I tortured myself for a whole hour, struggling through Dancer and Tree poses and nearly taking out the girl beside me as we moved into Shoulder Stand. I should clarify,shewas in Shoulder Stand. I was flailing around on my back trying to kick my legs over my head and failing miserably. Finally the instructor came over and whispered, “Let’s just lie against the wall with our legs up, shall we?” like we were going to do it together, and that worked a whole lot better.
Finally the class ended, and I lay back in Corpse pose and tried to catch my breath. I was just as sweaty at the end of this class as I had been the day before, only today I had a lot less to show for it. No burgeoning conversation with Angela. No shared towel which might lead to shared confidences over drinks. Disappointed, I rolled up my mat and tucked her towel back into my bag. I could try again the next day, but the thought of yet another morning of bending myself into a pretzel gave me a headache. There had to be somewhere else I could run into her. She worked as a waitress, right? It should be easy enough to find her restaurant and stop by oh-so-casually.
“Will we see you tomorrow?” the instructor asked as I headed for the door. She looked worried, as if she might have to add a shot of bourbon to her morning tea if I said yes.
“Probably not,” I began. “I have a pretty full schedule the rest of this week…” but then I saw Angela standing outside on the sidewalk. She was dressed for yoga, which confused me until I looked at the schedule and saw a “Hot Hour of Power” that began directly after the beginner’s class I’d just finished.
Hour of Power? I could only imagine what kind of fresh hell that might be. I rushed outside to catch up with her, pulling her towel from my bag as the perfect conversation-starter. Glad we crossed paths again,I’d say.I wanted to return this to you...
Then I realized she was talking to someone, her chin lifted in a laugh, the sun illuminating her face.
Rafe.
My heart leaped into my throat. Why was he here? Why were they talking? Surely he wouldn’t have blown my cover. Didn’t bodyguards just hover in the background, silently watching for danger? But Rafe was standing here in broad daylight, his arms crossed, nodding at whatever Angela was saying with something almost like a smile on his face.
It wasn’t a smile, of course, because I was pretty sure the man didn’t know what one was, but he looked tolerant, almost bemused, at whatever she was going on about.
“Angela! Hi!” I threw myself in between them, grinning and waving the towel. “I thought you might be here. I brought this. Freshly washed and everything.”
She blinked as if confused. “Hi. Ah, thanks.” She peered at me. “Oh! It’s Tori, right? From class yesterday?”
“Yes.” I jabbed one thumb over my shoulder. “Just finished a class.”
She readjusted her bag on her shoulder. “And I’m just going in. Thanks again,” she said to Rafe. “I left my credit card in the coffee shop,” she said to me. “Right on the counter like a total idiot.” She dropped a hand onto his arm. “You saved me.”
“All in a day’s work. Have a good one.” His gaze flicked over to me, and though his expression never changed, something deep down inside those eyes did. Something familiar. Something...protective.
“It was nice to see you again,” Angela said to me as Rafe turned away. “Are you going to start coming to class on a regular basis?”
“I’m not sure.” I rubbed the small of my back. “Honestly, it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.” Rafe wandered away, back across the street, where he took up his post at Freshly Ground. The sun climbed in the sky, and he peeled off his leather jacket to reveal a tight black t-shirt. Good Lord, I could almost see the ridges on his chest and abs from where I stood.
Stop staring, Vic. He’s your bodyguard.
“You’ll get used to it,” Angela said, and for a minute I thought she was talking about Rafe.
I don’t think so, I almost blurted out. Then I realized my mistake. Frantically, I searched my mind, Grace’s strategies, any possible way to keep Angela on the hook. I had to continue this conversation, but there was no way I could do one more minute of yoga.
Then she gave me the perfect in.
“Hey, do you live around here?”
I nodded.
She chewed her thumbnail. “I just moved a couple blocks away. I’m working part time at an art gallery. My roommate and I were wondering...are there any good places nearby for happy hour?”
Bingo!I smiled. “Sure. I know the perfect place. In fact, I’m tending bar there Friday night.”
6
Unfortunately for me,Friday night was still three long nights away, which meant I had a lot of hours to fill before I could get back to chatting up Angela. I thought about taking another class at Breathe Free, but my body rebelled. The morning after that second class I could barely roll over in bed without every last muscle screaming in agony. Then I thought about asking Charlie if he had any open shifts at Tunes & ‘Tudes, but he’d already hired a new bartender. Aunt Penny was working overtime at the hospital (I suspected it had something to do with a sexy new attending physician she kept talking about), and even Bruno gave me an arch look of disapproval when I tried to snuggle him more than usual.
Finally I took a hot shower, popped three aspirin, and decided to walk over to the art gallery Angela had mentioned. I didn’t know the first thing about art, and I couldn’t draw more than a stick figure on a cocktail napkin, but maybe I’d learn something. And maybe she’d be working and wouldn’t think I was stalking her and we could get down to the business of becoming friends.
I locked the front door behind me, thought about taking my Vespa, and decided my aching bod could use the walk instead. It was mid-April, getting warmer every day, and the city had sloughed off its winter chill to prepare for cherry blossoms and the promise of spring. I’d Googled the address of the gallery, and it wasn’t more than a half-mile away. The air felt good in my lungs, fresh and clear, and I stepped onto the sidewalk with a smile.
“Where are you going?”
I froze. I hadn’t even seen the black Cadillac parked across the street, but there sat Rafe in the driver’s seat, one arm dangling out the open window.
