Page 20 of The Season
“I’ll call you,” Tom assures her.
“Okay.” The woman’s voice is tight. “Sure.”Please don’t, I can practically hear her thinking.
The door latches shut, the sound followed moments later by Tom’s snoring. I grit my teeth, and make a mental note to invest in some earplugs.
* * *
“You’re just staringat Lily’s ass, aren’t you?”
At the sound of Eddie’s voice, I nearly fall face forward from downward dog and onto the grimy carpet beneath my yoga mat.
“No,” Matty retorts defensively. I look through my legs in time to see the upside-down version of Matty’s cheeks flush, his spoon of cereal halfway to his mouth, his blue eyes wide as a startled deer.
“Oh. Okay.” Eddie continues, turning his back to Matty to rifle through the cabinets. “You’re just up extra early having breakfast with a front-row seat to Lily’s morning yoga session,” he deadpans, then gives a hiss of dismay. “Where the fuck are all the bowls? Does no one do any dishes in this place?”
I take a deep breath, moving from down dog, to plank, to cobra, glad neither of them can see my smile. I already know Eddie won’t be finding a single clean bowl in the kitchen, because I looked. After my terrible night’s sleep, I ended up waking up thirty minutes before my alarm and it was either do some yoga in the living room or listen to Tom’s snores.
I chose yoga.
Eddie washes a bowl, pours himself some cereal, then sits facing Matty at the table, essentially blocking Matty’s view of me. “Now you get to look at my gorgeous face instead,” Eddie says between mouthfuls.
“Gross,” Matty grumbles. “Chew with your mouth closed, you heathen.”
Something in my chest tightens, my earlier wariness of the guy Matty called the baby-faced assassin dissipating. I’d thought yesterday he’d been staring at my chest—and maybe he had been—but he’s also just called Matty out and is giving me a moment of privacy in this overcrowded space.
I move back to down dog, then drop into child’s pose, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the musty smell of the carpet. I might be sleep deprived, but at least I won’t pull a muscle on the snow today.
“Why are you eating breakfast anyway?” Matty asks. “I thought instructors got a free breakfast at the mountain?”
“Yah. Sure,” Eddie snorts. “If a bagel and muesli bar count as breakfast. I usually just put them in my pocket and eat them on the lift for a snack.”
“What’s a muesli bar?”
“What?”
“I said…”
“I heard what you said,” Eddie interrupts. “How the fuck don’t you know what a muesli bar is? Do they not have processed food up in Idaho or something? Are you like, Amish?”
“They call it a granola bar here,” Liam says around a yawn. I sit up in time to see him stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “You’re not in New Zealand anymore, Dorothy.”
He stretches, shirt riding up and sweats dropping low on his hips with the movement, revealing a stretch of pale flesh and the flash of a tattoo on one hip. He’s got that dip that some guys have, and the hint of defined abs, and for some reason, I find that just as surprising as the tattoo.
Liam clears his throat. I look up in time to see him frowning at me, an unreadable expression on his face. My cheeks burn, and I quickly turn away, busying myself with rolling up my yoga mat.
“Why is everyone making so much noise?” Tom whines, stomping out of the room we share.
His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s still wearing the clothes he went out in the night before. Liam’s frown deepens and he shoots Tom a look of disgust before giving him his back and opening the fridge.
“Way I heard it, you were the one making all the noise last night,” Eddie says teasingly, not missing a beat.
Tom’s ruddy cheeks darken, and he fixes his bloodshot eyes on me accusingly. Like his being called out is somehow my fault.
I straighten, my yoga mat tucked under my arm, and lift a brow at him in silent challenge.
Despite the fact that I haven’t actually said a word to any of the guys about what Tom was up to last night, I’m not about to apologize. I’ve dealt with guys like Tom all my life—they view politeness as weakness and treat weakness as an invitation.
“What can I say?” Tom says, lifting one shoulder and giving Eddie and Matty what he probably thinks is a winning smile. “Chicks love my cock.”
