by Bru Baker
Table of Contents
Blurb
Chapter One: Namaste
Chapter Two: Tadasana – Mountain Pose
Chapter Three: Abhaya Hridaya Mudra – Fearless Heart Seal
Chapter Four: Mayurasana – Peacock Pose
Chapter Five: Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose
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Copyright
Downward Facing Dreamboat
By Bru Baker
Love is trying to catch up to two lonely men. Can they stop long enough to let it?
Running defines Kincaid’s life. It’s not until he loses it that he realizes how isolated he’s become. But even if an injury hadn’t forced him to slow down, the hottie in the yoga studio would have given him pause. In fact, admiring the man each morning is the only thing keeping the spring in his step when it feels like he’s lost everything.
Owen’s busy life as a yoga instructor doesn’t leave him much time to meet guys, let alone date. He’s convinced his passion for helping people is worth the sacrifice, but he’s willing to spare a few moments for the cutie who walks past the studio every morning.
When their lives intersect and romance is set in motion, they stumble off the starting block. But no matter the obstacles in their path, this race won’t be over until they reach the finish… together.
Chapter One: Namaste
“YOU CAN’T say savasana without the shhh! Please enter and leave the studio quietly.”
Kincaid stared at the sign taped to the door. There was a ridiculous cartoon of a llama doing yoga on it, one hoof held up to its lips to signal for quiet.
This was a terrible idea.
He could count everything he knew about yoga on one hand, and that knowledge didn’t include how the hell the shhh sound was in the word savasana.
The entire yoga studio was glass fronted, but the bank of heavy red drapes had been drawn, making it impossible for him to see through. The inside of the door was covered by a beaded curtain, and he could see through them just enough to confirm no one was seated at the tiny desk inside the small foyer.
He’d never been inside the studio, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t intimately acquainted with the layout. For starters, it was hard to hide anything behind floor-to-ceiling windows. When the curtains were open, he could see the length of the place, from the glossy wood floors to the mirrors that fully covered the back wall. The desk up front was big enough to hold a tablet and a plant stand, and next to it sat a water cooler with a cartoon of a dog doing a yoga pose above the words After you sink, drink!
It was a bizarre place. The only parts he couldn’t easily see from the street were a couple of spaces hidden by more of the beaded curtains. He assumed there was an office or something back there. And maybe changing rooms or storage. He didn’t know what you needed for yoga.
Kincaid liked to think of himself as open-minded, but yoga wasn’t really on his radar as a viable form of exercise. The real reason he knew the interior layout of the place was because he peeked in every morning, hoping for a look at the dreamboat of an instructor who was more flexible than any man Kincaid had ever seen.
The drapes were always closed during classes, but when the instructor was alone, they were usually open. And if Kincaid had started going in to work thirty minutes early because he’d discovered that was when the guy warmed up before his 7:30 a.m. class, well, who was the wiser?
Kincaid backed up, taking a few steps away from the door. There was obviously a class in session, and he didn’t want to interrupt. The note from his orthopedist crumpled slightly as he shoved it back into his pocket. He could stop by tomorrow or maybe call from the office. Another day wouldn’t hurt, would it?
Kincaid gritted his teeth as his first step put weight on his ankle, and he tried not to limp as he made his way down the sidewalk. He’d always been able to power through pain when he was running. It worked for blisters and sore muscles, but not so much for stress fractures. To be fair, Kincaid hadn’t realized that’s what the shooting pain in his ankle was. He’d figured it was a mild sprain from coming down on it wrong on one of his long marathon training runs.
He’d forced himself to run despite the pain even when it worsened, but it didn’t get better like his injuries usually did if he pushed through. It got worse. A lot worse. If he’d listened to his body a few weeks ago and eased off on his training, he probably wouldn’t be suffering through a severe stress fracture that threatened to derail his running future permanently.
“Hey, did you need something?”
Kincaid started and spun toward the voice, wincing when it tweaked his ankle. Pain lanced up his leg, the sharp waves making his stomach lurch. The walking boot could only help so much. Mostly it was a physical reminder that Kincaid needed to take it easy. Not that it had been working very well for him. He wasn’t used to having to take things slow, and it was killing him.
Kincaid started again when he realized the man who’d spoken to him was the yoga instructor. His dreamboat. Kincaid tried to smile, but the look of concern on the man’s face told him he hadn’t quite succeeded.
The man took a step forward, his arms out like he was ready to catch Kincaid if he fell. It was enough to tempt Kincaid to swoon on purpose.
“Are you all right?”
Kincaid cleared his throat and hobbled back to the studio’s door. He’d fantasized about meeting his dreamboat plenty of times, but none of them started with him accessorizing his outfit with a clunky walking boot or nearly falling over from embarrassment when the guy greeted him.
He could rally.
“I’m fine. I didn’t mean to interrupt your class. I was just looking at you. I mean, not looking at you. Looking for you. Or someone who could give information about getting registered.”
So much for rallying and making a good second impression. Kincaid wondered if he should cut his losses and hobble away. He could find a new route to work. Maybe take the bus that was closer to his apartment. Sure, it would add an extra hour to his trip, but that would be better than suffering through this.
The guy laughed. “Well, you found me. Or rather, I found you. Class let out about ten minutes ago. I just hadn’t opened the drapes yet. Why don’t you come in, and we can chat? I’m guessing you are looking to start your practice?”
Kincaid tried to evenly distribute his weight as he walked in, but the yoga instructor watched him warily and motioned him over to one of the beaded curtains. Kincaid parted them cautiously and stepped through into a small office.
“It’s that obvious that I’m not a pro?”
The guy’s cheeks dimpled when he smiled. “Sorry, yeah.”
Kincaid laughed as he lowered himself into the chair in front of the desk. “Guilty as charged. I’m here because my doctor suggested it.”
“Let me guess,” the man said, sizing Kincaid up with a thoughtful look. “Pickup basketball league, torn ligament in your ankle, and your doctor gave you the choice between mandatory PT and yoga.”
“Marathon runner, lower tibia stress fracture, ordered into physical therapy, and strongly encouraged to take up yoga as well. You came pretty highly recommended by my ortho.”
The man let out a laugh. “You must have really jacked yourself up for that. Training or race?”
Kincaid wrinkled his nose. “I noticed the pain about three weeks before the race, but I pushed through it. I was able to finish, but my time was shit. My ortho says I’m lucky I didn’t complete the fracture running on it like that. It’s pretty severe.”
The instructor dropped into a low crouch and held his hand out to the ankle Kincaid had been favoring.
His fingers hovered over Kincaid’s ankle. “May I?”
Kincaid nodded and hiked his pant leg up at the knee.
“I’m Owen, by the way. I always think it’s best to introduce myself before I start feeling a student up,” he said with a bright grin. “First things first—let’s see what we’re up against.”
Owen’s touch was gentle as he unfastened the boot and put it to the side. He probed at Kincaid’s sock-covered ankle, wincing in sympathy when Kincaid sucked in a pained breath as Owen’s fingers found the right spot.
“Sorry. I’m guessing this is the fracture site?” He looked up, and Kincaid nodded, surprised that Owen had zeroed in on it. Owen smiled. “It’s a high stress point in runners.”
“So you’ve seen stress fractures like this before?”
Owen nodded. “It’s a pretty common injury. I’m sure we can put together a practice that will help you as you heal.”
Kincaid was skeptical of how much yoga could help him, but Dr. Chester assured him that it would be beneficial, especially if he went to someone who had a background in working with injured athletes. Kincaid wasn’t a professional runner, but he wasn’t a weekend warrior, either. He was dedicated to staying fit, and he liked the way running let him tune out. He didn’t want to lose that release because of an injury that healed wrong.
“I won’t actually schedule you until I get the okay from your physical therapist, but this gives me a better idea of your limitations.” Owen made a face. “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”
Kincaid fought the urge to cringe when he realized he’d forgotten to introduce himself. This entire encounter had been one embarrassment after another. “Kincaid.”
Owen smiled and tugged Kincaid’s pant leg back down before he stood up. “Well, Kincaid, I’m glad you came in today. Even if I did have to chase you down.”
Kincaid laughed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Dr. Chester’s nurse mentioned this place specifically when he recommended yoga. I pass it every day on my way to work, so I figured I’d stop in, but then I thought it might be creepy to come in during a class.”
“It’s not creepy. It’s good for you to get a feel for the studio since I hope you’ll continue on with yoga after your physical therapy.” He winked at Kincaid. “You runners are notorious for falling into the ‘too much, too soon’ trap.”
Kincaid knew that was true. He hadn’t been for a run in three weeks, and restlessness buzzed in his muscles more every day. He’d known something was wrong with his ankle, but he hadn’t wanted to throw away months of training because of a little pain. That little pain had been excruciating by the end of the 26.2 miles, but it hadn’t muted the joy he’d felt at crossing the finish line. He’d probably be out there now, fighting through the pain, if not for the fact that Dr. Chester made it clear that if he didn’t let the stress fracture heal properly that marathon would probably be his last.
“I’ve been on full rest for three weeks, but I’ve been procrastinating on setting this up,” Kincaid admitted.
Owen’s laugh was rich and full. Kincaid had seen him laughing through the window before, and he’d always been curious about what it would sound like. It definitely met expectations.
“Most people do,” he said. He plucked a card off the messy desk. “I always do a get-to-know-you visit before we start when I’m working with someone who has an injury. That way we can be sure yoga is a good fit for you, and we can talk about what you need to get out of the program.”
“I work a pretty set schedule, so as long as you have evening or late afternoon hours, it should work out.”
“Do you have other evening commitments we need to plan around?”
Sadly, he didn’t.
“I spend most of my free time training for races, so since I can’t run I don’t have a lot going on. I have a group of friends I travel around the country with for marathons, and we usually run together after work and on weekends. I’m hoping I can get over this injury and back into running shape without having to sacrifice the Maui marathon we do every other year.”
Kincaid hadn’t realized how much of his life revolved around running until he couldn’t do it. He’d watched more Netflix in the past three weeks than he had in three years before that.
“Ooh, I can see why you wouldn’t want to miss that,” Owen said. “I’m here Monday and Wednesday evenings. I’d like to plan to do a few private lessons before we transition you to a class. That way I can help you modify poses that would put too much stress on your ankle. You can stop in or call when your PT gives you the okay to get started. If I’m not here, tell them I told them to give you my first available evening, okay? I’d rather not enable your procrastination.”
Kincaid laughed. “I promise.”
Owen’s grin lit up his face. He had laugh lines around his eyes, and they crinkled up endearingly when he smiled. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”
Kincaid stood cautiously, but luckily the throbbing pain in his ankle had subsided.
Owen nodded approvingly.
“We’ll be taking things slow, which I know will be frustrating for you. You need to focus on your actual physical therapy more at first because you need to address the issues the stress fracture has caused before we can start preventing future damage with the yoga.”
“Yoga will help make sure this doesn’t happen again?”
Owen nodded. “It’s not a guarantee, but it will definitely help. Do you cross-train?”
Not as much as he should. Kincaid swam and lifted weights when it was too cold or wet to run outside, since he didn’t like treadmills. But mostly he ran.
“Not really, no.”
“Well, yoga will help strengthen your core and get you to stretch out those quads and hamstrings. Loosening up your legs will help your form, which can help avoid repetitive stress injuries like this one.”
He tapped the card in Kincaid’s hand.
“Be sure to call once you’re given the okay. I can tell you’re anxious to get back out there, and I swear this will help.”
“I see Dr. Chester again today for another X-ray. He told me if this one looks good, he’ll release me to physical therapy.”
“Even then, no running. Your PT will probably have you hold off on weight-bearing cardio for another week or two. Sometimes bones heal in that month off, sometimes they take longer. We won’t know till he sees your X-rays. Swimming, biking, and some faster walking will probably be the PT’s recommendation. And I’ll do my part to get your heart rate up, I promise.”
Kincaid swallowed at Owen’s unintentionally suggestive words. That wouldn’t be a problem. He’d recovered from his initial nerves, but even now Kincaid’s heart was racing from being so close to Owen. How was he going to survive having Owen guide him into yoga positions without embarrassing himself?
Owen seemed to read Kincaid’s discomfort, and he tilted his head to the side for a moment, his cheeks coloring lightly. “Ah. I didn’t mean it like that.” He looked flustered, which was adorable. “It’s just that most athletic guys figure yoga is a walk in the park, but it’s actually as easy or as difficult as you make it. If you put effort into your practice, you’ll find that it’s very satisfying.”
Kincaid’s lips twitched at Owen’s choice of words, which caused Owen to close his eyes and chuckle. “I mean, you’ll find it’s a satisfying workout. Wow. I apologize. My mind must be somewhere else today.”
“I’m looking forward to you getting my heart rate up.” Flirting openly wasn’t something Kincaid usually did, but he couldn’t help himself. Maybe he did have some game after all.
Owen coughed and looked away, but Kincaid was almost positive it was to hide a smile.
“Okay, getting us back on track. You’re obviously an avid runner. How about other sports? Any yoga before, Kincaid?”
Kincaid grinned. Owen was changing the subject, and he definitely had a faint blush to his cheeks. Kincaid was usually horrible at gauging interest
from other people, but he would bet good money that Owen was enjoying their banter. He hoped there would be time to explore that later.
“Once. My sister is into it, and she dragged me to a class a few years ago. All I remember is it being ridiculously hot and not understanding most of what the instructor said for the whole hour and a half.”
“Sounds like Bikram. They heat the room to about 105 degrees Fahrenheit to help practitioners sweat out their toxins and loosen their muscles.”
“I felt like I was trying to sweat out my spleen.”
“So no Bikram yoga for you. Got it. Do you remember any of the positions? Were there any you particularly liked?”
“The only pose I remember was Natalie doing something on her belly with her feet arched up to almost touch her head. I didn’t even try that one. It seemed like there was a high risk of accidental castration.”
Owen barked out a laugh. “Probably purna salabhasana.”
“Bless you?”
“So you’re funny as well as handsome and athletic?” Owen teased, and Kincaid preened internally at the compliments. “In English it’s called full locust pose, but I always find the Sanskrit words more fun to say.”
Before Kincaid could respond, Owen held his hand up and shook his head. “Don’t worry. I don’t break out into Sanskrit until at least the fifth class.”
Kincaid was sure he still looked horrified, if the way Owen laughed was any indication. “Kidding. I always call out poses in English, and I’m right there modeling the pose for the class. Obviously while we’re doing the one-on-one sessions I’ll be there guiding you into position. Don’t worry. I won’t get you in over your head.”
“What do I need to wear? Do I need, uh…?” Kincaid flushed, thinking about the close-fitting shorts Owen usually wore at the studio. They weren’t quite bike shorts, but they weren’t basketball shorts either. Kincaid had spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about them, and he hoped that didn’t show on his face.
Owen followed Kincaid’s gaze down to his own close-fitting shorts. He threw back his head and laughed.
