Page 75 of A Wild Card Kiss
“Hey, Lacey. Why aren’tyoudoing all the yoga poses?” Thequestion comes from Erick, the backup quarterback, and it sounds like he wants to see Lacey on all fours.
“Same reason I don’t get into the huddle on Sundays. I’m—wait for it—not on the roster.” She’s all deadpan and fabulous with her comeback. I kind of love her.
“C’mon. If we have to do this, you should too,” Erick shouts.
With his bare foot tucked against his calf, Harlan calls out to Erick. “Yes, that’s logical, Erick. Completely logical,” he says.
“Who said anything about logic?” Erick quips.
I cut in before the place turns into more of a zoo. “The tree pose is one of the best things you can do for your balance, and I suspect balance matters just a little bit out there on the field. Harlan, you’re doing a great job with the tree pose,” I say, gesturing to the receiver who’s mastering the poses in no time.
“Ooh, Harlan, teacher has a crush on you,” Erick catcalls.
My cheeks redden. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to single out the guy I’m into.
Smooth move, Katie.
“Let’s keep things professional,” Lacey cuts in.
The reminder is useful for me too. I step away from Harlan and move over to Cooper, who’s also looking pretty damn good as he holds the pose. “Your quarterback does an excellent flamingo impression,” I say, using him as my example instead.
Because I’m not here to focus on only one guy.
I’m here because it’s my job.
A booming voice carries from the doorway. “Looking good, men.”
I whip my gaze in that direction, where the head coach surveys the guys. It’s Coach Greenhaven, one of the best in the NFL, a man both feared and revered. “Keep up the good work,” he says to his team.
The men all stretch a little deeper, hold a little longer for him.
When the class ends a minute later, the guys filter out, but Lacey and the head coach stay behind.
Then, his intense eyes land on me. “Lacey says you’re making an impact.”
I stand taller, enjoying his praise. It’s not often the head coach of a Super Bowl–winning team doles out praise for me. More like, well,never. “It’s early days, but I hope so,” I say.
“Good. Just don’t go work for the Hawks now,” he says drily.
I smile. “I promise to stay away from your local rivals.”
“That’s all I can ask for,” he says, then strolls out.
Lacey’s eyes shine. “He’s not easily impressed.”
That’s a damn good thing for Sassy Yoga, and that’s why I’m here.
***
The next day, I prep the private room at my studio, eager for Harlan’s arrival.
Maybe that makes me a junkie, but I’m getting hooked on these regular doses of him.
This whole teacher-student thing was definitely not on my vision board, but still, I look forward to every session with him.
I set down the mats, a purple one for me, a green one for him.Then, a strap for each of us, and my mind only briefly flickers to other uses for straps. Next, I place yoga blocks on each mat.
Step back.
