HANDLE WITH CARE (The Ludzecky Sisters Book 5)

Sofia calmed herself with rhythmic breathing and stared out the window of Eastside High School’s faculty lounge. Snow covered the ground. Many people hated the weather at this time of year, but not her. She treasured every season’s dawn and end. When she was sixteen, she hadn’t thought she’d experience very many of them again.

From behind, she heard, “Sofia?”

Max Walker had returned. She’d come to the school for a meeting with him and the vice principal and encountered a fight they’d just broken up in the hall. Since she and Max had to wait for the VP to deal with the perpetrators, Max escorted her to the teachers’ cafeteria and detoured to get her tea. The respite from his presence had allowed her to even out her
reaction to him. Now he was back.

Turning, she saw him there, this big jock who was probably intimidating to most people. She herself was thrown by the impact of his physicality and his machismo in, well, a feminine way. She nodded to the cup of steaming water he set down. “Thanks.”

They sat and she fished some herbal tea out of her purse.

“Always carry that?” he asked, extending out
his legs as if his body required special accommodation most people didn’t need.

She, for example, perched on the chair, sat straight up, spine long, neck relaxed. “I do. I have to be careful of what I eat.”

He tried to stifle the snort. “No Garbage Grub for you, huh?”

At the mention of the fat-filled, bad-for-your-arteries popular dish, she shuddered inwardly. “No, none.” And changed
the subject. “I’ve wondered how your staff is reacting to the yoga classes I’m teaching in the fall. As head of the Physical Education Department, you’d know by now.”

“Mostly positive. The female PE teachers especially. One guy is definitely not on board.”

“Let me guess, Mr. Cook.”

Dark brows rose. “How’d you know?”

“I was a student here and had him in class. He used to make snide
comments about boys taking Home Economics or whatever they call it now.”

“Family and Consumer Sciences. I didn’t know you went to Eastside.”

“I did.” Though a lot of what she remembered was her illness. For her last two years, she’d struggled with the horror of trying to do schoolwork and not give up because of the cruel anxiety and physical side effects of the leukemia treatment. Thank
God she’d found yoga after she’d had to give up dance.

“Not a pleasant experience?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Your face. It’s expressive.”

“Ah. I was sick, but I’d prefer not to talk about that, Mr. Walker.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. His
nice
mouth. “Max. We’re gonna be working together.”

“You’re the football coach here, too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, and I hope
to keep the job for a while.”

“Aren’t you good?”

He winked. “Darlin’, I’m great.”

She rolled her eyes. “I meant how’s the team doing?”

“We had a losing season last year. A
bad
one. Most of the players on our winning teams graduated. It was like starting over. I’m praying for success this year, but they have to be in the right mindset.”

“There are ways to help that along.”

“Sure, I know. The kids are lifting weights with me all winter. And we have a football camp in the summer. Practice starts in August.”

“I didn’t mean your skill preparation or muscle building.”

“What
did
you mean?”

“Your players should do breathing exercises, centering meditations, in addition to stretches and isometrics.”

He laughed out loud, and heads turned to look at him.
“That’s namby-pamby for us jocks, don’t you think?”

It was her turn to laugh—at him—though she was quieter about it. “Seriously? You still use words like that? It’s the twenty-first century.”

He scowled. “Words like what?”

“Let’s see. Pansy. Sissy. Not to mention the more hurtful ones that are feminist put-downs or gender-orientation slurs.”

His gaze turned glacial. “I’m not bigoted.
I think yoga is too easy, no, not that, too
tame
for my guys.”

“And for you?”

“Uh-huh.”

She nodded to his leg. “As soon as we started talking about the team, your knee started bobbing. Fast.”

“Yeah, my mother always said it was a telltale sign of…” He trailed off. “I get it, you think I could use all that stuff you just mentioned.”

“Yes. Everyone can benefit from it. But I’ve
been doing some research on yoga for high school kids. Athletes are the number one group they cite for needing yoga practice.”

“That can’t be true, lady.”

“You really should watch your language, Coach. You didn’t mean
lady
kindly.”

“Christ.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry we’re getting off on the wrong foot, Max. All I was suggesting was that you and your team could be better if you did
yoga poses and breathing exercises. I was hoping some of the guys would sign up for the fall session.”

“Ain’t gonna happen.”

“Obviously not, with you as a role model.”

He sat up straight and his fist clenched on the table.

Leaning in, she put her hand over it and felt the tension. She was surprised he didn’t snatch it back. “Again, I apologize. We have a difference of opinion on
this. I won’t bring it up again.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be okay.”

“On one condition.”

Now his gaze narrowed. “What?”

“Come to Serenity Yoga, my studio. Take a few classes. They don’t have to be from me. But we’ll do it free of charge. If your experience there doesn’t convince you that you’re not in as good shape as you think, I’ll be silenced till the end of time.”

As soon as
she touched him, Max went off-kilter. He stared at their hands, her small one covering his big paw. Both strength and comfort transferred from her to him. He couldn’t explain it. He raised his head. It was a mistake. She wasn’t exactly pretty, though the long hair, hanging down her back in a braid, was probably stunning spread across a guy’s pillow. In her eyes, he saw…what the hell was that? Confidence.
Security. Ah…peace. Which he longed for all of a sudden.

“Max?”

“Sorry. You’re disturbing me.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“No, that’s okay. So, let’s go over this again. You want me to take some yoga classes at the studio where you work. See if I think it can help my players, what? Be better at football?”

“Yes, they wouldn’t be the first.”

Cocking his head, he watched her.

“You know who Ray Lewis, Victor Cruz and Vernon Davis are?”

“Yeah sure. They play for the Baltimore Ravens, the New York Giants and the San Francisco 49ers.”

Approval in her eyes. Hell, he couldn’t believe he liked it. Because he didn’t much like her.

“They all take or took yoga.”

“Seriously?” Though, even as he said the word, he remembered reading something about that.

“LeBron
James and Shaquille, too. They’re athletes who turned to yoga to learn stretching, focus and body awareness.”

Max didn’t know what to say, so he shut his trap.

“The basketball coach from Duke did, too, and they recently won a NCAA championship. When asked how he stayed so calm, he said it was because he practiced yoga.”

Feeling at a disadvantage, he did what all guys do when put on
the spot. He went on defense. “You came prepared for this little game, Ms. Ludzecky. I’m not in shape for the argument.”

“Sofia,” she said, mimicking his earlier reference to using his first name. “And yes, I came prepared.”

Max watched her. Suddenly, he realized having her in his department, even for a few classes a week, wasn’t going to be harmless like he’d thought. And the notion bothered
him a lot. He looked down. Shit! His knee was bobbing again.

Before her 7:00 p.m. class, Sofia lay down on the floor, her butt on a bolster, her arms stretched out to the side and, best of all, her legs up the wall.
Viparita karani
was her favorite pose. The blood flowing down nourished all her organs and calmed her brain. She did this every day so she could teach with clarity.

A while later she heard, “Holy hell, I could
never do that.” The voice had a deep timbre, one that was familiar.

Looking over, she saw a man had entered the studio. Her heart started to beat faster, and it wasn’t from the infusion of blood to her head. “Max?”

“Hi.”

“Hold on for a sec.” She slid off the bolster, stretched out flat for ten seconds, turned on her side for five and brought herself to a seated position, with her head
coming up last. Then she vaulted to her feet.

“Wow,” he said. This time, his jaw dropped. “You can get up like that without using your arms, hand or elbow?”

“I can. Years of practice.”

“I read in a sports magazine that’s the Sit Test. It tells you how long you’re gonna live.”

She’d be an anomaly in those findings, but she didn’t say it aloud. Instead, she walked toward him. They
were alone in the large studio, with its new wooden floor and walls, skylights above them and the big Buddha shrine up front. She’d saved forever to remodel the space.

Smiling, she said, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Me, too. Surprised to be here.”

“But welcome.”

He nodded. “Don’t you wanna know why?”

“Not now. I’ve just calmed myself, blanked my mind and am focused. I
don’t want to spar with you. Can you stay afterward? This is my last class.”

“Sure.” He glanced around, like a man floating adrift at sea. “Where do I start?”

She nodded to his clothing—long navy-blue knit pants and a white T-shirt that outlined his chest. “You already have. By what you’re wearing.”

“I went to your website. Which is great, by the way. It’s inviting, though the music
drove me nuts. The instructions for class said comfortable clothing, no zippers, that kind of thing.”

She made a mental note that the music might bother some new venturers into yoga. “Come on, I’ll get you set up.”

From stacks in the corner, she picked up a mat, bolster, blankets and blocks. Immediately, he took the blankets from her. She started toward the front of the room.

“Hold
on.” She turned back. “I’m a rookie at this. Hide me off in a corner somewhere.”

“You should be close to me so I can watch you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“But okay, I’ll walk around.”

Setting him up at the far end of the floor, she said, “We start with sitting. Depending on how loose you are, you might need props under you.”

She dropped down to the mat, cross-legged, and motioned
for him to follow suit. When he tried to cross his legs, he couldn’t. She reached for the bolster. “You need to sit up on this.” She demonstrated by perching her sit bones on the rectangular pillow with firm padding, her knees easily touching the wood. “Most men have to bolster their butt up from the floor. And don’t worry that you can’t sit like me. Very few people can.”

In one easy move,
she slid the bolster from beneath her and handed it to him. He moved it under him, and at least this time, he could get his knees lower than his waist. Frowning, he said, “Hmm, nowhere close, is it?”

“You’ll be more comfortable with blankets. Move off for a minute.” He did and she came up on her knees and added two blankets. “There.”

This time, he could sit more comfortably, but his knees
were still way off the ground. “This is as good as it gets, I think.”

“It’s good enough for now, Max. The goal is to loosen you up, get you to stretch your quads, hamstrings and calf muscles so you’ll be more flexible.”

“I know I’m not flexible. I work out too hard.”

“Then you’ll really need to add stretching to your repertoire. We teach a full class on that on Saturday mornings. You
might want to—”

He held up his hand. “Don’t get carried away, babe. I’m not even sure why I’m here.”

“Babe?” She laughed at him.

At first he seemed surprised, then he must have remembered her comments in the faculty lounge and shook his head.

People began to wander in. Rolling to her feet, she smiled at the familiar faces, gave hugs, spoke to newcomers and sat one next to Max.
“This is both your first nights in yoga. Tom, this is Max.”