Page 10 of How to Kiss a Mountain Man

I guide Griffin through the pre-class routine, aware of the whispers following us. His boots, caked with mountain mud, stand out against the neat rows of clean shoes by the door. When we enter the main yoga room, he moves carefully, like he’s trying to take up less space despite being the kind of man who naturally fills a room.

“There’s extra mats here,” I say, pointing to a cubby.

His eyes scan the room, lingering on the mirrors. “Can we grab spots in the back?”

“Of course. We can set up wherever you want to.”

We unroll our mats in the back corner. Griffin practically spills off the sides of his. I catch him looking over at the exit just as our yoga instructor, Colleen, glides in from the other side of the studio.

“Welcome, everyone.” Her usual calm wavers for a moment when she spots Griffin. “Today’s practice will be gentle and restorative. For our new students, just follow along and listen to your body. There’s no wrong way to move.”

I glance again at Griffin. Despite looking completely out of place, he meets my eyes with a small smile that shows the slight dimple in his right cheek. My pulse jumps harder than it should, and I look away. I need to focus on why we’re here.

As we begin, I split my focus between my practice and periodically glancing over at Griffin to make sure he’s doing okay. His muscled frame fights against the poses, but he approaches each one with steady concentration. During a particularly awkward twist, he gives me such a long-suffering look that I have to bite back a laugh. At other times, the way his t-shirt clings to his chest is incredibly distracting—so distracting that I almost lose my balance.

In the final pose, Colleen invites us to lay flat on our backs, eyes closed. Before I close my eyes, I peek over at Griffin one last time. The tension has fully left his face, softening his strong features. My heart thrums at how different he looks like this, how peaceful.

After class, as we gather our things, all the other women are caught up in post-yoga conversations. No one seems to care about Griffin’s presence anymore.

“So?” I ask him as we roll up our mats. “What’d you think?”

“I never thought I’d say this, but...” He meets my eyes, a gentle smile on his face. “It was nice. Really nice.”

My heart speeds up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t try to talk me into buying a punchcard, though.”

I laugh as we step into the reception area to put on our shoes. “Fair enough. Hey, I usually grab a bite after class. Want to join me?”

He only takes a beat to think it over. “Sure, if it helps with our little project.”

Right. The project. The reminder settles soberly in my stomach. We’re doing this to change the town’s mind about him—nothingmore. There’s a reason he didn’t try to kiss me again after we were interrupted the other night.

We step out into the sunshine and start to walk up the street. The morning is perfectly warm with just a hint of breeze, and we walk side by side at a comfortable pace. For a few moments, it feels easy and normal, like we're just two friends enjoying each other's company.

Then everything happens at once. A flash of movement catches my eye. A little boy chases a toy car toward the street, straight into traffic. Griffin lunges forward, catching the child's arm and pulling him back from the curb.

“Let go of my son!” A woman’s scream cuts through the air. The little boy starts crying as his mother runs toward us. Other people stop to stare.

Griffin releases the boy instantly, hands up. “He was running into traffic.”

The mother spots the toy car in the street. Her face shifts from anger to horror at her own reaction. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. Thank you. You saved him. I’m so sorry I assumed?—”

But it’s too late. The crowd whispers and points. Griffin’s shoulders pull in, his jaw tight.

Instinctively, I slip my hand into Griffin’s. His skin is warm and a little rough. He tenses at the physical contact, then meets my eyes.

“Jesus.” His voice is rough. “I can’t catch a break in this town.”

“Everything’s fine,” I tell him, squeezing his hand.

“Everyone’s staring.”

I scan the sidewalk. “Not anymore. See? They’re already moving on.”

The defeat in his eyes hits me hard. “I don’t know if they’re ever going to change their minds about me.”

“They will, Griffin. It’s just going to take time.”

---