Over the past week, she’d come to the door several times, but I hadn’t answered it. I’d avoided going to the bar or the diner because I hadn’t wanted to run into her. I’d done my grocery shopping in Parish Creek just so I wouldn’t run into her at the H-E-B in Wishing Well.
In the back of my mind, I knew that I was being ridiculous. If I was going to stay in town, I needed to figure out how to be around her and not want to throw her up against the nearest hard surface and fuck her. That inappropriate, primitive impulse was exactly why I hadn’t talked to her since the dinner and why I’d eaten in record time and told her I was tired, for all intents and purposes kicking her and Channing out after less than twenty minutes.
Olivia had always done something to me. She’d always affected me in a way that no one else ever had. But now that we were older, it was so much stronger than it had been when we were younger. She inspired things in me on a deeper, primal level. I didn’t just want to kiss her or make love to her, I wanted to rip her clothes off and drive into her over and over again. I wanted to claim her. I wanted her to forget that any other man had ever existed.
So, I was back to keeping my distance. It had been torture. But I was hoping that the restorative yoga class that my new PT had recommended would help ease some of the tension that I’d been feeling. I’d never done yoga before, but I had an entirely new appreciation for it after witnessing Olivia do it every morning.
As I drove the short distance to the community center where the class was held, I had to admit I was a little bit concerned that I wouldn’t be able to keep up. It was strange getting used to living in a body with limitations. All my life I’d been an athlete, so I’d stayed in competitive shape. If I wanted my body to do something or be something, I would push myself until I did it or achieved it.
Dr. Weston, or Jake, had assured me that it would be mainly stretching and breathing but there was still a nagging insecurity that it would be beyond my capabilities. My fears, however, were put to rest when I pulled into the community center parking lot and saw Dixie Rose Porter, Edith Scoggs, Barbara-Jean Nelson, and Dorothy Higgins were all congregated outside with their yoga mats slung over their shoulders. All four of the ladies had been card-carrying AARP members since before I was born. Maybe this class would be just my speed.
I found a spot beneath a large oak tree and parked. The Texas sun was no joke but there was a nice breeze this afternoon so I decided to roll my windows down halfway, something I would never do anywhere other than Wishing Well. The ladies had either all grown hard of hearing or they weren’t wearing their hearing aids—or both—because they were speaking at volumes that I could hear from inside my truck, a good fifty yards away.
I’d always found the dynamic between the foursome entertaining. My mom used to watch the Golden Girls when I was a kid and I’d always thought of Mrs. Scoggs as Sophia, Mrs. Nelson as Blanche, Mrs. Higgins as Rose, and Mrs. Porter as Dorothy.
“Barbara-Jean!” Mrs. Scoggs exclaimed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Is Alexis still in the coma?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Nelson replied solemnly as she placed her hand on Mrs. Porter’s forearm. “The poor dear.”
“What about the baby?” Mrs. Higgins implored.
“The baby is doing okay.” Mrs. Nelson assured her.
“And what about Trent?” Mrs. Porter covered Mrs. Nelson’s hand which was still resting on her forearm and patted it. “Is it true that he had an affair with the nurse?”
“I think so,” Mrs. Nelson sighed.
“I just don’t know how you can watch your granddaughter go through all of those things.” Mrs. Higgins shook her head as the foursome walked into the building.
Damn. I thought I had problems. I knew that Mrs. Nelson had a granddaughter, but I had no idea that she’d had a baby, was in a coma, and her husband was cheating on her. I guess it was all about perspectives.
“Holden Reed!” I heard my name being shouted as I climbed out of my truck.
When I shut my door, I looked up to see Fred Rogers—yes, that was his real name—walking toward me. He’d been our postman my entire life. I remembered as a kid I’d loved that Mr. Rogers delivered my mail. It made it a little bit less of a novelty since he delivered every other kid in town’s mail as well.
“Mr. Rogers, how are you doing?”
He smiled brightly as he walked toward me. I noticed that he had a limp and a little less hair than he had the last time I saw him. He’d retired from the post office when I was in middle school, so he had to be in his eighties now. “Well, I woke up this mornin’, so I can’t complain.”
Since my fall, I’d had the exact opposite viewpoint.
“How are you, son?” He asked, slapping his hand on my shoulder. It didn’t quite sting as much as it had when Bentley had done it. “Your daddy said that you got pretty banged up.”
“Just takin’ it day by day,” I replied.
“That’s all any of us can do.” He nodded thoughtfully.
I pulled the yoga mat I’d never used but had gotten as swag from a sponsor out of the truck and shut the door.
“Are you here for yoga?” Mr. Rogers’ long white brows lifted up so that they almost touched his hairline.
“Yep. My physical therapist recommended it.”
“Oh, you’re gonna love it!” He beamed.
Our conversation quickly turned to the Cowboys offense as we walked into the center and down the hall to the gym. When I pushed open the door, I was surprised at how many people were there. The room was full. As we walked in I noticed that that the Golden Girls were all lined up in the front row seated on their mats.
Their faces lit up when they saw us.
Mrs. Nelson held out her arms. “Holden Reed, what are you doing here?”
“How’s your back, dear?” Mrs. Scoggs asked.
“Are you taking the class?” Mrs. Higgins sat up straighter. “You’ll love it!”
They all spoke at the same time.
“My back is fine, and yes, I’m here to take the class.”
“What a treat!” Mrs. Nelson clapped her hands together.
“His physical therapist ordered it. I’m going to show him the ropes!” Mr. Rogers slapped me on my shoulder. This time it actually stung a little and I noticed that he puffed his chest out as he started to walk toward the back of the room. “Ladies, Dixie Rose, have a good class.” Fred dipped his chin as we passed by the women.
When we got to the back of the room and laid out our mats, I noted that Mr. Rogers’s attention was still focused on the front row. Specifically, Mrs. Dixie Rose Porter. I was pretty sure he had a thing for her and had for years.
It made me wonder if I would still be pining after Olivia when we were old and grey. When I was in my teens, I would’ve dismissed that thought as ridiculous, but now… I was going to be thirty in a couple of months and, if anything, I was more infatuated with her today than I had been when I was a teenager.
My phone buzzed and Mr. Rogers leaned over to me. “No phones in class.”
I pulled it out of my pocket and saw that it was a text from Luciana saying we should talk. She didn’t ask how I was, or even where I was, just that we should talk. I’d seen several paparazzi photos of her with a new mystery man, so I figured she was just calling to let me know that it was serious with him, a conversation that didn’t need to happen. I knew we were over.
After I turned my phone to silent, the door opened, and I looked up to see Olivia walk in. Within seconds my palms grew damp, my throat closed, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wondered if she would ever enter a room and I wouldn’t go into anaphylactic shock.
As always, she looked absolutely breathtaking. Her hair was in two braids, just like she used to wear it when we were kids, and she had on black leggings, a loose-fitting white tank top, and a pink sports bra that gave her a peek-a-boo of cleavage. I couldn’t believe she was taking the class. It seemed beneath what I knew her skill level was thanks to my early morning peep show.
>
The hum of conversation quieted as she walked to the front of the room and faced everyone. That’s when I realized she wasn’t taking the class, she was teaching it.
“Good afternoon, everybo—” she stopped speaking when our eyes met.
She stared at me with her mouth hanging open. It was obvious that she was just as, if not more surprised to see me than I was to see her.
“Holden Reed is taking the class today,” Mrs. Nelson explained.
“His physical therapist recommended it,” Mrs. Scoggs added.
“Oh…” Olivia nodded and pasted a smile on her face. “Okay…good…I mean it’s good to have you.”
She then blinked twice and continued on with her spiel, explaining what we could expect in the class. As she spoke, I noticed that she didn’t look in my direction again, which was fine by me.
I was going to have to avoid looking at her when she was demonstrating poses because I was scared that it might trigger X-rated images of her morning yoga sessions and I’d become…excited. A few weeks ago, I’d been worried that I might not ever get a boner again, now I was worried I might pop one during a class filled with senior citizens. One day I might appreciate the irony in that, today I just wanted to get through the next hour without embarrassing myself.
Chapter 12
Olivia
“To heal a wound, ya need to stop touching it.”
~ Maggie Calhoun
“Reach forward, scooping your tailbone.” I weaved my way through the class, making sure that everyone’s form was correct.
Well, almost everyone. I’d barely glanced at Holden. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Holden Reed was actually in my class. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d fantasized about him showing up. But, in all the fantasies I’d had, it had never been because he was actually taking it.
I tried not to let his presence affect me, but I’d failed miserably.
Thankfully, I’d been teaching this class for so long that I could basically do it in my sleep. Which is the only way I’d gotten through it. I’d been on autopilot; it was a nervous tick I’d developed when I was a kid.
Growing up, I’d been painfully, debilitatingly shy. To combat my shyness, my mom had me compete in ballroom dance competitions. I’d have so much anxiety leading up to events, that I’d be sure I was going to be sick or pass out. But once I got out on the dance floor and the song started, a switch would flip in my brain and I would perform without even thinking about it.
That was what happened today. I’d taught the entire class without thinking about it because Holden’s presence had knocked the wind right out of me. Literally, when I’d seen him, all of my breath left, just like the time I fell out of my brother’s tree fort.
“Make sure you keep your shoulders relaxed,” I instructed as I walked by Mrs. Higgins, who had a tendency to tense up. “Just melt into the mat. Inhale to lengthen, and on your exhale surrender to your breath.”
“Now, slowly, roll up and open your eyes.” I returned to my mat at the front of the class and lifted my hands above my head. “Inhale once more.” I brought them down to my chest in prayer. “And exhale.” I bowed. “Namaste.” I lifted my head. “Thanks, everyone. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
As the group gathered their things, I made the executive decision that I was not going to go out of my way to talk to Holden.
I hadn’t seen him since our dinner a week ago. A dinner I’d slaved over for five hours, and he’d rushed through in less than ten minutes before claiming that he was tired and wanted to call it an early night.
I’d stopped by several times since then, but he’d pretended that he wasn’t home even though I knew he was. I still didn’t know what had made him stop speaking to me all those years ago, but I’d extended a peace offering in the form of my mama’s famous fried chicken. The ball was in his court now.
I was done putting myself out there. I mean, unless you counted my morning yoga sans clothes. I was still doing that. But he didn’t know that was for his benefit.
“Great class as always, Liv.” Barbara Jean-Nelson smiled widely as she stopped in front of me.
“Thank you,” I smiled back.
A mischievous sparkle twinkled in her green eyes as she motioned with her tiny, wrinkled hand for me to move closer to her. I lowered my head and she whispered, “Is it true that you’re teaching a naked yoga class? You know my granddaughter says there is a man that teaches naked yoga in a park by her house.”
Barbara-Jean’s granddaughter Sasha was an actress who starred in a popular soap opera and lived in Los Angeles. Barbara-Jean mentioned her anytime she wanted to up her street cred. I’d overheard her telling some of the high school students that she’d bought weed with a credit card when she was visiting Sasha in California. I had to admit, they had seemed to be impressed.
“No. I’m not.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you sure? That’s what the word on the street is.”
The word on the street?
Instead of trying to continue to deny the “word on the street”, I figured I might as well set the record straight. “I’m not teaching a class, but I have tried naked yoga in my own personal practice.”
“Well, I’d love to try it.” Something caught her attention over my shoulder and before she spoke again, I knew exactly who was behind me. I had a Holden sixth sense. “What about you Holden Reed, are you up for some naked yoga?”
Her choice of words had NSFW images of Holden being up for yoga filling my mind’s eye. My palms dampened and nerves pinged through me as I waited for his response. This was it. I was about to find out if my plan had worked, or if I’d been freezing my tatas off for nothing this past week. If he acted as if he’d never heard of such a thing, then I’d know he was clueless about the nudie show I’d been putting on. But if he got embarrassed or changed the subject, then I’d assume he was in the know.
“Maybe.”
Crap. That answer didn’t tell me anything.
“If I was in the privacy of my own home.” His voice deepened. “Or backyard.”
Bingo. He’d definitely seen me. I could feel my cheeks turn bright red. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed that I’d been doing naked yoga in the hopes that Holden would see me. There was absolutely zero shame in my game. I just hadn’t expected that the subject would be brought up in front of a woman who happened to be like a surrogate grandma to me.
“Definitely something to think about.” Mrs. Nelson winked.
“Barbara Jean, are you coming?” Mrs. Scoggs called out not waiting for a reply as she walked outside. “I want to get our spot.”
“I’m coming!’ Mrs. Nelson waved at her friend before turning back to us. “Holden, it was great to see you in class. We’ve all been praying for you. I’m glad to see you’re on the mend.”
“Thanks. And I’ll be keeping Alexis in my thoughts, Mrs. Nelson.”
Barbara-Jean’s head tilted to the side and a wrinkle appeared between her brows as they knitted together. “Thank you, dear,” she said before heading outside to join her posse. The foursome usually headed over to the Spoon for an early lunch after class.
I slowly turned to face Holden and did my best not to drown in his baby blues staring down at me or fall under the spell of his magnetism. This was the man that had ignored me for years, and even now was continuing to ignore me by not answering the door when I knew he was home. I crossed my arms defensively, trying to protect myself from his all-consuming appeal. It didn’t work.
My entire body was tingled with awareness as I cleared my throat. “I didn’t peg you for a Sunset Bay fan.”
“Sunset Bay?” His brow furrowed. “I’m not.”
“Then what were you talking to Mrs. Nelson about?”
“Her granddaughter Alexis. Before class I overheard that she’s in a coma, she just had a baby, and her husband is cheating on her with the nurse.”
He was keeping such a straight face that I couldn’t tell if he was kiddi
ng or not. When I noted the empathy and concern brimming from his aqua gaze, I knew that I had to set him straight.
I couldn’t help but smile at his naïveté. “Mrs. Nelson’s granddaughter Sasha is on the soap opera Sunset Bay. I don’t watch the show, but I’m guessing that her character Alexis Bloom had a baby, is in a coma, and her husband is cheating on her with a nurse.”
Holden stared at me for a moment before he closed his eyes and his head dropped back. I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up inside of me even as I noticed just how freaking sexy his Adam’s apple was. It didn’t help that it sat dead center of a wide, masculine neck that was framed by a strong stubble-covered jaw.
My palms itched to reach up and touch his face, but I forced myself to fight against the delicious temptation.
When he lifted his head, he wore a wide smile that stole the breath from my lungs. It had been so long since I’d seen him smile like that and I’d forgotten the potency of it.
“You should do that more often.”
“Make an ass of myself?”
“Yes,” I chuckled. “That too. But I was talking about smiling.”
He didn’t take my advice. In fact, he did the opposite. The corners of his lips immediately dropped and I knew that I’d put my foot in my mouth. I hadn’t meant to point it out, it was just that around Holden, I’d never had a filter. I said what was on my mind. It had always been that way.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t,” he cut me off, looking even more serious than he had before.
“Don’t what?” I was starting to feel like everything I said to Holden was wrong. Maybe that was why he’d stopped talking to me in the first place.
“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. Not to me. Ever.”
I sensed a weight to his statement that I didn’t quite understand. What did he mean I didn’t have to apologize to him? There was something I was missing, a piece of the puzzle that I didn’t have. And I was done trying to figure out the riddle that was our relationship without it.
Educating Holden (Wishing Well, Texas Book 11) Page 8
