting Harrison. We’ll get him to come too.”

“Huh.”

Harrison is her brother—my uncle, but he’s the same age as me. We just played against each other the other night. I grin, remembering the bone-crushing check into the boards I gave him late in the first period.

“There.” She drops her phone and smiles. “Now you won’t be the only guy there. The idea of a bunch of women doing downward dog in bikinis convinced him.”

“Bikinis?” I lift an eyebrow hopefully. “They do yoga in bikinis?” Taylor in a bikini on a paddleboard . . .

“No.”

I laugh. “Damn. Whatever.”

We arrange to meet at the harbor around nine thirty, before class starts at ten. Harrison’s going to meet us there too.

Harrison has a twin brother, Asher, and another brother, Noah. Grandpa and Chelsea were popping out babies left and right twenty-some years ago, the same time my mom and dad were. My dad didn’t like that. He thought it was fucked up that his father was having babies at the same time he was. He never liked Chelsea. He thought she married Grandpa for his money and only had kids so she could claim massive child support when she ditched him. Now their kids are adults and that hasn’t happened, but to this day things are strained between Dad and Grandpa and Chelsea. Of course, the lawsuit Dad and Uncle Mark filed against Grandpa doesn’t help any.

It’s an overcast morning when I arrive at the marina. The sky is pale, the air damp and chilly against my skin. The ocean washes ashore in slow, easy laps, the water a smooth, silvery blue. This area is a popular spot for families with small kids, as it has a roped-off swimming and wading area where the water is nice and calm. We won’t have to deal with big waves on our paddleboards. Piece of cake.

I’m alert and fidgety, drumming my fingers on my car in the parking lot, shifting from one foot to the other. I scan the area for any sign of Taylor. No luck.

Harrison pulls up, parks on the black asphalt in the lot, and jumps out of his SUV.

“Hey, man.”

“Yo.” We do a bro shake. “What the hell has Everly got us into?” he says.

“Eh. Not sure. But I have a feeling they expect us to make fools of ourselves.” We meander toward the building that houses Makara Yoga.

“It’s yoga. How hard can it be?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Everly and Taylor arrive a minute later. My eyes go straight to Taylor and connect with hers. I experience a little sizzle in my gut.

I smile and she slows her steps, her eyes widening.

She could be mine. My heart thumps and I can’t stop smiling.

Taylor shakes her head and drags her gaze away from me.

Everly heads straight toward us, Taylor tagging along behind.

“You actually came!” Everly says to us with a big smile.

“Sure. You thought we’d bail?”

“I did wonder.”

“Hi, Taylor,” I say, keeping my voice even.

“Hi.”

“Taylor, this is my brother Harrison. Harrison, Taylor Hart.”

Harrison shakes her hand, his smile appreciative. “Nice to meet you.”

I want to punch him.

“You too,” she says. “I watched you play the other night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You were at the game?” I interject, frowning.

“Yeah.” She smiles, nodding.

“Huh.” I can’t believe I didn’t know she was there. “Guess you saw my penalty shot goal, then.”

“I did.” Her cheeks get a little pink. “Even though you play for the wrong team, it was pretty good.” She hitches one shoulder.

“Pretty good! It was amazing.”

“It kinda was,” Harrison acknowledges, and I hold out a fist for him to bump.

“Thanks, man. Appreciate that.”

“Hi, everybody!” a female voice calls out from near the front door of the building. “I’m Arya Ross. I’m the owner of Makara Yoga and your instructor today. I see we have a few newcomers to the class.”

She smiles at me and Harrison, then Everly.

“Holy shit,” Harrison mutters to me. “She’s hot.”

“She looks like every other chick you date.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Whatever.” Harrison definitely has a thing for blondes. I guess objectively Arya is good-looking—long gold hair in a bouncy ponytail, smooth tanned skin, and a big smile. Wearing a cropped bra top and leggings, her body is slim and toned.

I’d rather look at Taylor, though.

She’s wearing a similar outfit, with an open zipped hoodie over it. I take in her taut abs, the only skin I can see right now, her flowered leggings hugging her perfect legs. She catches me staring and lifts an eyebrow.

I smile.

She turns away, but that just gives me an excellent view of her perfect ass in that stretchy fabric.

“Wonder if she’d like to join me for some downward doggy-style later,” Harrison says in a low voice, jerking his head toward our instructor.

I try not to laugh. “Douche.”

He moves over to Arya and extends a hand. “Hi, I’m Harrison.”

“Nice to meet you, Harrison.”

“Looking forward to class. I’m looking forward to experiencing a higher consciousness.”

She gives him an amused look. “Well, good. Let’s get started.”

We head out onto the water with our boards. The class is ninety minutes long, but the first part of it is spent making sure we know how to paddle our boards, so we paddle around a bit, which is easy; I’ve done this many times. Then Arya directs us into place and shows us how to lower the anchors we all have so we don’t float away.

“Even if you’ve never done yoga, or never been on a paddleboard, you should be able to follow along,” Arya says. “We’re going to go through a Vinyasa yoga flow, which has been customized for the paddleboard.”

“Vin what?” Harrison says next to me.

I shrug.

“I want to be closer to the instructor,” he says to me in a loud whisper.

I roll my eyes but paddle along with him. This brings me closer to Taylor, so win-win.

We start off sitting cross-legged on the board, hands on our knees, focusing on our breathing. We’re supposed to close our eyes, but I meet Harrison’s and we both make faces.

Then I swallow a sigh. I really should at least give this an honest shot.

“Okay, open your eyes.” Arya changes her pose. “Let’s position ourselves on our boards, palms directly underneath our shoulders.”

I watch Taylor instead of the instructor, taking in her smooth movements as she gets onto hands and knees. Of course this makes me think dirty thoughts about having her like that in front of me . . .

“Knees directly under your hips,” Arya calls out. “And tuck your toes under.”

I watch what Taylor does and emulate her as Arya talks us through arching our backs, then curving them the other way. When Taylor does it, it looks graceful and supple. I feel like I’m stiff and awkward, but I keep going.

“Feel your breath pulling your spine on the inhale,” Arya says. “Okay, curl your tailbone down into our first child’s pose.”

“Curl your tailbone?” Harrison says skeptically.

I have to smile. He looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

“Walk your hands out in front of you,” Arya directs us. “This is a really good way to ground your energy.”

I choke on a laugh as I see Harrison, arms stretched out in front of him, banging his forehead repeatedly against the paddleboard.

We move into downward-facing dog. My hamstrings protest, and yet Arya tells us to walk our feet back even more. “Jesus,” I mutter.

“I know,” Harrison responds, his jaw clenched.

We’re supposed to move our hands forward, asses up in the air, and the board wobbles beneath me, making me pause.

“Bend your knees and stick those sit bones up nice and high.”

“Sit bones,” Harrison says with a laugh, this time loud enough for Arya to hear.

She gives him a quick, quelling glance.

At least it’s him in trouble with the teacher, not me, unlike most of my school years.

“Press one heel down.”

I grunt as this stretches the back of my thigh and calf, and bite back a curse.

“And switch it out.” We do this a few more times. “Find one more breath . . . and steadiness . . . Inhale . . .”

Eventually we move into standing positions, which is more challenging in terms of balance. I watch Taylor again as we bend over, chin to chest, hands to the paddleboard. I’m tight and I know I look nothing like Taylor, who’s literally folded in half, her head nearly touching her shins. Wow. Talk about flexible.

I glance over at Arya, who’s the same.

The next move fucking kills my hamstrings again. I’ve always been tight there, so this is brutal.

Arya apparently notices Harrison and me struggling. “If it gets too intense, bend the knee,” she says gently.

I wrinkle my nose, unwilling to give in.

We do a few more poses, and when we get to a high plank pose that we then lower into a push-up position, I’m good. I can do this.

“Exhale and bring your hands to heart center.”

Harrison and I exchange another look as we press our palms together in front of our chests.

But then we’re doing a one-legged pose with one foot on the opposite thigh. I’m wobbling, the board is wobbling, but I listen to Arya talk about pressing down into my left big toe, which oddly helps. It’s satisfying to find that balance and center myself.

Splash!

The surprise almost makes me fall over, and I bark out a laugh at seeing Harrison in the water. “Way to go, man.”

His smile is rueful as he shakes water out of his hair.

“It’s fine,” Arya says with a smile. “Climb back on and pick up again.”

Dripping, Harrison gets back on the board and attempts the pose again.

I’m following along as we do another downward dog pose, but when we have our heads down between our hands and Arya tells us to walk our feet closer, my jaw drops. What the fuck?

I watch as everyone else does a handstand, their feet actually leaving the board. Should I even try?

If Taylor can do it, so can I. I tentatively lift one foot, and sway. My foot drops back down. I keep trying, but it is not going to work. I watch in awe as Taylor balances, not just on her forearms, but on a board floating on the goddamn ocean. This is my new life goal.

“If you’re comfortable, lift your legs into a headstand position,” Arya calls.

A few women do it, although Taylor stays as she is. Arya’s legs slowly rise, and her body is straight, upside down, not even shaking. I glance at Harrison, who’s staring at her, slack-jawed.

“This is too much,” he says.

Arya’s mouth twitches, but she doesn’t move.

At last we’re finished, ending the session stretched out on our boards, facing the sky. “Look up to the clouds,” Arya says. “Feel your breath leaving your body.”

“Feel the weight of the world on your chest, crushing you,” Harrison says. “Life means nothing.”

Arya lets out a little snort, obviously having heard him. “If you experience humor in yoga, that’s also good.”

This is nice and relaxing. I turn my head to look over at Taylor.

Our gazes collide like freeway pileup.

She’s looking at me too. Instead of looking away, I hold her gaze. Heat builds around me, despite the cool ocean water surrounding us. Our gazes link for the stretched-out, quiet moment of peace and relaxation . . . and arousal. Dammit.

Arya ends the pose with a soft tone, and we begin paddling back to shore. I do feel . . . well, it’s hard to describe. I feel both peaceful and energized.

As we get closer to the beach, my board is bumped hard, startling me out of my calm mood. I try to get my balance, but it’s a lost cause and I crash into the water. Spluttering, I turn to glare at Harrison, who’s sitting on his board with his paddle in his hands, laughing his ass off.

“That’s for that hit the other night, asshole,” he says.

“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head. Good thing I actually like him.

The women around us are all hiding smiles behind their hands and exchanging amused glances. Glad we’re entertaining.

We’re close enough that I can walk to shore, so I tug my board along after me and trudge onto the sand.

Taylor and Everly are already there, grinning.

“Well you almost made it through the class without falling in the water,” Taylor says. “Guess I win the bet.”

“What bet?” I frown.

“I bet you you couldn’t make it through a class without falling in the water, remember?”

Oh right. “I did make it through class, though. If this asshole hadn’t dumped me, I’d still be dry. Besides, we never agreed on what we were betting.”

“You could buy us lunch,” Everly says. “Too bad you guys aren’t in any shape to join us.”

“I have dry clothes in my car.” I lift my chin. “But I’m not buying lunch, because technically I didn’t lose the bet.” That’s total bullshit; of course I’m going to pay for lunch.

No way am I missing out on lunch with Taylor. I have to figure out a way to get her alone at some point . . .

Inside the yoga studio, we can see another class going on through a glass door. Harrison and I change in the locker room and meet Taylor and Everly outside the entrance. The sky is clearing, with patches of blue showing, the air warming a little.

“How about Bandit’s?” Everly suggests, gesturing at the nearby restaurant.

“I was just there last weekend,” Taylor says. “But that’s fine—I love their shrimp.”

“Wait, maybe we should invite Arya to join us,” Harrison says.

I smack the back of his head. “I don’t think you impressed her.”

“She has another class anyway,” Taylor says, fighting a smile.

We walk over, palm trees swaying around us, and enter the casual restaurant. We get a table for four and I make sure Taylor’s sitting right across from me.

“She’s single, right?” Harrison asks after we order.

“Who?” I frown. “Oh, Arya.”

“I think she has a boyfriend,” Taylor replies apologetically.

“Damn.” Harrison pushes out his bottom lip and stirs his Coke with the straw. “Ah well.”

“Why were you guys such idiots during the class?” Everly asks.

“Idiots?” I frown. “Not me. It was him.” I point at Harrison.

He gives a guilty grimace, then changes the subject, looking at me. “What are you doing tonight?”

I’d made plans, but I can get out of them if I can just talk to Taylor and ask her out. “Not sure,” I hedge. “Some of the guys are going to Sharky’s to play pool and drink some brews.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Abs, Copper, and Dutch.”

He nods.

Those guys are my best buds. They’ll totally understand if I bail on them. I just want to get this lunch over so everyone else leaves and I can corner Taylor and . . .

“I have a date tonight,” Everly says.

“Oh!” Taylor leans forward. “That’s awesome. Who with?”

“Dan Diaz.”

I frown. “Isn’t he the mayor of Santa Monica?”

“Yes.” Everly flicks her hair back.

Taylor’s eyes pop wide open. “You’re going out with the mayor?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t he like sixty years old?” Harrison demands.

“He’s not that old.” Everly gives him a derisive look.

“Way older than you.” He scowls.

“So?” She lifts one shoulder. “I like older men. They’re more mature.”

She grew up with a dad who was forty-something when she was born. Wonder if that has something to do with it. Ha. Look at me being an amateur psychologist. What the hell do I know.

“Wow,” Taylor says. “I hope it goes well.”

Our eyes meet and I can see she’s uncertain about this too. We share a look of understanding. Warmth spreads through me at the feeling of connection.

Our server brings our food and we pause our conversation for a moment.

“How about you, Taylor?” Everly asks when the server has left. “What are your plans tonight?”

I perk up. I could even suggest something right now if it works out right . . .

“I’m going out for dinner.” Her eyes flicker in my direction as she unrolls her cutlery from the paper napkin.

Everly flicks a glance my way, her mouth tightening. “Oh. Who with?”

“A guy I met online. Anthony.”

I freeze. Anthony? What the fuck?

“You’re seeing him again?” Everly leans forward.

“This’ll be the third date.” Her eyelashes flutter again. “We met for drinks one night, and he took me to the hockey game the other night.”

Fuck! I curl my hands into fists beneath the table, staring at my food.

“Oh.” Everly sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, sliding her eyes my way again. “Well. That’s . . . good.”

Tension flows off me in waves. I don’t think Harrison is picking up on it, but clearly Everly and Taylor are. Taylor keeps shooting me jumpy glances.

Thank fuck I didn’t ask her out. I close my eyes, imagining being shot down in front of everyone.

“So, uh, where are you going?” Everly asks.

“Delgado.”

I snort. “You’re kidding.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Taylor lifts her glass of ice water to her lips and meets my eyes.

“Hipster bar. They serve things like hand-pulled bison with homespun rice. Frightened tuna with distressed fennel.”

Everly and Harrison crack up.

Taylor shakes her head, one corner of her mouth lifting. “Sounds interesting.”

“Hopefully he’s not as pretentious as the menu.” I pick up my fried shrimp po’ boy sandwich. It’s messy as hell, dripping with coleslaw and tomatoes. Real food. Except I’m not so hungry anymore.

“He’s not pretentious.” Taylor’s voice has an edge. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Nice. Okay.” I let my disdain color my tone. “Sounds boring.”

Heat washes through me and I feel sweat building under my arms and on my back. I want to throw my sandwich across the room, shove my chair back, and blast out of here.

I risk a glance at Taylor. Our eyes meet with a flash of heat and light and her cheeks turn rosy. Has she had sex with this fuckwacker? Because I know for a fact she wasn’t bored with me in my hotel room.

Her cheeks now are scarlet. Good. She’s remembering too.

Everly shoots me a warning glance, her head tilted, eyes wide.

I know, I’m being an asshole. Whatever.