Page 11 of Reptile Dysfunction (Harmony Glen #11)
Chapter Ten
T had
“This bad boy,” Sloane pats one of the deceptively benign-looking machines in our Pilates room, “is called the reformer. It’s just a sliding platform with springs for resistance,” Sloane explains, demonstrating the machine’s basic movements.
“Thad, we’ll start you on light resistance since it’s your first time. ”
My snakes bristle at the implied challenge. First time. Like I haven’t been teaching swimming for five years, maintaining peak physical condition. Like I need to be handled with kid gloves just because I’ve never done this before.
“I don’t have to start with baby steps.” The edge in my voice surprises even me. “I can handle more resistance.”
I get distracted for a moment, as Sloane’s fitted workout gear commands all of my concentration—as well as my snakes’, who keep trying to get a better view when she demonstrates positions.
She arches an eyebrow. “It’s not about strength. It’s about control and proper form.”
From their spots along the south wall, the Silver Swimmers exchange knowing looks. They’ve been suspiciously eager, given none of them had touched this machine before today.
“I know about control.” My voice drops lower, remembering how her lips felt against mine when we kissed. Several snakes sigh dreamily, completely ruining my attempt at nonchalance.
“Prove it.” She pats the sliding carriage. “Light resistance first. Unless you’re scared?”
That does it. I lay back on the platform, trying to ignore how the machine creaks under my size. My snakes arrange themselves around my head, several watching Sloane with unabashed interest as she adjusts my position.
“Shoulders down,” she instructs, her hands briskly clinical but still managing to send heat through my tank top. “Engage your core. Now push out slowly—slowly, Thaddeus!”
But I’m already extending my legs with more force than necessary, the carriage sliding back with a metallic clang. See? Easy. Just because I’m bigger than their average client doesn’t mean…
“Holy shit,” I mutter as muscles I didn’t know existed protest. My snakes flail like startled eels—one dives behind my ear, another hisses betrayal.
“I said slowly.” Sloane’s voice holds equal parts amusement and concern. “This isn’t about powering through. It’s about controlled movement and proper alignment.”
“I am controlled.” But even my snakes know that’s a lie.
“Again,” she says. “This time, actually listen to my cues.”
For the next twenty minutes, I manage to follow instructions—mostly. Turns out, once I stop fighting it, the machine stretches all kinds of neglected muscles.
When Sloane demonstrates something called a “long stretch” for the class, she practically folds in half while pushing the carriage. My competitive instincts kick in.
“I can do that,” I declare, even as my snakes express doubts with worried hisses.
“Thaddeus.” Her tone carries a warning. “That’s an advanced move. You need to build up to—”
But I’m already positioning myself, determined to prove I can handle whatever this overpriced sliding board can throw at me. I mean, I used to keep entire communities in line through sheer intimidation. How hard can one Pilates move be?
The answer is, as it turns out, very hard.
The first push goes okay—my strength compensating for lack of technique. A dull ache reminds me to be careful, but I push through it. However, on the return, the twinge explodes into sharp, debilitating pain. My snakes all cramp simultaneously, creating a crown of distressed serpents above my head.
“Shit,” I growl, trying to straighten up. But my back has other ideas, spasming in a way that makes even breathing difficult.
“Don’t move.” Sloane is beside me instantly, her hands supporting my lower back. “This is exactly why we start with the basics.”
The Silver Swimmers cluck sympathetically, though I swear I hear Iris whisper something about “stubborn men” to Mabel.
“I’m fine,” I insist, but despite my denials, my snakes droop pathetically. One particularly dramatic one actually plays dead, flopping limply over my forehead.
“Yes. Fine. Clearly.” Sloane’s dry tone does nothing to hide her concern. “Can you make it to the mat area? We need to assess the damage.”
Through sheer stubbornness, I manage to get off the Reformer without embarrassing myself further. But each step sends shooting pain up my spine and deep into my right butt cheek.
“Lie face down,” Sloane instructs, gesturing to a mat in the corner. “Carefully.”
The other students have moved to different equipment, though I notice the Silver Swimmers keeping a worried eye on me. Great. By tomorrow, the whole town will know the former enforcer was taken down by a piece of exercise equipment.
“This might help.” Sloane’s hands are surprisingly strong as they work the knotted muscles in my lower back. “Though you really should see someone about this. I know a great massage therapist who works with monster clients.”
“Not necessary,” I grunt, though her touch is already providing some relief. “Just need to walk it off.”
“Right. Because that macho attitude worked so well five minutes ago.”
She pauses for a beat, her fingers pressing into a knot more gently. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” Then, quickly, “Especially when I warned you first.”
Her fingers remain gentle as they find particularly tender spots. “Your snakes are still cramping. All of them.”
She’s right. My hair is a mess of twisted, uncomfortable serpents.
“Drama Queens,” I mutter, though if I could moan in pain without totally humiliating myself, I would. They’re just manifesting the pain I’m trying to hide.
“They’re honest,” Sloane says softly. “Unlike someone I know who’s too proud to admit when he’s hurting.”
Before I can respond, another spasm hits, making every snake on my head curl into defensive positions.
“That’s it.” She stands, wiping her hands on a towel. “Class is over for you. Can you make it home?”
“I have swimming lessons—”
“Not today, you don’t.” Her tone brooks no argument. “I’m calling Sebastian to cover your classes.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Too late.” She’s already typing on her phone. “He says he’ll handle it.”
Sebastion. Wonderful. Now my entire family will know I was defeated by a sliding platform with springs. Some scary enforcer I turned out to be.
“I have some muscle-cramping cream in my swimming bag,” Iris offers.
“I can still ride my bike,” I insist, trying to sit up. Every snake on my head immediately protests with alarmed hisses.
“Like hell, you can.” Sloane’s eyes narrow. “That back spasm isn’t something to ignore. The doctor will want to see this—muscle injuries like this can take weeks to heal properly if you don’t rest them. For now, I’m driving you home. No arguments.”
“In what? That tiny sports car you drive?”
“My car is in for maintenance. I have my dad’s SUV today. It even has heated seats that recline.” She helps me stand, ignoring my wounded pride. “Unless you’d prefer I call your brother for a ride? I’m sure he and the Silver Swimmers would love to discuss your form.”
“I vote for heated seats.”
“I’ve dealt with some of the most difficult monsters in a three-state area, and it’s a long stretch that does me in.”
While I sit with an ice pack on my back, Sloane heads to the locker room to change out of her workout clothes.
The drive home is an exercise in humiliation, made worse by my snakes’ dramatic reactions to every bump in the road. Sterling keeps trying to hide his face in Sloane’s hair, while others alternate between pained hisses and accusatory glares at me for ignoring their earlier warnings.
“Stop pouting,” Sloane says as we approach my water tower. “Everyone overdoes it sometimes.”
“I don’t overdo anything.” But even I don’t believe that lie.
When she parks the SUV and I raise the reclined seat to upright, my back spasms again, and I barely contain a groan. Every snake on my head is curled into a pained little ball; their usual intimidating swagger is completely forgotten.
“I don’t want an argument, Thad, you hear me? I’m going to help you upstairs. It will probably be at least two weeks before this heals properly,” she continues, her tone as firm as I’ve ever heard it. “And that’s only if you actually rest it.”
Just trying to sit up straight pulls a yelp of pain from somewhere deep inside me.
“Fine,” I manage through gritted teeth. “But if you tell anyone about this—”
“What? You’ll intimidate me?” Her smile is unfairly attractive. “Pretty sure that ship sailed when your snakes started doing the happy dance every time I walk into the room.”
One snake groans. Another flips onto his back as if he’s been mortally shamed.