Olive claps gleefully. “See? You’ve already impressed them.”
I fix on a big grin, grateful the client is happy, even though my silly heart already wrote a reunion scene for Harlan and myself at the end of the season. Best to get my red pen out and slash that possibility. Perhaps that’s the sign. The universe is slamming the brakes on my hopes. The universe knows I was going too fast.
Fair enough. Message received.
“And the Dragons would be a huge coup,” Olive puts in. “I would love to add them to our client list.”
My business brain snaps me back to the deal-celebrating moment. “Absolutely. You’re going to get us deals with all the major sports. This could be huge expansion-wise,” I say, imagining our potential if we add a pro baseball team to our list of corporate clients.
That’s where it’s best to focus. Not on my Prince Charming fantasies. Besides, I learned the hard way where too much attention on a man can lead. Especially a man you don’t know really well.
“Just keep being an awesome yoga empress, Katie. And I’ll keep getting the deals. You make it easy,” Zachary says.
The three of us toast again, then order appetizers and brainstorm the next steps for the business.
When the meal is over, we say goodnight to Zachary, and Olive and I wander through Hayes Valley to our favorite ice cream shop.
Which makes me think of Harlan and our Sexual Tension Swirl ice cream.
Which makes me miss him.
Which makes me wish our timing was a little better.
Damn.
I sigh in the San Francisco November air, the fall breeze whisking by us.
“Hey,” Olive says, linking her arm with mine. “How do you feel about this partnership? Are you truly okay with it?”
I whip my gaze to my mind-reader of a sister. “Was it that obvious?”
“Obvious that you were thinking about your guy who got away? Yeah,” she says, with a bob of her shoulder. “I can kinda read you. Sister intuition.”
If only she’d seen me yesterday when I lost my mind over Harlan’s big play in the Seattle game. She wouldn’t have needed intuition, that’s for sure. But she was doing a long bike ride in wine country to prep for a charity century ride, and now’s the first time we’ve had a chance to truly connect.
“To answer your question, I’m all good with the partnership. It’s huge for us, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. And it’s already leading to more. But I feel bad for you that you had to cut off your thing with him. That’s why you asked about timing, right? To see if the contract would end at the end of the season?”
Way to read me like a book.
I scoff like it’s no big deal. “We barely even had a thing. It’s fine,” I say, as we bound up the steps to the ice cream shop. “And this is for the best.”
She arches a questioning brow, her piercing blue eyes boring into mine. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I say with more conviction than I feel. Whatever was brewing with Harlan was more than a thing. But I don’t want to ruin Sassy Yoga’s expansion plans on account of my romantic interests. I already had to clean up a wedding that went bust. Kick my ex-fiancé out of my apartment. Get rid of his stuff. Return countless gifts. It was a man exorcism, and I don’t want to go through anything remotely similar again. Getting involved with a client, and then Roomba-ing my business life would be even messier, and that’s saying something.
Best to let those romantic hopes go. “We didn’t truly have a date, so what am I even giving up?”
Just the best chance I’ve had in ages.
That’s all.
We head inside and order ice cream.
A consolation prize.
17
Katie
The next day, I work with the team at the training facility. A cornerback grumbles as I lead fifty-three men through the lizard pose. As we move into triangle, cat, then cow poses, some of the linemen shoot me dubious looks.
But I’m used to it and the skepticism doesn’t bother me.
Plus, I try to meet them on their terms.
Competitive terms.
Saying things like: Bet this helps you protect the quarterback more, bet this will help you evade the secondary, bet you’ll dodge and dart past linemen faster.
And the handy caveat that motivates most athletes—bet this helps your . . . stamina.
Lacey weighs in from her post at the back of the exercise room where she watches over the class. “We all love stamina,” she says.
“Hey, Lacey. Why aren’t you doing all the yoga poses?” The question comes from Erick, the backup quarterback, and it sounds like he wants to see Lacey on all fours.
“Same reason I don’t get into the huddle on Sundays. I’m, wait for it, not on the roster.” She’s all deadpan and fabulous with her comeback. I kind of love her.
“C’mon. If we have to do this, you should too,” Erick shouts.
With his bare foot tucked against his calf, Harlan calls out to Erick. “Yes, that’s logical, Erick. Completely logical,” he says.
“Who said anything about logic?” Erick quips.
I cut in before the place turns into more of a zoo. “The tree pose is one of the best things you can do for your balance, and I suspect balance matters just a little bit out there on the field. Harlan, you’re doing a great job with the tree pose,” I say, gesturing to the receiver who’s mastering the poses in no time.
“Ooh, Harlan, teacher has a crush on you,” Erick catcalls.
My cheeks redden. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to single out the guy I’m into.
Smooth move, Katie.
“Let’s keep things professional,” Lacey cuts in.
The reminder is useful for me too. I step away from Harlan and move over to Cooper, who’s also looking pretty damn good as he holds the pose. “Your quarterback does an excellent flamingo impression,” I say, using him as my example instead.
Because I’m not here to focus on only one guy.
I’m here because it’s my job.
A booming voice carries from the doorway. “Looking good, men.”
I whip my gaze in that direction, where the head coach surveys the guys. It’s Coach Greenhaven, one of the best in the NFL, a man both feared and revered. “Keep up the good work,” he says to his team.
The men all stretch a little deeper, hold a little longer for him.
When the class ends a minute later, the guys filter out, but Lacey and the head coach stay behind.
Then, his intense eyes land on me. “Lacey says you’re making an impact.”
I stand taller, enjoying his praise. It’s not often the head coach of a Super Bowl-winning team doles out praise for me. More like, well, never. “It’s early days, but I hope so,” I say.
“Good. Just don’t go work for the Hawks now,” he says drily.
I smile. “I promise to stay away from your local rivals.”
“That’s all I can ask for,” he says, then strolls out.
Lacey’s eyes shine. “He’s not easily impressed.”
That’s a damn good thing for Sassy Yoga, and that’s why I’m here.