Page 13 of Inflame

Class wraps up at the forty-five minute mark, and the members disperse. Nic lingers, along with Blake.

“I can give you a hand back to your car,” Blake says, taking my mat and joining it with his. “Great class, Claire Bear. I particularly liked theday drinkingbalance activity.”

I giggle. “I get such a rush teaching these types of classes. And then being in nature is just icing.”

Blake turns to eye up Nic and then looks at me with a quirk to his eyebrow.

“Blake, this is Nic Hoffman, Angie’s future brother-in-law. Nic, this is my friend Blake.” The men shake hands, and surprisingly, the awkwardness that was present at the beginning of class has dissipated. Maybe Nic really did need this class after all. My phone vibrates, and I glance down to see that it is Ethan. He hates when I’m late, especially if he is home waiting for me to get back.

“Gotta go?” Blake asks.

“Yeah.”

I follow Blake to the sidewalk and turn back to wave goodbye to Nic who seems to be interested in our departure.

“He seems nice, Claire Bear.”

“I’m sure he can be,” I mutter.

“What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing.”

Blake stops in his tracks and glances back at Nic, while I stay fixated on my car in the distance. “Claire Bear, that tall drink of fine man meat back there ain’tnothing.”

“You’re right. He is a giant pain in my ass.”

4

NIC

“How certain are you?” Asher asks.

“As sure as shit,” I mutter into the phone. “I’m not going back into that line of work.” Despite living states away, Asher and I are best friends and have been able to stay in touch over the past few years. He is someone I can trust, vent to, and count on for healthy advice. He doesn’t know how to sugarcoat things, and I appreciate his honesty when I need a sounding board. It helps to have someone in my life that doesn’t just give me the default reply of what I want to hear. I can simply hire people to kiss my ass. It’s not a quality I need in a friend.

“So what are you going to do with your life now that you are a free man again? Please tell me you're not going to turn into one of those loafers who installs one of those European bidets to spray water on your asshole, then hire a chef and maid to tend to your every need. You’ll gain like fifty pounds and have to resort to buying women from your escort database just to get a date.”

“Shit, you have a vivid imagination. Gets worse with age too.”

Asher cracks up laughing. “Just admit it—you’re going to get bored and lazy.”

“I’ve been a free man for some time now,” I answer smoothly. He is referring to my FBI days and not my relationship status. “You know how I hate to settle or put all my money on one number on the roulette table. I keep my options open. Might even do another start-up again.”

“Must be nice living off the dividends of your investments. It’s not even like you have to work,” he points out. I can almost see him tapping his fingers along his jawline. It is one of the mannerisms I remember best about him that he uses when he is thinking about all the possibilities.

“Pretty sure my dick would get raw if I didn’t have something else to do with my time.”

Asher busts out laughing into the phone. This is what we do when we are on a call; we laugh. “There are creams for things like that,” he jokes.

“I’m sure you have some to share,” I tease. “Speaking of which, how is the missus?”

"I’m not sharing her.”

“That much is obvious.”

Asher got married to his college sweetheart a couple of years ago. I was honored to be the best man and watch them tie the knot on a beach in Malibu.

“We’re expecting our first child in September.”

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