Until someone’s breath tickles my neck.
“Well, well. Didn’t take you for a Namaste kind of gal, Sunshine.”
I whip around to see that impossibly handsome face of his. I should’ve known Duke would have to be here to make this activity impossible for me.
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
He steps in front of me. “You know, I’m not entirely sure since I see you as … the opposite.”
“That’s only because you’re the eclipse that blocks out all light and joy in my world, Cowboy Ken.”
“Cowboy Ken?”
“Yes, you’re like a Ken doll that comes with a pair of rhinestone chaps for dress up.”
He rubs his stubbled chin. “I guess I’ve been called worse. I’ll take it.”
“And I’m sure your other nicknames are not appropriate for polite conversation.”
“Is that what this is?” he asks. “I can’t wait to see when things aren’t so polite with you.”
His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate, and I swear I see the faintest flicker of something deeper, something far more dangerous, beneath all that pompousness.
“Why don’t you Nama-stay-away from me and take the furthest mat over there, Mr. Faraday.” I rock my head from side to side and roll my shoulders back as he releases a deep, throaty laugh.
“Oh, I’ll be taking my place shortly, but it will be at the front of the class,” he says.
My eyes widen and my once-calm heartbeat takes off as if a starter pistol has been fired. “You’re … you’re teaching this class?”
“That’s right, Sunshine. Hope you can handle it. Before we get started, do you mind if I adjust you along the way?”
I release a quick breath. “You are welcome to adjust me, but you won’t have to.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ll only adjust you if I notice you’re not quite in alignment. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“You can worry about the rest of the class, thank you, I’ll be fine.”
Duke walks to the front as I frantically try to recall the poses a yoga instructor might guide us through. Downward something, mountain pose … tree? Ugh, of course they’re all nature related. Why can’t we stand tall like skyscrapers?
I try to look away, but my gaze betrays me as it makes its way to him. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a sleeveless white T-shirt. He rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms over his head—a completely unnecessary display of muscle and flexibility. His arms were the sort that could pin a man in a fight or hold a woman steady in the kind of way that would make her breath hitch.
“Welcome to sunrise yoga. If everyone could take their places and get ready. Thankfully, Mother Nature has created one hell of a sunrise with her paintbrush this morning,” Duke says.
The class laughs and then exhales in unison.
“Let’s get started with some breath work. Breathe deep into your belly, expanding with each inhale. Let your exhale be slow and controlled,” he continues. “Breathe in, breathe out. Let’s start the day, centered and focused.”
This is the worst possible scenario for sunrise yoga. Not only is Duke Faraday the most distracting yoga teacher I’ve ever encountered, it’s impossible to focus while listening to him. His voice is a deep, lingering timbre, the kind that could either soothe or ruin a woman, depending on his mood.
“Now, I want you to set an intention for this morning’s practice,” Duke says. “Think of one word that can make your journey today even more mindful. Something you want to manifest and make your own for the day.”
After giving the class time to pick their word, he continues to guide the class. “Let’s move into mountain pose. Feet firm on the ground, shoulders back, spine long. Think of yourself as steady, unshakable.”
I close my eyes, working through the rest of the sequence.
“Next, Marjaryasana-Bitilasana or Cat-Cow,” he continues. “Inhale, lift your chest, tailbone up. Exhale, round your spine, tuck your chin.”
After we’ve warmed up, he begins to move us through the sun salutations, and when I open my eyes, to my horror, I realize he’s moving through the class to adjust others. I almost tip over when I see his hands roll another woman’s hips into the correct position.
