Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“No worries,” I say, softening toward him. “That’s true of most strengths, honestly. But yoga helps with that, too. The more you learn to be present in any given moment, the more you’re able to access exactly the amount of effort you need. No more, no less.”
His grunt is dubious this time.
I laugh and give his arm a friendly squeeze. “Got it. I’ll reign in the esoteric stuff for now. I just can’t help myself sometimes. I’m such a yoga nerd.”
“It’s okay,” he says, a gentleness in his gruff voice I haven’t heard before. “I like nerds. Of all kinds. Nerds are important.”
Softening toward him again, I bring my hands to meet at my chest in a gesture of gratitude. “Thank you.” Our gazes catch and hold, and for a second I have impure thoughts about this man with the soulful eyes.
Thoughts I banish as quickly as they arrive.
He is a student.
A student! And I am a professional.
Composing myself, I motion for him to follow me into the lobby. “Come on. Let’s get you set up with a class pack before my five thirty folks start to arrive.”
From his bed in the corner, Mr. Sniffles lets out a plaintive whine and oozes off his cushion onto the floor. Tank glances his way, that ghost of a smile appearing once more.
“Dog yoga?” he asks as Mr. Sniffles stretches into full sploot with a whimper.
I sigh. “No, just garden variety begging, I’m afraid. Hattie used to give him a treat after every class, but I had to ask her to stop. Mr. Sniffles is already a big boy.”
“Big boned, you mean,” Tank counters, crouching to extend a hand toward my pitiful pup. “Isn’t that right, buddy?”
Mr. Sniffles scoots eagerly across the floor on his belly, snuffling in excitement. When his head collides with Tank’s hand, he lets out a happy grunt and rolls over to offer his belly.
“He sounds like you,” I tease. “With the grunts.”
Tank shoots me another dark look, this time with an edge of playfulness—and heat—that makes my stomach flutter. “I resemble that remark.”
I bite my lip. Shit.
Looks like Mr. Tall, Cranky, and Grunty has a sense of humor, after all. Which means resisting the awareness simmering between us just got at least five times harder.
A sense of humor on a sexy man is my kryptonite.
Before I can offer a flirty comeback—or retreat to the lobby to get my head on straight—the front door chimes. I glance toward the open studio door to see a familiar figure sauntering into the lobby.
An unwelcome familiar figure…
It’s Drake, wearing his usual “I’m a genius rock god forced to sell real estate for my rich father ” outfit of torn black jeans and a vintage band t-shirt, his dark hair artfully tousled in a way I know takes ten minutes and three different styling products.
“There’s my queen,” he exclaims, spreading his arm wide. “I was hoping I’d catch you between classes.”
My entire body tenses. “I told you I was busy, Drake. I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to—”
“I know, I know, but it’ll only take a few minutes. We always talk things through better in person. You know that.” His eyes dart to Tank, who’s still crouched on the floor petting Mr. Sniffles, before sliding back to me. His tone is notably cooler as he adds, “I didn’t realize you had company.”
Tank says nothing. He simply stands up, rising to his full height in one smooth, measured motion. But I swear, I can suddenly feel his energy prickling across my skin, vibrating through my bones, his presence expanding to fill the entire room.
This man has an aura unlike anything I’ve experienced in real life, and a part of me instantly decides he could benefit from a Reiki treatment to help him hold onto some of that power instead of letting it pour out of him like an energy tsunami.
The other part of me just wants to stand in the path of his energy and let it wash over me until I’m tingling all over…
Reminding myself how much trouble “tingling all over” caused me the last time I started crushing on a bad boy, I prop my hands on my hips and say firmly, “My five thirty students will be arriving any minute, and I have to get a new student set up with a class pass. Whatever you need, Drake, it’s going to have to wait.”
Drake’s features shift into that wounded puppy expression he’s perfected, the one that used to be so good at making me feel like the bad guy. “Relax. This won’t take long. Just give me five minutes.”
I sigh, but before I can respond, Tank murmurs, “She said she’s busy. You should leave.”
His voice is low, casual, but carries an unmistakable warning.
Drake blinks, clearly taken aback, but his temper doesn’t flare the way it usually would.