Page 30 of Off Limits
“Hi Patrick. I’m Jane.” She stood and walked to the doorway and shook his hand. “So nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “What brings you to the retreat?”
She sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to pick up a few things to take back to my studio—breathwork, new meditation techniques. Domenico’s meditations are allegedly incredible.”
Patrick crossed on foot over the other. “Is this your first retreat with him?”
“I’ve done a few other retreats but this is the first one I’ve done with Domenico.”
“You’re in for something special.” He straightened, giving her an easy smile. She found herself relaxing just a little. “Are you heading to the welcome dinner?”
“I was planning to.”
“Do you want to walk over together? I’m never good with first introductions so I’d love to have a buddy.” He chuckled.
“Let me change my clothes and I’ll walk over with you, buddy.”
He held up his fist and she bumped hers to his. “Great. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs, Jane.”
She lifted her suitcase to the bed and rummaged through her neatly folded clothes until fingers landed on a pair of emerald green harem pants and a soft white tank top. Stepping behind the changing screen, she peeled off her travel clothes and slipped into the breezy, comfortable outfit.
This retreat was about more than learning new techniques. It was about carving out space for herself. Space to breathe. To think. To let go. No matter how much she didn’t want to. The past several weeks had unraveled her in ways she had not expected. Coming here gave her a chance to press pause, to quiet the ache lingering beneath her ribs.
But that didn’t mean she had to keep to herself completely. She was open to whatever the retreat had to offer, including making a new friend or two.
She stepped out, smoothing her top as she glanced toward the Pacific Ocean. The sound of the waves calmed her soul.
Time to meet the others.
Chapter Fifteen
Brady
Brady grabbed a pint glass and tilted it under the tap, letting the amber ale flow in a smooth, practiced pour. “One of our best sellers,” he said, sliding it to the blonde at the bar.
“Thanks.” She brushed her fingers against his as she took the glass, her lashes batting.
