Winning It All (Hometown Players Book 4) (4 page)

“Your hand was on her ass, Dad.”

“We’re old friends.”

I stop and glare up at him. Did he really just say that? Does he really think that’s a reasonable excuse? I open my mouth to say something, but I have no idea what a child should say to a parent in this situation. I shouldn’t have to know!

My mother walks up to us and reaches for the glass in my hand. “It may only be Veuve but I’m parched, so it’ll have to do.”

“I need to track down Elsa,” my father mutters before he walks away.

“Elsa?” my mother repeats, but he’s already gone.

“Elsa who used to work for the Winterhawks,” I explain and try not to frown.

My mother’s eyes get dark and her lips drop from the artificial half smile she usually has plastered on her face like a mask. “I know who she is.”

The way she says it, the tone that drips with disappointment, tells me she knows exactly who she is and that this isn’t the first time my father has had his hand on Elsa’s ass. Fuck. I swallow hard. “Mom, I…”

“I hear she writes for the lifestyle magazine. I hope she writes a nice piece on this place,” my mother says, the fake half smile firmly back in place. “Trey deserves some success.”

And before I can say another word, she turns to chat with someone else.

I need some air. My parents and their screwed-up marriage is, as usual, suffocating me. I make my way for the back door, just off the cardio room.

On my way I notice Trey talking to Avery Westwood. He’s the face of the NHL, so I recognize him even though I haven’t watched a hockey game in years. I wonder if he cheats on his girlfriend too. Lifestyle over love, I once heard a goalie’s wife say with a simple shrug. It was probably one of the sickest things I’ve heard, but it’s how my mother lived her life. And I promised myself that would never be my motto or my life. I push open the exit door and step out into the parking lot. I take a deep breath and try to regain the sense of euphoria I had in the laundry room with Sebastian.

Wait a minute…I just had sex with a guy I barely know and that’s bringing me peace? Who am I? I wonder if the sex with random women brings my father peace. The idea that it might, and we would have something like that in common, horrifies me. So does the idea of going back into that room and being around my parents, and now I’m embarrassed to see Sebastian again too. So when the caterer comes out, slightly panicked that we might run out of booze, I happily volunteer to pick up more. I need to get out of here.

By nine a.m. I already knew it was the worst morning ever. The gym opened the day after the party, which was almost two weeks ago. You’d think I’d be used to my schedule by now. But my alarm didn’t go off and I woke up twenty-five minutes late, instantly startled, then immediately panicked. As I ran through the apartment in a rush to get ready, I stepped in cat vomit that Roy had left as a present some time during the night. Once I finally sprinted out of my house and got into my car, it wouldn’t start. I hissed every swear word I could think of in English, and for good measure I added the few I knew in Spanish. Then I called Audrey and listened to her swear before agreeing to come and get me and take me to work.

Audrey works as a bartender at Liberty, a super-trendy bar in Capital Hill. She probably hadn’t even gotten home until a few hours ago, so I did not stop thanking her profusely the whole drive to the gym. I could have called my brother, which Audrey pointed out more than once, but Trey lives on the other side of the city, close to the gym but far from my apartment. Plus he was probably already at the gym by the time I woke up. I thought about calling his wife, Sasha, but she is seven months pregnant so I didn’t want to be bothering her if I could help it.

“Seriously, Audrey, thank you so much,” I coo as she turns onto South Weller Street, where Elevate is located.

“Yeah, yeah. But I am not picking you up for the barbeque tonight,” she mutters. Her chocolate eyes narrow, as if to prove she’s serious.

“Really? Not even if I pay you gas money?” I ask desperately. I really don’t want to take public transit there; it’ll take forever. And a cab or Uber will cost too much.

Audrey smirks at me as she pulls to a stop in the gym parking lot. “I have a feeling you’ll find someone to drive you. Out!”

She orders me out of the car. I’m too late to spend any more time pleading with her. I open the door and close it behind me as Audrey yells out, “Feel free to call me later and tell me how your day is going.”

She winks at me, which is totally weird, and waves as she pulls away. I realize I’m about to miss the beginning of class—the class
I’m
teaching—so I don’t have time to figure out why she was smiling deviously with that last comment. I push it from my mind and run into the building. I barely look up as I storm into the gym. I toss my bag at Sara behind the front counter, no time to put it in my locker, and rush into the yoga room. Trey is in there checking the temperature. He sees me and crosses his arms over his broad chest, but I ignore my brother and just start talking to the crowded room as I make my way to the front.

“Okay, everyone, welcome to hot yoga!” I clap my hands and reach the front where someone, probably Trey, has already laid out a mat for me, thankfully.

The room is full, which is exciting. We’ve been open a little less than two weeks and business has been slowly but steadily picking up. This is my first full class. Although I know he’s irked I barely made it on time, Trey gives me a quick smile, happy about the attendance.

I see several faces who have started to become familiar. There’s Mrs. Waters, who signed up the first week for our Senior Strength program; three sorority girls from the nearby university, who are also taking beginner CrossFit classes; Tom Orsen, an accountant from the building across the street, who took my Paleo seminar last Monday, and…

Frenchie
.

Just like that. Out of nowhere. Completely unexpected. He’s here in my yoga class twisting on his mat, his eyes focused on me. I must have gasped because two people in the front row freeze midway through the first pose and stare at me.

I smile and force myself to calmly coo out the next move. The class is very basic introductory hot yoga class and an hour long. It feels like twenty hours and two minutes at the exact same time. The entire time my mind is racing and my heart flipping inside my chest like a dolphin putting on a show at SeaWorld. My eyes keep landing on him like he’s the center of gravity in the room. I can’t stop myself.

He’s in the center of the back row. I must have pushed right by him and not even noticed when I scurried into the room. He’s trying valiantly to do all the poses, but struggles more than I would have expected with most of it. Such a long, thick, chiseled body…but he’s as graceful as an inebriated stallion. When he attempts the Noose Pose, even though I purposely gave an easier option, he tumbles back onto his ass with a thud. The sorority girls are all staring at him, have been the entire class, and he gives them all a giant grin. They giggle, and he chuckles back. It’s been twelve days since I last saw him—technically since the only time I’ve ever seen him—and damn if he isn’t even better looking than I remembered.

That admission, and the fact that he’s in front of me at all, has me in a tailspin. I never had a one-night stand before, and I always assumed that when you did have one, it meant you only had to see the guy once. But clearly Frenchie didn’t read the fine print. For some absurd reason, I’m really glad he didn’t. Some part of me, under the layers of panic and fear and awkward confusion, is really excited to see him again.

By the time class ends, his heather-gray Winterhawks T-shirt is dark with sweat and sticking to his broad chest and sculpted shoulders. I glance at the logo on his chest, the giant, dumb bird, and realize I’ve found his first flaw: he’s a hockey fan. He takes off his baseball cap, also with the Winterhawks logo, and his golden brown hair flies everywhere. He wipes sweat from his face with his towel before dropping the hat back on his head backward. I might have sighed, unintentionally, but if I did, it blended in with the three sorority girls who were doing the same thing.

Mrs. Waters comes over and asks me a question about one of the poses, and I happily give her a long explanation, grateful for the distraction. When she leaves, though, there’s only one person left in the yoga room. And his bright blue eyes are on me.

He doesn’t move closer. He just stands there, water bottle in one hand, towel over his shoulder, smiling at me. It’s just a small smile. His full lips turned up in the corners and his eyes twinkling. I can’t help but smile back. His grins are more contagious than the plague.

“Hi, Shay,” he says softly.

“Hello, Sebastian.” I should be using his nickname to keep it light, but I’m rattled and off my game. What the hell is he doing here?

“Miss me?” he asks. White teeth flash and he tilts his head just a little bit. He’s a goddamn world-class flirt. I roll my eyes even though my grin grows too.

“I don’t know you, so I can’t miss you, Frenchie,” I reply flatly and carry my mat over to the pile in the corner.

He just stands there staring at me and smirking. And then he changes the subject. “So yoga, huh?” he says.

“Certified instructor since college. I taught a few classes to help pay my way through school, and when I graduated I realized I’d rather keep doing it than find a job that applied my English lit degree,” I tell him and pull my hair from my ponytail, giving it a quick shake, trying to get the sweat in it to dry. Of course, it’s not going to dry, because we’re still standing in a stifling hot room. “Then I got an online degree in nutrition.”

Sebastian nods. “I’ll have to take one of your seminars.”

Something hits me. “How did you know I was teaching this morning?”

“I was at Liberty last night with some…buddies,” Sebastian explains, his accent sounding as hot as I remember as he says the name of my best friend’s workplace with a sexy French twist. “Your friend Audrey recognized me and brought us a free round of drinks. She told me you were teaching this morning.”

I smile ruefully. Now I know why she agreed to get me here on time and why she wanted me to call her and tell her how my day went. That bitch. God love her.

“Hey! You two looking to melt into puddles?” Trey calls out as he walks into the room and right over to the thermostat, cranking it down quickly. Just as quickly as he walks in, Trey walks out, but not before calling over his shoulder at me. “Shayne, we need to talk before you work the juice bar.”

“Sure thing!” I call back. My eyes land on Sebastian again as I start to walk out of the room. “I have to get going. I need to shower and talk to Trey and grovel for almost being late thanks to my stupid car not starting.”

He nods, following me. “Need help showering? I’m really good at scrubbing backs.”

I roll my eyes and point to the sixty-seven-year-old Mrs. Waters standing by the juice bar. “I don’t think Mrs. Waters would appreciate it. Unless of course you promise to scrub her back too.”

Sebastian’s smile drops. I turn and walk toward the women’s changing room, and a part of me wants nothing more than for him to follow me right in there anyway. It doesn’t surprise me that I’m still so incredibly attracted to him. He was cocky and charming and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the sex for the entire twelve days. So I hesitate before disappearing into the changing room and turn back to look at him. He’s just standing there, smirking and completely checking out my ass. I flush. Again. Our eyes meet, and I find my mouth moving and words coming out. Thoughts I shouldn’t voice but for some reason I am. “Are you…heading out?”

He shakes his head slowly: no. “I’ll be at the juice bar. Waiting for you.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing and disappear into the changing room, making sure to wiggle my ass as I go, since it’s probably still being ogled.

And I can’t help but think about the sex again now as I shower and change. By the time I’ve changed into clean yoga pants and one of our tangerine Lycra staff shirts, I’m tingling from the memories. It’s hard not to dwell on that night and all its naked, panting, sweaty glory—because it was so out of character for me and it had felt like the best decision I ever made in my entire life. Until the euphoria wore off, anyway.

It was what it was—one night of sex, my first orgasm by another human in ages, but nothing more. Because if it wasn’t a one-night stand to him, why did he wait twelve days to pop back up in my life? I shouldn’t get my hopes up just because he’s here now. He probably just needs a place to work out before his next triathlon or Iron Man or whatever extracurricular activity gives him that body. I need to keep my irrational hope in check.

He’s exactly where he said he’d be when I emerge from the women’s changing room. Just sitting on a stool, leaning on the counter, sipping one of our Green Giant smoothies and looking like sex on a stick. Damn him. I walk right by him with no acknowledgment and head into Trey’s office. Trey frowns at my entrance, and I know exactly what he’s annoyed about.

“I’m sorry. My car wouldn’t start,” I say honestly and give him a little shrug.

“When was the last time you had it serviced?” he asks gruffly.

“Two, maybe three years ago?”

“Years?! Christ, Shayne.” He frowns and runs a hand over his buzz cut. Trey is and always has been big, burly, loud and gruff. He’s a born-and-bred hockey jock. Really, my father never gave him any other choice. But deep down he’s more than a bulky body and a loud mouth. He has a sensitive side, a vulnerable one, which is why when he suffered a career-ending injury in college, he couldn’t handle it. But after rehab it became clear Trey was a smart businessman, and he worked hard to save money and create a business plan investors would get behind. On top of all that, despite our constant bickering, I know he’s got my back, and I think I’ve proven I will always have his.

“I don’t have anyone else who can cover for you, Shayne. You’re our only yoga instructor right now,” he reminds me with a stern look in his dark blue eyes.

“I know. And it won’t happen again, cross my heart.” I use my finger to trace an X over my heart.

“Will
that
happen again?” His gaze shifts to the wall of his office that faces the juice bar. I follow his gaze.

I flush and drop my gaze to the polished concrete under my feet. I inwardly curse Sara, who told him that she caught me and Sebastian in the laundry room. “Definitely not. No.”

“Definitely?” he repeats, and when I look up at him his eyebrows are raised skeptically.

“Yeah. I told you before; it was just a one-time thing.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it only happened once,” I reply smartly and cross my arms. “Listen, Trey, my personal life is personal. And your rule about not banging customers wasn’t broken. He wasn’t a customer. In fact, I could have banged everyone at that event because no one had signed a membership agreement yet.”

“Stop! Please do not talk about banging anyone, let alone
everyone
.” He closes his eyes and tries to shake some clearly uncomfortable image out of his head. After taking a deep breath he looks at me again. “Well, the ‘no sexual contact with members’ rule applies now. He just bought a yearlong membership.”

“What?!”

He nods. “Yep. And clearly he intends to use it. He’s a nice guy too. If he hadn’t boinked my sister, I’d probably like him.”

“Yeah, he’s a charmer. He’ll charm the pants right off you.”

“Apparently.”

Our eyes meet and embarrassment washes over me. I know I’m the color of a fire truck right now, but I ignore it and act inappropriately indignant anyway. Because that’s my go-to when I’ve got no leg to stand on. “Whatever. If you’re going to fire me for something that happened with him
before
he was a client, then I’ll sue your ass, bro. And I would hate for my future niece or nephew to have to live in a cardboard box while I own your empire.”

He cracks a smile. “You have such a smart mouth, you know that?”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and your child will inherit it,” I say and wink before turning and exiting his office.

Sebastian is still sipping that damn smoothie. I slip behind the bar because I’m covering it while Sara teaches a Pilates class, and I start to clean up the area. It’s pretty immaculate but the alternative is to turn around and just stare at him, and possibly drool, so cleaning it is.

“Come on…” he says to me cajolingly. “Tell me you thought about me. You know you did.”

I pull my eyes from the sink where I’m scrubbing a nonexistent stain. “What are you even doing here? You must be a member at a gym somewhere already.”