Page 28 of Puck Sweat Love

But we all have baggage. It isn’t the baggage that matters, it’s how we deal with it, and so far, Tank seems to be rising to the challenge of slaying his dragons.

It’s impressive.

And attractive.

And sexy…

I already suspect I could lose my heart to this man, but is that really what I’m looking for right now? Like I was telling Bree, I just ended things with the last complicated man I dated. Shouldn’t I take a time out to rest and regroup before getting involved with another?

Mr. Sniffles waddles over, collapsing with a dramatic groan at my feet.

“You’re right, the timing isn’t ideal,” I say, rubbing my bare toes into his scruff. “But you know what Yogi Shri always said in training—when you’re ready to learn, the universe will provide the teacher. Maybe Tank has something to teach me.” I nibble my lip. “Maybe we have something to teach each other…”

No sooner have the words left my lips than my phone buzzes again. I glance down to see Tank’s name and a hope butterfly takes wing in my chest.

Tank:Hey. Just wanted to let you know that I made it home safe. And to thank you for a great night. Sleep well, and see you on Sunday.

It’s simple,direct—just like him—but enough to send another giddy grin creeping across my face.

Me:You, too. Maybe we can grab a smoothie or a coffee or something after your lesson? I can leave Mr. Sniffles at home for a couple hours so we can talk without fearing another toxic airborne event.

Tank:Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be looking forward to it.

Me: Me too.

I pressmy phone to my chest with a happy sigh.

This feels right. Whatever this is, wherever it’s going, I want to see it through, to learn whatever lessons this connection has to teach me.

As I finally make my way to the shower, I find myself humming under the spray, a lightness in my heart that hasn’t been there in longer than I care to admit. Falling for a grumpy hockey player with a troubled past wasn’t on my vision board for this year.

But then, the universe has a funny way of giving us what we need, even when we don’t know we need it.

CHAPTER 7

TANK

I’m a pervert.

A complete and total fucking pervert.

That’s the only explanation.

“Fold forward and reach for your toes, keeping your spine long and your knees soft at first,” Stephanie says, but all I can think about as her hands track slowly from my mid-back toward the base of my spine, is how much I want her hands everywhere else.

Deep, slow breaths and constantly bringing my thoughts back to the mat are barely enough to keep me from pitching a tent in my yoga pants. I’ve been seconds away from a “hot-for-teacher” inspired hard-on since I walked through the door an hour ago.

It doesn’t help that I’ve been replaying that kiss over and over in my head since Friday, to the point that I had to take matters into my own hands last night just to get to sleep. The fact that I was jerking off to fantasies about the sexy as hell woman crouched behind me as I sit, reaching for my toes, is wrecking any shot I had at Zen.

“Good,” she murmurs in a husky voice that does further damage to my self-control. “Release the tension in your jaw andsee if you can breathe all the way down here, at the small of your back. Try to breathe into my hands.”

I follow her instructions, relaxing, breathing, trying to get my act together and focus on the work. My hamstrings burn, but in a good way that tells me I’m making progress, and my shoulders don’t hurt at all in a forward fold anymore. Just two private sessions and three group classes, and I’ve made impressive progress.

She’s an excellent teacher.

And so stunning in that green tank top that brings out the gold flecks in her eyes that it almost hurts to look at her.

“Beautiful, Tank,” she murmurs, rubbing her hands up and down on my back, sending electricity prickling across my skin. “Now, lie down and we’ll do a quick throat opener before moving into savasana.”

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