Page 36 of Behind the Net

She nods at Hazel, and when she turns to Jamie, she arches an eyebrow. “No hockey talk in here.”

He makes another noise that might be a laugh. We order lunch, and while we eat, Jamie actually makes conversation with Hazel about yoga.

“I’d love to do a class for injured athletes,” Hazel’s saying. “Something that goes at a slower pace.”

“Hazel wants to open her own studio one day,” I explain for Jamie. “A space where people of all body types feel comfortable, instead of just skinny people.”

His eyebrows rise and he regards Hazel with something that looks like respect. “That’s a great idea. The world needs more people like you.”

She stares at him. “I thought you were supposed to be an asshole.”

Jamie looks at me, and something glints in his eyes. “Did you tell her that?”

“Um.” I blink. “No?” Very convincing, Pippa. I wince, but I’m smiling. “I mean, you did fire me.”

Our eyes lock, and my stomach does a slow, warm roll. There’s that fascinating twitch at the corner of his mouth. I have the urge to reach out and brush my finger over it. Hazel’s glancing between us with a funny look on her face. Our gazes meet, and her eyebrows bob up and down once.

She’s really trying not to like him, but between his thoughtful questions, his interest in her profession, and how little ego he has, she doesn’t stand a chance.

I don’t know if I do, either. Who is this version of him? He’s nothing like the surly asshole I thought he was.

Jamie finishes his sandwich and leans back in his chair. “Do you do private classes?”

Hazel looks concerned. “Yes?”

He nods once. “My trainer will contact you.”

Later, when Jamie heads to the washroom, I smile at Hazel. “You’re right. All hockey playersareevil.”

She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “Whatever.” Her eyes narrow at me. “He likes you.”

I flush with happy, buzzy feelings. “He can hardly stand me.”

She chokes. “Are you kidding?”

“Hazel, the guyfiredme. He only rehired me because he felt bad for me. And then he saw me crying, and that made it ten times worse.” I lower my voice. “He pities me. I’m just the dog walker, basically. He doesn’t like me.”

She holds my gaze with a knowing look. “He likes you.”

I hate the flurry of butterflies in my stomach at her words.

On the counter, Hazel’s phone starts buzzing. “I have a ton of notifications,” she mutters, frowning at the screen. “Dude,” she says a moment later in a flat tone, scrolling through comments.

She’s been tagged in one of the photos with Jamie that the other students posted. It’s going viral on social media because he almost never takes photos with people. An email pops up on her phone, and she reads it.

“My class next week is full,” she says, sounding dazed.

My jaw drops. “That’s incredible.”

She shakes her head, reading on. “The whole month. My Saturday hot classes for the whole month are booked up. The studio wants to add a second class in the afternoon.”

I’m beaming. She turns to me with a funny, surprised smile, and gratitude for Jamie squeezes in my chest. I love seeing Hazel so happy and proud like this.

When he returns, Jamie insists on paying for lunch to thank Hazel for the class, and after we say goodbye to her, we head back to our apartment building.

Something occurs to me, and I turn to him with narrowed eyes. “You knew going to Hazel’s class would help her.”

He shrugs, but the corner of his mouth lifts. My heart swells.

---