Page 39 of From Wink to Kink

As we walk, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers a warning.Be careful, Ruby. You're treading in dangerous waters here.

I push the thought away. It's just yoga and breakfast. What could go wrong?

I have a feeling the universe will answer that question when I least expect it.

18

RUBY

After our yoga adventure,I make another beeline for the reception desk, my legs a little wobbly from all the warrior poses. This time, the desk is staffed by a cheerful young woman with a bright smile. Must be part of the job requirements here at Pura Vida.

"Good morning!" she chirps, her voice as sunny as the Costa Rican weather. "How can I help you today?"

I plaster on my best polite smile, the one I reserve for difficult library patrons who insist their overdue fines are a government conspiracy. "Hi, I need to book a flight home as soon as possible. There's been a mix-up with my reservation."

Her smile doesn't falter, but her eyes flick to something behind me. "I see. Would you like to check flights on our guest computer?”

She leads me to an ancient desktop that looks like it was cutting-edge technology... in 1998. As I wait for the glacially slow internet to load, I hear a familiar voice.

"Still trying to ditch me, Brooks?"

I turn to see Chuck leaning against the reception desk, a knowing smirk on his face. His hair is damp from a post-yoga shower, and he's wearing a fitted T-shirt that does nothing to hide his athletic build. Not that I'm noticing. Of course.

I wish he would just stop looking at me. Maybe even go away. I can’t think straight with him so close.

I roll my eyes, hoping my face isn't as flushed as it feels. "Don't flatter yourself, Newcomb. I'm just trying to get home."

"Uh-huh," he says, clearly unconvinced. "And it has nothing to do with my stellar yoga performance this morning?"

I snort, remembering his less-than-graceful attempts at downward dog. "Oh yes, your ability to nearly take out half the class with your flailing was truly awe-inspiring."

He clutches his chest in mock pain. "You wound me, Brooks. And here I thought we were bonding over our shared love of... what did the instructor call it? 'Finding our inner warrior'?"

"I think you misheard," I retort. "In your case, it was more like 'floundering innerworrier'."

Our banter is interrupted by the ancient computer finally spluttering to life. After what feels like an eternity, I manage to pull up a flight booking site. My heart sinks as I scroll through the options. The earliest flight isn't until tomorrow afternoon, and the only shuttle to the airport left at the crack of dawn this morning anyway.

I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "Why…?" I whine.

Chuck peers over my shoulder at the screen, close enough that I can smell him. His is a pleasant, woodsy scent that's entirely too distracting. "Looks like you're stuck with me for another day, at least," he says, and I swear I can hear a smile in his voice.

I shoot him a glare. I should probably be nicer. "Fine. Now what?"

As if in answer, this morning’s desk clerk appears with a colorful brochure. "We have a wonderful 'Trust Falls' class starting in an hour. It's all about building connections and opening yourself up to new experiences!"

I eye the brochure skeptically. Trust Falls? With a bunch of strangers? In a place that thinks "sensual meditation" is a normal activity? Pass.

But to my surprise, Chuck pipes up. "Sounds great. Sign us up."

I whirl on him so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. "Us?"

He shrugs, that infuriating grin taunting me, sucking me in. "Come on, Brooks. If you're stuck here, you might as well make the most of it."

I open my mouth to argue, but something in his expression gives me pause. There's a hint of hopefulness there, buried under his usual bravado. Against my better judgment, I find myself nodding. "Fine. Trust Falls it is. But if you drop me, Newcomb, I swear I'll..."

"Relax," he says, placing a hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch seeps through my shirt, and I have to resist the urge to lean into it. "I've caught plenty of falling bodies on the ice. How different can this be?"

As we head to breakfast, I admit to myself I know next to nothing about this guy beyond his on-ice reputation and what I've gleaned from team barbecues. If I'm going to be stuck here with him, I might as well be civil. Plus, he has been surprisingly... not terrible through this whole fiasco.

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