Page 22 of Reptile Dysfunction
“It is,” Cara cuts in firmly. “His mother has been singing your praises all week. Bread’s easier than speeches. Now scoot—some of us have customers.”
As we walk away, I raise an eyebrow. “Mitchell boy?”
“Nate. Jumped in too soon. Nothing major.”
“His mom clearly disagrees.”
“Just doing my job.” But his snakes bask in the praise, some trying to act dignified, others shamelessly pleased.
I loop my arm through his. The gesture sends a subtle thrill through me, and I catch several of his snakes leaning toward me, Sterling managing a soft brush of my hair.
“I like that,” I murmur. “When they reach for me like they can’t help it.”
“They’re not the only ones,” he says quietly, and the smile I give him is the kind that flips my stomach. To underscore his point, he slides his arm around my waist, and excitement thrills through me at the feeling of possession in his action.
We find a picnic table near the music stage. The honey cakes are absurdly good—golden, buttery, and just the right amount of sweet.
“So,” I say, licking honey from my thumb, “about that second Pilates class.”
His snakes go still. “What about it?”
“You crushed mat class. But I also teach reformer. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 4:30. Plenty of time to swap out of your swimsuit and into something stretchy.”
“Reformer?” He tries for bored, but Sterling watches me like he’s taking notes.
“Machine. Springs. Sliding carriage. Way harder than mat work. Requires actual precision, not just brute strength.”
“I have plenty of precision.”
“On a mat, maybe. But the reformer doesn’t forgive poor form.” I smirk. “Unless you’re worried it might actually challenge those impressive swimmer muscles?”
“I’m not worried about a machine.”
“Methinks the Gorgon doth protest too much.”
“I’ll tell the Silver Swimmers you’re afraid of equipment.”
“Sloane, that’s fighting dirty.”
“Those ladies fight dirtier. They’ve been asking when you’re going to graduate from beginner mat work.”
Suspicion flickers across his face. “Is that what this is about? The Meddling Mavens’ matchmaking?”
“This is about watching Mr. Big Bad Gorgon attempt a long stretch on the reformer.”
I enjoy the confusion on his face. “It’s an advanced move. Very… demanding. Unless you’re worried you can’t handle it?”
Sterling actually bobs indignantly.
“Oh, how cute. Your snakes are offended on your behalf,” I laugh, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek that Sterling tries to intercept.
“Shameless,” Thad mutters, though his eyes are locked on me, intense and filled with something warm and real.
“I can handle anything your class throws at me,” he says, voice low and confident.
“Monday at 4:30,” I say, offering my hand. “Fair warning: I don’t go easy on anyone. Not even intimidating instructors with excellent hair.”
He takes it—his hand warm and big around mine—and I swear I feel fireworks from the contact.
