Swept Away (Wildfire Lake #3) - Skye Jordan Page 0,72

resting position, then ease into cat-cow stretches. “Breathing into the lower back, exhale, and round slowly into tabletop. Now arch the back, hold, and shift, raising the hips and scooping the back. Get a nice stretch in your spine while opening your heart.”

From the corner of my eye, I see someone come in late. As I round my spine into cat pose, I glance around the room to make sure there’s a spot for her.

But it’s not a her. It’s a him. It’s Xavier.

My stomach tumbles. My heart floats. I’m simultaneously frustrated and thrilled. He’s in jeans, a tee, and, God, I can’t believe how much I’ve missed him. But I’m not ready and my nerves tangle.

“Sorry,” I tell him, continuing the stretches, “yoga students only.” Then to the class, “Lift your hips high and bring your chest to the floor for puppy pose.”

Xavier shifts on his feet and glances around.

“Join us, Officer Wilde.” This comes from Renee in the middle of the room. I have several sassy, flirty, fun women in the class. “Grab a mat.” When he turns to do that, Renee says, “Danielle, sweetie, come back here by me.”

Danielle is directly in front of me. A wicked grin lights up her face, and she moves to a spot next to Renee.

“That’s right,” Renee tells Xavier. “You go on, right up there, honey. Give us a little eye candy on our last night here.”

A ripple of laughter flows through the room.

“What a great idea.” Xavier takes off his socks and shoes and unrolls the mat right in front of me. Fucking perfect.

“Lift back to tabletop,” I say. “Extend your right leg and your left arm.”

“Handsome,” Danielle says, “you can’t do yoga in jeans. Give us all a little sugar and shuck those bad boys.”

“Danielle,” I say combining my what-the-hell and knock-it-off tones.

“Just sayin’,” she zings. “None of us is wearing much more than boxer briefs. Why should he?”

Oh. My. God. I glare at the two women, who return snarky smiles.

Xavier moves to the side of the room again and drops his jeans.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Renee says, making everyone laugh among hoots and whistles as if this is a Chippendales show.

I close my eyes and exhale all my air, muttering, “Jesus Christ.”

“Lose that tee too,” Carmen pipes up from the back row, followed by a wave of approval from the others.

Xavier fists the back of his shirt and drags it over his head. The entire class bursts out in whistles and shouts. Some women pull out of the pose to clap. Xavier makes a melodramatic bow, then takes up his position on the mat in front of me and matches my yoga position.

“Switch,” I say. “Left leg and right arm extended.”

Once Xavier finds balance he says, “Hi.”

I sputter a laugh and shake my head. “And switch.”

“Why didn’t we have him here from the start?” one of the women asks. “Talk about motivation.”

The other women laugh and make sounds of agreement.

“I know an apology for what happened at the hospital isn’t enough,” he says. “But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew they were wrong.”

“Switch,” I say. “Engage your abdominals, elongate your spine.”

“When I saw Piper bleeding like that, I was reminded of Keith, and I lost it. You were the closest, safest target, and it was so wrong of me to hurt you like that.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Renee says. “Sing it, baby.”

I shoot Renee a scowl. “Inhale,” I say, “draw your elbow and knee together and exhale on the crunch. Extend, inhale. Crunch, exhale.”

“Jesus.” Within a few minutes, Xavier is panting. “I never realized yoga could be so hard.”

“Tuck the toes of your resting leg, and lift into a one-legged dog, reaching your opposite leg toward the sky.”

Xavier follows, grunting with the effort. “All right, ladies,” he says, “you have my undying admiration for putting yourselves through this.”

Laughter whispers through the room.

“Bending the knee, coming into plank, touching the knee to your chest, for one, two, three. Releasing into your high plank, opening into side plank.”

“Good God,” Xavier moans, “How you could possibly find this relaxing, I’ll never understand.”

More laughter, and, yeah, I’m smiling now too.

“Lifting into that stretch, stacking your feet. If this is too much for you,” I say with sarcasm in my voice, my gaze on Xavier’s, “you can drop your bottom knee to the mat.”

“Fuck that,” he says, challenge in his voice. “I’ve got this.”

I continue to go through the motions of class—push-ups, down dogs, baby cobras—trying like hell