* * *
Harlan: Ha. Me too. And trying new boba shops is fun.
We text back and forth, picking a location for sushi as the car zips through the city.
“Almost there, Miss Madigan,” Saul calls out.
“Thank you for the heads up,” I say, but I don’t glance away from my phone because talking to Harlan is too fun.
Harlan: Fair warning. I plan on kissing the breath out of you as soon as I see you tonight. Miss those lips of yours, sweetheart.
My stomach flips. Warmth winds through me.
Katie: I definitely volunteer as tribute for that.
* * *
Harlan: Excellent. Now, I need to turn my phone off. We have game film today, and my Lyft just dropped me off at the training facility.
* * *
Katie: We just drove past the stadium. Have fun!
Only, instead of going by the stadium, Saul pulls into the parking lot behind it. That’s odd. Why are we here?
But Saul doesn’t know. The email says to go to the South Entrance of Wilder Enterprises, so I do, even though it looks suspiciously like the training facility for the San Francisco Renegades.
Before I can knock on the door, it swings open, and a woman greets me. She’s petite and peppy, full of energy. “I’m Lacey, and we’re excited to have you here. Your online video on how to balance a crow pose in ten days? Changed. My. Life.” The tiny brunette brims with enthusiasm as she escorts me to an exercise room. I quickly get the room set up with mats and Lacey turns to me and says, “And here is our Super Bowl-winning team.”
My head spins.
No effing way.
My new client is the San Francisco Renegades.
Which means I’ll be teaching downward-facing dog to my date.
14
Harlan
Coach Greenhaven clicks off the big screen, takes a deep breath, then says to the team, “And that’s what you need to know about the Seattle secondary. They are as ruthless as Baltimore’s.”
“My right thigh will vouch for Baltimore,” I say, patting my leg. A collision with that team’s cornerback last month led to a strained hamstring, but thankfully, it didn’t put me out of commission.
With a stern look in his gray eyes, the head coach turns his gaze to me then nods to the rest of the 53-man roster, parked in leather chairs scattered around the room. “And that’s why I took Harlan out of the last game there at the end. Don’t want that thigh to turn into an injury for him and if anyone else sustained a similar injury, I’d do the same.” Coach takes a beat, surveys the team. “And that’s also why we’re implementing some new protocols. Our team trainers are on top of the latest sports medicine research and exercise. Studies have shown that athletes heal faster from injuries and have fewer injuries too if they practice yoga regularly.”
I sit up straighter, my interest piqued by the mention of yoga. Katie’s profession. Maybe I’ll learn an interesting tidbit to share with her tonight. Bet she’d dig that.
“It improves strength, balance, and flexibility, and it’s proven to help top athletes speed up their recovery time and stay off the injured list. Something you all want to do, I presume?”
Nods and grunts of agreement echo in the spacious room. I sit on the edge of my chair, eager for more info.
“And starting today, you’ll all be taking yoga classes,” he says.
Some of the noises of agreement become groans and whines.
I turn around, giving the guys a c’mon look. “You all just said you wanted fewer injuries. Now you don’t want to do yoga? Man up, Renegades.”
“Yoga is for girls,” someone mutters.
“Yoga won’t help me tackle.”
“Yoga is weird.”
I roll my eyes. “You wish you played as well as a girl.” I will defend girls till my dying day.
Probably from the grave too.
Coach lifts his hands to settle down the naysayers. “Enough. You’re doing yoga from now until the end of the season. No griping. You want a nice, long, healthy career? You’ll practice warrior pose, tree pose, and whatever else the teacher says. This is not optional, Renegades. This concludes the meeting.” He points to the door. “Head to Exercise Room Three and get into child’s pose. Which ought to come easy to some of you.”
Oh, this is even better. I’ll have so much juicy goodness to share with Katie tonight.
I head out of the film room with Cooper. “I love yoga,” he says. “Violet took me to a class last year, and it was awesome.”
“So, you did do a workout date,” I say as we stroll down the corridor.
He scratches his jaw, seems to consider this. “Huh. I guess that was a workout date. Damn good one too. Guess Jason is onto something.”
“Seems he is, but I’m still opting for dinner and foosball tonight instead,” I say, as we near the exercise room. But I switch gears away from dating as I point to my hamstring, nerves in my voice. “I could use something to help with this old leg here. I don’t want to pull a muscle and be out of commission.”
Maybe yoga will be my savior. Maybe it’ll help keep me at the top of my game in this critical season.
Critical, as I figure out what the hell to do with my football future.
Cooper claps me on the back. “Dude, I need you on the field. You’re one of my favorite targets.”
“And I want to keep being one,” I say, intensely. Since that’s the goal, no matter what. I still don’t know what happens at the end of the season. But whether this is my final year or whether I try to get an epic deal in free agency, the last thing I want is to be down for the count. At all.
Stats, games, and playing ball—that’s what I want to do.
I draw a soldiering breath, point to the door and the room beyond. Ready to handle whatever the team throws at us. “If yoga helps me, I will be Namaste-ing day and—”
I stop in the doorway.
Whoa.
A smile spreads at the gorgeous sight.
Who knew I’d be getting an early preview of my date tonight? She’s the last person I expect to see, but damn, it is good to set eyes on Katie.
Lucky me to get a sneak peek.
Except.
Wait.
Hold on.
What the hell is she doing here in the exercise room? With mats spread out on the floor, and yoga straps and stuff?
Plus, she’s in her yoga clothes, and she’s talking to Lacey, one of the team trainers.
Well, shit.
The answer comes in a flash, and it sucks.
She can’t be our new yoga teacher.
And yet, I’m sure she is.
I groan inside. Pretty sure, too, that a date with Katie will violate the team’s no fraternization policy—no dates or hookups with personnel like team trainers, team docs, team managers, or team anythings.
Katie swings her gaze to me. For a fraction of a second, her eyes flicker with excitement, but resignation quickly replaces it.
Frustration swirls in my gut. I try not to let things get me down, but I am more than bummed.
I am seriously disappointed.