Page 1 of Rugged Hero

CHAPTER 1

BRIDGET

Let’s begin by taking a few deep breaths,” I say, standing at the front of the studio. “Inhale through your nose, fill your lungs completely, then exhale slowly through your mouth.”

I watch the group of students as they follow my instructions. My students today are the usual college kids in colorful leggings and moms in well-worn tank tops.

Except for a burly man in the back row. He’s older than my typical students, with a dark beard and broad shoulders hunched beneath a gray sweatshirt. He’s overdressed for yoga. He shifts his weight uncomfortably, but I watch as he attempts to breathe along with the class.

Interesting. He looks so out of place that I wonder if he’s lost. Though, something about the determination in his eyes tells me he’s not here by mistake.

I guide the class into mountain pose, feet rooted, spine long. “Reach your arms overhead, palms facing in. Feel your body opening up as you stretch.”

As the students raise their arms, my attention is drawn back to the man in the gray sweats. The fabric stretches taut over his chest. Despite the looseness of his sweats, when he stretches like this, there’s no hiding the hard muscles of his body. I blink rapidly, surprised at the sudden surge of heat inside me. I try to clear the sudden curiosity about his muscles and how it would feel to touch them.

Stop it, Bridget. You shouldn’t fantasize about students…even if he has a hot-as-hell, sexy bad boy vibe.

“Now fold forward, bending at your hips. Let your head hang heavy and reach for your toes.” I demonstrate, then flick my eyes up to observe the class. “Breathe into any tightness you feel.”

The man in the back bends stiffly, fingertips barely brushing his shins. Definitely a beginner. But despite his obvious discomfort, he doesn’t give up. I smile at the effort he’s making to do something that pushes his boundaries. Nothing happens if you don’t try new things.

“Slowly roll up to standing,” I instruct. “Shake out any tension.”

The man awkwardly shimmies his shoulders, and a smile tugs at my lips. I hope this isn’t the only time I see him in one of my classes.

I lead the class into a lunge sequence, cueing them to square their hips and lift their chests. As I turn my gaze toward the back of the room, I falter.

The man transitions between poses with a fluid power contrasting his initial hesitation. He moves with a physical energy that has nothing to do with yoga, and I nearly have to fan myself against the sudden heat that rushes across my skin and straight to my core.

Cool down, Bridget. Part of me is glad that my libido didn’t totally die when things ended with Christopher, but the other part of me wishes it wasn’t happening during my class.

“Ease into a seated twist,” I say, dropping to the mat and demonstrating. “Lengthen your spine as you gently turn to the right.”

While the other students follow smoothly, the man in the back’s torso barely budges. His face clouds with frustration, and he yanks at his shoulders, trying to force them to turn.

I stand and walk over to his mat and gently place my hands on his upper arms. “Let me help you with your alignment.”

He tenses under my touch, frustrated eyes whipping up to meet mine. For a suspended moment, we simply stare at each other. Up close, his dark eyes have a stormy intensity that makes me catch my breath.

I swallow and try to push down the fiery lust building inside me. “Inhale and grow tall through your spine.” My voice is husky, fluttering like my pulse. “Then exhale and twist, initiating the movement from your belly, not your shoulders.”

He obeys, his breath ghosting across my cheek as his torso moves.

“Good,” I murmur. “You’re doing great.”

He nods, and his mouth curls up in the slightest of smiles. “Doesn’t feel great,” he mutters.

I laugh softly. “Keep practicing, and you’ll get there.” I squeeze his arm lightly, wishing I could touch him for longer.

Pivoting away, I resume guiding the class, determined to keep my attention from wandering down the forbidden trail of the allure of this new student.

As the class winds down, I guide everyone into Savasana, the final resting pose. “Allow your body to sink heavily into your mat,” I intone. “With each exhale, release any remaining tension.”

My gaze drifts to the man in the back row. For the first time during the class, he seems more at ease, though maybe it’s relief that the class is coming to an end. Either way, pride surges in my chest that he kept at it despite his obvious discomfort.

After a few peaceful minutes, I gently rouse the class. “Slowly awaken your body and roll to one side. Use your hands to press yourself up to a seated position. Bring your palms together at heart center.”

Amid the rustling of bodies rising and mats being rolled, I catch the man’s eyes. He nods once as if in thanks, and a fresh surge of desire threatens to overwhelm me.

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