by Alexis Anne
“And Warrior Two,” the instructor said, the entire class moving in sync to the new position.
I grabbed the towel off my mat and quickly swiped it across my face as I moved from one stance to the next. I could feel Roman’s eyes on me from behind. We’d gotten to the studio early enough to get spots, but late enough that we had to split up. Carrie was one row over and one spot up, while Roman was three rows over and two spots back. Wes was on the other side of the room near the mirrors.
It was actually worse that this happened. If we were able to set up together on this non-double date we would have been side by side. But instead we were scattered and that gave me an excellent vantage point for watching and being watched.
In the two weeks since our night in Vegas we’d managed all of two dinners. The one I brought to his house before I left for Chicago and the one he cooked me when I returned. Carrie took pity on us and suggested a yoga date under the guise of physical therapy.
So here we were, on a non-date, in skintight clothing, sweaty and moving in what I could only describe as yoga foreplay. Oh sure, it was an innocent class filled with clueless bystanders, but the four of us all knew what this really was: sexy as hell.
My shoulders burned as I concentrated on keeping them level, one behind and one pointing forward like an arrow. I loved that yoga was such a different exercise from running and weights. It involved focus and endurance that no other exercise came close to providing. It was what kept my hip from bothering me and it would be so good for Wes and Roman.
“Reverse!”
I straightened my bent front leg and slid my hand down my thigh as I reached my other hand up and over. My shoulders thanked me for finally moving.
“Final Warrior Two. Get ready for your vinyasa!”
I proceeded through the transitional sequence of moves without thinking, just concentrating on the breath and the sweat, pushing myself until I found clarity in the midst of the emotions that seemed to rule my days since Roman walked back into my life.
As I came back to Warrior Two facing the opposite way as before, I locked my gaze on the man in question. He held his arms with confidence and his knee was in the perfect position above his ankle. It didn’t entirely surprise me that he knew what he was doing. When I’d worked with him he’d been open to any and all ideas I’d thrown his way, including making yoga a regular part of his routine.
The studio was warm even though we weren’t in a “hot” class. His shirt was soaked through at the back and armpits and the fabric molded to his powerful shoulders.
How had his injury affected him? Did it still hurt? Could he pitch for fun?
As he reversed and raised his arm above his head I got my answer. He winced and paused before stretching further, his arm not nearly as flexible as anyone else in the room.
He seemed very content with the life that came after baseball, but was there more than passing disappointment simmering beneath the surface? I realized I was curious about digging into the entire process of getting to know Roman and I wasn’t particularly interested in taking it slow. I wanted to know everything about him and I wanted to know it now.
So as the yoga studio emptied at the end of our non-date I made a demand.
“Take me to lunch.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Don’t you have to get to work?”
I shook my head. “It’s a rest day. I don’t have anything on my schedule until late afternoon.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Okay then. Just let me call the office to let them know I’ll be out a little longer.” He stepped away with his phone pressed to his ear.
“Lunch, huh?” Carrie grinned at me. Wes had his arm slung over her shoulder but he wasn’t grinning. He was studying me.
I shrugged. “We’re keeping things quiet, but we’re not in hiding.”
“And only because of you.” Wes said it with a hint of accusation.
So I gave him my full attention. “You got a problem with me?”
His eyes danced. “A little, yeah. I’m not entirely convinced tiptoeing around like you’re ashamed of my best friend sits so well with me.”
“And the two of you aren’t hiding your relationship?” I shot right back for no good reason whatsoever. We were talking about Roman and me, not Wes and Carrie.
To my complete surprise they both burst out into laughter and then Wes grabbed one of the other women in our class. “Hi, yes. Excuse me. I just wanted it to be clear . . . I’m banging her.” He held out his hand to Carrie, who kept on laughing and nodding her head.
The woman looked at us all is if we were from Mars and I didn’t blame her at all.
“Everyone,” Wes said even louder. A few more heads turned our way. “I’m happily banging the best orthopedic surgeon in Tampa Bay, Dr. Carrie Ann Walker!”
“And I’m banging Wes Allen, the catcher for the Jacksonville Waves,” she said between giggles. “And he’s really good in bed!”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay fine. You’ve made your point. I’m the problem. Me and my big crazy fear of World War Three.” Then I stepped into Wes with my finger in his face. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I’m so worried about this because I care about Roman? That I don’t want him to get hurt by being with me?”
Wes grinned. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Then he wrapped me up in the kind of lung-crushing, giant teddy bear hug you can only get from an athlete.
“I can’t breathe!”
He released me with a pat on my head. “You’re going to be fun to have around.”
I wasn’t so sure I liked that idea. At all. “I’m not a puppy, Wes.”
“Still . . . ”
“C’mon. Let these two figure themselves out.” Carrie pulled him away. “You and I have a naked lunch date and then you need to hit the road, lover boy.”
Wes tried to lean toward me as Carrie hauled him away. “Have a fun lunch, June. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“You would do everything, Wes.”
“Exactly!” It was the last thing he said before the doors slammed in his face.
“Do I want to know what that was about?” Roman asked as he slipped his phone into the bag he now had slung over his shoulder.
“Just Wes being Wes.”
“Well everything is set on my end for lunch. Did you have somewhere in mind?” He cocked his head to the side as he studied me.
“There’s a cart about a mile from here. Some of the best Cuban in the city.”
He grinned. “I know exactly where that is.” He held out his hand and froze. “I’m sorry. That was instinct. I in no way meant that you had to hold my hand.”
Except that I wanted to. So I slid my hand inside his. “Let’s go.”
“One car?”
I nodded.
“You sure?”
I shot him a look and he laughed.
“Okay then. May I suggest that I drive? I’ve been wanting to show off my new car.”
“Lead the way.”
It felt weird and wonderful to walk hand in hand—like I was flying and his hand was the only thing keeping me from floating away. My stomach flipped and it was surprisingly hard to keep my breath.
It had been this way in the beginning too, but back then it had been confusing. I’d had spine tingling kisses and giddy feelings around the guys I’d dated, but never anything so overwhelming I couldn’t walk straight. So to have it happen with Public Enemy Number One threw me for a loop. I remembered that even a month later I would still sit, trying to catch my breath after he walked out of the room, and being so angry with myself.
At least now I could accept it for what it was: a genuine connection. My body and my heart didn’t care that Roman’s last name was St. James.
“This is nice,” he said quietly as he pushed open the parking garage door and stood to the side so I could walk in first.
“It is.” I didn’t let go of his hand and he didn’t try to pull away.
He guided me up the stairs to t
he second floor and down the first row where a very shiny silver Shelby Cobra sat. It was an adorable throwback to a time when cars were cool. With only two seats and no top it was definitely a statement.
“Nice ride,” I whistled.
“Thanks. It’s a recent development.”
“You mentioned that.”
He ducked his head. “Well, the car is new to me, but I’ve also discovered a love of classic cars I didn’t know I had.”
Now I understood why he sounded confused by his own car. George was the kind of guy who only drove the latest and greatest car on the market and he expected his son to do the same. I vaguely remembered a BMW getting traded in for a Ferrari and there being a tense battle between father and son over the reasons. Roman had liked his BMW but George liked the way the red Ferrari looked.
You know, serious problems.
“I like it. It’s you. Classic and expensive.”
He laughed and frowned at the same time. “I’m pretty sure there was an insult in there somewhere.”
“Not really. It’s just who you are. You grew up with money but you have a classic taste that you can actually afford to indulge. That’s all.”
He squeezed my hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t want to let go of your hand.”
My breath caught. “Why?”
“I’m afraid I’ll never get to hold it again.”
I bit my lip and smiled up at him. “What if I promise to let you hold my hand whenever you want for the rest of the day?”
He let his breath out in a long slow sigh. “Well, then I guess we won’t starve.” With one last squeeze he released my hand and opened the trunk so we could stow our mats. Then he opened my door and waited for me to get comfortable before he carefully shut it.
The engine roared to life and a huge smile lit up Roman’s face as he put the car into reverse. As we exited the garage, the sun hit my skin at the same moment the wind whipped through my hair. It was a gorgeous day to be outside.
Two minutes later we parked in the tiny gravel lot beside The Cubanito. It wasn’t a food truck—it had been around far longer than that fad—but it was mobile as much as it was a permanent fixture. You couldn’t find it on a map and it barely had a Facebook page, but locals knew it was the best.
“Grab that table. I’ll get the food. What do you want?” He shoved me toward the two vacant plastic chairs.
“A Cuban. And don’t forget the plantains!”
He waved off my attempt to hand him money and got in line. I slid out of my flip-flops and propped my feet up on the other chair so I could lean back and look up at the crystal clear blue skies. It wouldn’t last much longer. Soon big white puffy cumulus clouds would build like mountains until they were dark and heavy, bursting open for a quick and violent afternoon thunderstorm.
There were only five little tables haphazardly set up around the open lot. It was busy enough that I got to eavesdrop on two different conversations. One was two retired women admiring Roman’s ass, which was beyond hilarious to overhear. “I bet he works out every day. He could work out on me everyday.”
I smiled.
On my other side were two men on a lunch break from an architectural firm. They didn’t seem to like their boss and were both looking for new jobs.
I frowned.
“Turn that frown upside down, beautiful.” Roman set two baskets on the plastic table between us, then two bottles of water. “I hope you’re not thinking about us right now.”
“No.” I sat up and grabbed a curly plantain. “Life.”
“Heavy.”
We ate in silence for a few moments, which was nice since I was suddenly starving now that food was in front of me. Unfortunately the silence also gave me a few moments to realize what we were doing. We were on a date. In public.
The silence stretched until Roman tossed his napkin into his basket and leaned back in this chair, hands folded behind his head as he stretched. “This is nice.”
A beautiful afternoon, good food, and good company? Nice was an understatement. Most people dreamed of having moments like this and I was not going to waste it.
Even if I was nervous as hell.
“Thank you for lunch.”
He turned his head to look at me. “Why did you take my hand? I mean, anyone walking by would think we were together and, well . . . ” He let his voice drop away instead of asking the question he obviously wanted to ask.
My heart skipped a beat, then another, and I had to force myself to take a breath. “Because I wanted to.” I searched his beautiful eyes and all I found was a completely open man hoping for more. So I dove in. “I’ve come to realize I want to date you just like I would any other guy I met, liked, and had this level of chemistry with.”
“But it doesn’t change who we are.”
“No,” I shook my head. “But it does change me. I was scared before, Roman. That’s why I wanted to keep things quiet. I was so concerned with what might happen that I was missing the point.”
“And what’s the point?”
I smiled. “To catch up with you. To,” I glanced around at the trees and the sky as I searched for a way to say what I was feeling, “to find out if this is the real deal, and I can’t possibly learn that if I’m spending my time worrying and hiding. We need to be real. We need to be a couple—just not one that goes to the same events as the people we work with.”
“So holding hands after coffee or at lunch is okay?”
“Yes.”
“What about dinner at this horrible little dive near my condo?”
I thought about it for a minute then nodded. “Yes. I think that would be perfect.”
His eyes lit up with a mischievous glint and he bounced his eyebrows. “And what if I kiss you afterward?”
My cheeks burned. “I think that might be okay too. Especially if you hold my hand at the same time.”
He swallowed slowly, his gaze dropping to my lips. “I think that can be arranged. Tonight even.”
“Will you take me back to your place afterward?”
“Oh yes.” His voice was deeper now. Gravelly.
We were veering dangerously off course so I steered us back toward the whole point of the conversation. “I’m not someone who lets fear control me very often. It’s not a feeling I like. From here on out I’m going to make decisions based on my hopes for our future instead of my fear of the repercussions.” For better or worse.
And I was absolutely positive there was going to be some painful worse in our future.
But there might also be some pretty spectacular better.
“I love this,” he said, cupping my cheek.
“Then, if you don’t mind,” I murmured, “I’d like to pretend I’m a regular girl who just happened to sit down beside a very sexy guy at lunch.”
His eyes lit up but he didn’t move his hand from my cheek. Instead he ran his thumb across my skin sending tingles straight to my heart. “There’s nothing regular about you June Daniels.” Then he lightly brushed his lips against mine before sitting back in his plastic chair with a mischievous smile on his face. “It’s a perfect day to eat outside, don’t you think, Beautiful?”
The strangest sense of hope filled my chest. “Beautiful?”
“Well, I don’t know your name and you are beautiful, just like this day, so I thought it was good place to start.” He reached his hand over the table. “I’m Roman, by the way.”
I took it slowly, knowing that even though this was an act, it was a very real beginning to something brand new. “I’m June.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Like June Carter Cash or the month in summer?”
I was named after my great grandmother. Roman knew that. “I’m named after the singer.”
His grin widened at my obvious act. “Well damn, I wish my name was Johnny right now.”
“You don’t like Roman? It’s very Days of Our Lives.” I knew he was named after Cecil’s favorite c
ity and that his mother couldn’t stand frivolous things like daytime soap operas.
“No, because if I was Johnny and you were June we could make some beautiful music together.”
“Are you always this cheesy?” I laughed. Roman was never cheesy when I knew him before.
“Cheesy?” He leaned back in his chair again, smiling up at the sky. “Johnny and June made some of the most iconic music in American history. We could be iconic if you’d give me a chance.”
“I didn’t realize you’d asked for one.” I sat back in my chair and looked up, too. The wind picked up my hair and tossed it around.
“I guess I haven’t. Not yet.” And then he winked.
“Yet?” I liked this new, sillier side.
“Well let’s see . . . where are you from, June?”
“Captiva Island.”
He whistled low. “Swanky. So you’re a beach bunny?”
“I love the beach. I’m not a bunny.”
“Can you surf?”
“Not particularly. There are no waves on the Gulf.”
He nodded, thinking. “Coke or Pepsi?”
“Dr. Pepper.”
“Good answer.”
“My turn. Star Trek or Star Wars?” I honestly didn’t know the answer to this question and I liked that we were doing something completely different.
“Star Wars. No question.”
Interesting. “Okay then, bonus question. Favorite episode.”
He paused and turned his head to look at me. “No judgment?”
I held up my hands. “As long as we’re talking original trilogy you’ll get no judgment from me.”
“Return of the Jedi.”
“Really? I would have a thought a tough-looking guy like you would be A New Hope kind of guy.”
“Nah. It’s kind of boring. But Jedi has it all. It’s a good flick.”
“Agreed.” I smiled because the banter was so natural.
“So is it your favorite?”
“Second favorite. Empire’s my favorite.”
He nodded slowly. “You like the scene when she’s says ‘I love you’ and he says ‘I know’, don’t you?”
I shook my head. “That’s not why, although that is one of my favorites.”