“I’m the one that should be thanking you,” he said, deflecting. “I tried that breathing shit you talked about. It worked.”
She bit her lower lip, trying and failing to hold back a smile. “I’m so glad ‘that breathing shit’ is working out. But I’m serious, what you did last night, with the flowers, I haven’t had a guy be good like that to me before. It meant a lot.”
“I can’t decide if that’s a damn shame or working in my favor,” he rumbled. This was flirting. Nothing big. Not dangerous. But not strictly professional.
The problem was when he stood in front of her, face-to-face, he didn’t feel professional. Or like the Hellions fuckup goalie. Or the kid from Southie with another sad story. He felt like Patrick, the man he’d always wanted to be.
“I wanted to return the favor,” she said.
“You sending me flowers to the locker room? Because I’ll tell you right now, that happens and the guys will never let me live it down.”
“No,” she laughed. “This is just a nice gesture. A... token of my affection.”
She held out a hand. “You in?”
“Yeah.” He closed his fingers around hers. “All in.”
Chapter Eleven
“For real? You’re not telling me where we’re going?” Patch said, amusement threading his tone. Outside the window, the University of Colorado campus flew by the window. “I never come up to Boulder.”
“Good things come to those who wait,” Margot replied enigmatically as she turned on the off ramp. They rode in comfortable silence for another two minutes, until she parked her car outside of a funky brick warehouse between a craft brewery and an acupuncture clinic.
“See that over there?” She pointed at the building across the street with a For Sale sign, the one that housed Stefan’s MMA gym and two empty shops. It had foot traffic and amazing natural light.
“Yeah.”
“It just came on the market. It’s my dream to own that space and start a business.” She explained the concept of Sanctuary as they walked into the Nirvana Yoga Studio.
“That all sounds great,” he said, even as he hesitated outside the front door.
“You okay?”
“You’re taking me to yoga class? No offense, but–”
“Do you trust me?”
He nodded.
“Good. Because I’m going to have to trustyouan awful lot for the next hour.”
Couples were already pairing off on mats around the studio. From the front, Dusk, her fellow instructor, waved.
“Hey, glad you made it,” she called. “I’ve been trying to get you into Acrobatic Yoga for forever.”
“Acro-what?” Patch murmured in Margot’s ear.
She shivered as his hot breath skimmed her skin. “Acro-Yoga. It’s like if acrobatics and yoga had a baby. And it’s going to be fun.”
He snorted. “This is a real thing?”
“It is indeed. And before you go rolling those baby blues, hear me out. Acro is for fun. No one can take themselves all that seriously while doing it. So I think it’s going to be good for you. But it’s not all ridiculousness. You’re going to be the base. I’m the flyer.”
“Base? Flyer?”
“All right everybody,” Dusk called in a strong but calm voice. “First move of the night is going to be a warm-up, get you connected to your partner, and your hearts activated. Plank on Plank.”
Patch stared around as couples—men and woman, women and women, and men and men—dropped to the mats. The bigger partners got down into plank pose, arms shoulder-width apart.
