in single servings. It’s the whole pitcher or it’s nothing.”
“I’d be more than happy to share a pitcher with you,” he says. “So you don’t have to take yourself on a date.”
I open my mouth to say something dismissive but he keeps going. “In fact, I make a really good batch of sangría. The best in Madrid.”
“Oh, you do?” I raise a brow.
“At least the best on the team.”
“Okay.” I’m smiling at his sincerity.
“We could skip the session right now and I’ll go make you some. I can drive us to the store. Let’s go.”
He makes a move to get off the table, but I press my hand down on his thigh to keep him in place. Okay, maybe I’m a little too close to him now but…
“You’re awfully impulsive,” I tell him.
The corner of his mouth curls up in a sheepish smile and I know he’s thinking of our kiss.
And now I’m thinking of it too.
It’s hard not to when I’m touching his warm, muscular thigh and staring at his gorgeous mouth.
“Is that a bad thing?” he asks gently. “Sometimes it’s better to just do something than think about it.”
“Yes,” I say carefully, giving him a warning look with my eyes. “And sometimes you can get in trouble by acting without thinking.”
“Am I in trouble?”
My brow shoots up. Obviously we’re now talking about it.
“No.” I swallow, feeling caught in a million different feelings and a million different ways I could handle things. “But you could have gotten me in trouble.”
That has a sobering effect on him. His face falls, eyes growing serious. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I tell him, biting my lip and looking away. I just don’t know what the right thing to say is here. “Let’s just forget about it. Put it past us.”
He pauses. “Are we talking about sangría right now?”
I burst out laughing and smack him across the shoulder. “You know what we’re talking about.”
He grins back at me, fucking cheeky devil. “I don’t know. You’re hung over. Maybe you’re not making much sense.”
“I’m making sense,” I tell him, putting on my serious business face. “Now, have you been doing the exercises every morning and evening?”
“Yes,” he says. “Of course. I just want to get better.”
“You’re getting there. Do you think the yoga helped at all?”
“In what way?”
I stare at him. “Your muscles. Your flexibility.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, I honestly think we should continue.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Why not? Are you planning on kissing me again?”
And there it is.
He bursts into a smile. “Do you want the truth?”
I raise my hand in front of his face, blocking that devastating grin. “No. I don’t. Look, I think it’s a good idea. Come on, no one’s here. Let’s do it right here.”
He hesitates. “The…yoga?”
“Yes, the yoga. Okay, fine. Come here.”
I grab his arm and tug at it until he gets off the table looking bewildered, then I lead him all the way to the warm-up room.
It’s empty, except for the Croatian, Luka, who is using the basketball net.
“Hey, Luka. I’m teaching Alejo yoga. You don’t mind, do you?”
Luka grins at Alejo in such a way that I know it’s going to get under his skin. “I don’t mind.”
“Thanks a lot,” Alejo mutters to me under his breath.
“I’m sure your machismo can handle it,” I tell him as I head to the corner of the room and pull out one of the mats. The warm-up room floor is entirely made of turf, the same as the stadium, but he’s going to need the extra support.
For Alejo’s sake, I make him start off by facing me in the easy not-quite cross-legged pose, his back to Luka, who is watching us curiously.
I go through a few rounds of just focusing on his breathing, and to be honest, being under the bright lights, having Luka nearby, the door open to the hall, I feel like my old self, back into the role of therapist and patient.
I concentrate on healing Alejo the best that I can, and he responds by giving it his all, even with an audience.
We go through many modified, easy poses, getting into a natural flow, as I do the same moves beside him.
At the end, I tell him to lie on his back and close his eyes, imagining sinking into the floor. It’s only now, though, that I notice Luka had left at some point. I don’t blame him. Yoga is a pretty silly thing to watch if you’re not doing it.