Page 7 of Tangled Vows

Clearly he preferred leggy blondes with lip filler and ten percent body fat. Every woman he’d been seen with the last few years looked just like my old high school classmate, with the exception of a few brunettes sprinkled in here and there. They all had one thing in common, though: tight, svelte little bodies. That wasn’t me. I could’vemaybefit one thigh into the itsy bitsy dress Mariah had been wearing. Not that I had a problem withmy body. It was strong and healthy, and I had finally learned to embrace my curves—and the extra pounds I carried from developing an autoimmune disorder while my mom was going through cancer treatment a few years ago.

The weight gain had bothered me at first, especially since nothing I did seemed to make a difference. I got so tired of hearing “move more and eat less” that I wanted to scream. As if I hadn’t already tried that. Even Calvin, my boyfriend at the time, couldn't understand that my body didn’t work like it used to. He had me in the gym five days a week when I was already eating like a rabbit. The stress and exhaustion had only made my Hashimoto's worse.

Calvin’s body shaming and constant harping about my weight had obliterated my self-esteem. It took me kicking him to the curb to start rebuilding my confidence. I still occasionally battled with insecurity, but my training as a dietician helped me heal my relationship with food and learn to love my body just as it was. Sure, my stomach wasn’t flat anymore, but my ass was round, and I had a full set of double Ds. Most men didn’t seem to mind the thirty extra pounds. In fact, they seemed to relish my abundant curves. It just never held their interest for long. All I seemed to attract were fuckboys who liked tits and ass, but not a woman with intellect or opinions, something I had in spades.

Shaking away those thoughts, I laid out the quizzes I’d created for the players. This workshop would be a crash course in nutrition, meal planning, and post-workout recovery, so I needed to know what I was working with to better meet their needs. With the players’ workouts and practice schedule, it would take me weeks to meet with them all individually, so this would help us get them started on the right path. Many of these guys had never worked with a registered dietician before, so we would start with the basics, something I was sure Easton wouldn’t be thrilled about. Call me petty, but the thought ofmaking him sit through this session with the rookies gave me a sick sense of satisfaction, even though I dreaded seeing him after the other night at the bar.

Raucous laughter drifted in from the hallway informing me of the players’ arrival, and a moment later, the rookies filed into the small conference room. Quinn and Slater were chugging from tall cans of energy drinks while Maxwell sipped from a large iced coffee topped with lots of whipped cream, a bag of mini chocolate chip muffins in the other hand. Clearly, I had my work cut out for me. These guys would need a lot more than large doses of caffeine and sugar to get them through their practice later.

The rookies sat at the table, chatting as they waited. When the clock struck eight, I instructed them to begin their quizzes. They grumbled and groaned, but complied. Minutes ticked by as I waited for Easton to show. The rookies finished their quizzes, and I collected them. It was time to start the workshop, but Easton still wasn’t there. I didn’t want to continue without him, but I only had a short amount of time to cram in a lot of information.

It was twenty minutes past the hour when I finally gave up and began the workshop. If he didn’t show up, that was on him. I wouldn’t cover for him with Bradford either. The coach had made it clear he wanted all of his players to attend.

At eight thirty, the door swung open, and Easton sauntered in. He hovered by the door, taking in the room, irritation pinching his brow. He obviously thought he was too good to be here with the rookies.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” I snarked. This entitled prick thought he could just show up to my class whenever he wanted.

Easton’s gaze slid to me, and he pinned me with an annoyed glare. The look was intimidating, but I wouldn’t cower to him. I stared right back, unflinching as his jaw worked back and forth.

“I had a flat tire.”Oh. Well, that changed things. “And I had to wait for the rain to let up before I could change it to the spare,” he explained, running his hand through his soaking wet hair. I was so infuriated by his tardiness, I hadn’t noticed the ends dripping onto his shoulders and soaking into his T-shirt until now. The damp cotton clung to his broad shoulders and chest like a second skin. His dour mood suddenly made more sense. There’d been a downpour on my drive in this morning, so I knew he was telling the truth. Still, he could’ve contacted me to tell me what was going on.

“You couldn’t have called or texted to let me know?” I asked, doing my best to keep my eyes focused on his and not let them drop below his neck where all those beautiful muscles were outlined by his wet T-shirt.

“I don’t have your number,” he replied, his lips tipped up in a smirk.

“Sure you do,” I informed him, and he quirked one eyebrow questioningly. “If you had bothered to open the binder I gave you, you would’ve seen it printed on the very first page.” His smirk faltered, but he recovered it in a flash.Caught ya, asshole. I suspected he wouldn’t bother to look at that binder. He thought he already knew everything.

A satisfied grin curved my lips as I waited to hear his excuses. It dropped as he took a few steps toward me, closing the distance between us. I tilted my head back to look up at him, refusing to avert my gaze.

“Hmm, that page must’ve been missing from mine,” he replied thoughtfully as if he’d actually cracked that binder open. He was full of shit.

“Right,” I replied as though considering that a legit possibility. “You might want to double check that when you get home.”

“You might want to give it to me just in case.” His eyes flicked down to my mouth and back up. Was he seriouslyflirtingwith me? After everything he’d done—rejecting me that first night then hooking up with my old classmate who was the complete opposite of me in every way—he had the audacity to flirt with me. My ire swelled to a fever pitch, and I had to suck in a deep breath to keep from losing my temper. I was a professional, and I would act like it. I’d be damned if I let him see how he affected me.

“You should probably take your seat so we can continue with our session. You’ve wasted enough of our time, Mr. Walker.”

His cocky grin melted away, and his bravado faltered.That’s right, asshole. I’m not falling for your charms. Never again.He stepped around me and went to the empty chair next to Slater. Before he could sink into his seat, he turned to the rookies.

“Anybody have a dry shirt I can borrow?”

“I do,” Quinn replied, a little too excitedly. The hero worship was written all over his face. I rolled my eyes and smothered the scoff that threatened to escape.

Quinn reached into his gym bag and pulled out a Wraiths T-shirt. To my utter shock and horror—and maybe a little arousal—Easton yanked his damp shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted torso. I swallowed hard and forced myself to turn around, pretending to sort through my notes. I would not give him the satisfaction of drooling over his expertly toned physique.

I waited several long seconds to face him again, and when I did, my gaze fell on his smirk. He looked at me like he knew exactly how the sight of his bare chest affected me. So I schooled my features, and though I was burning up on the inside, I was cool and collected on the outside. I just hoped the heat he stirred inside me didn’t melt my icy exterior.

6

EASTON

Shayla was the epitome of buttoned-up professionalism, and it was driving me crazy. I wanted to see the free spirited, passionate woman I'd met in that shadowy hallway. I longed to see her cut loose and let her guard down. But that seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind as she grilled me during the workshop. Quinn, Slater, and Maxwell watched on in nervous fascination, their gazes bouncing between us with each exchange.

I met her every challenge with confidence and expertise which only seemed to piss her off more. But I couldn’t help myself. Her anger gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction, and I reveled in it. It was the only time she showed even a sliver of emotion in my presence. Hell, I’d barely gotten a rise out of her when I took my shirt off, and she immediately turned her back on me. So I kept trying, goading her into verbally sparring with me the whole time. I wanted to see that fire, to watch that flame smothered deep inside her roar to life.

Still, I had to admit, she knew what she was doing. I was a hard man to impress, but Shayla was on top of her game. And she was thorough, going as far as to draw chains of amino acidsand protein molecules on the dry erase board to explain protein synthesis. I’d never been more riveted by a science lesson in my life.

Though, it was rather difficult to concentrate on the curriculum when Shayla’s pants hugged her ass like a second skin, and her blouse dipped just low enough to show off a hint of cleavage. My eyes skimmed down her body appreciatively when her back was turned. Every inch of her was perfection, from her striking gray eyes to her full bow-shaped lips, and curves that made a man want to do sinful things to her body.

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