Page 42 of In It to Win It

Everly heads straight toward us, Taylor tagging along behind.

“You actually came!” Everly says to us with a big smile.

“Sure. You thought we’d bail?”

“I did wonder.”

“Hi, Taylor,” I say, keeping my voice even.

“Hi.”

“Taylor, this is my brother Harrison. Harrison, Taylor Hart.”

Harrison shakes her hand, his smile appreciative. “Nice to meet you.”

I want to punch him.

“You too,” she says. “I watched you play the other night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You were at the game?” I interject, frowning.

“Yeah.” She smiles, nodding.

“Huh.” I can’t believe I didn’t know she was there. “Guess you saw my penalty shot goal, then.”

“I did.” Her cheeks get a little pink. “Even though you play for the wrong team, it was pretty good.” She hitches one shoulder.

“Pretty good! It was amazing.”

“It kinda was,” Harrison acknowledges, and I hold out a fist for him to bump.

“Thanks, man. Appreciate that.”

“Hi, everybody!” a female voice calls out from near the front door of the building. “I’m Arya Ross. I’m the owner of Makara Yoga and your instructor today. I see we have a few newcomers to the class.”

She smiles at me and Harrison, then Everly.

“Holy shit,” Harrison mutters to me. “She’s hot.”

“She looks like every other chick you date.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Whatever.” Harrison definitely has a thing for blondes. I guess objectively Arya is good-looking—long gold hair in a bouncy ponytail, smooth tanned skin, and a big smile. Wearing a cropped bra top and leggings, her body is slim and toned.

I’d rather look at Taylor, though.

She’s wearing a similar outfit, with an open zipped hoodie over it. I take in her taut abs, the only skin I can see right now, her flowered leggings hugging her perfect legs. She catches me staring and lifts an eyebrow.

I smile.

She turns away, but that just gives me an excellent view of her perfect ass in that stretchy fabric.

“Wonder if she’d like to join me for some downward doggy-style later,” Harrison says in a low voice, jerking his head toward our instructor.

I try not to laugh. “Douche.”

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