Breathless (Yoga in the City Book 1)

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Breathless (Yoga in the City Book 1) Page 8

by Leigh LaValle


  “But what?”

  I closed my eyes. I needed to fess up to someone. “He’s my sexy mountain man.”

  “Who?”

  I took a deep breath and looked at her. Trusted her. “The guy who helped me a few weeks ago? The one who carried me when I sprained my ankle? It was Jake.”

  “What?” Crystal screeched, scaring a flock of little birds into flight. “Of course! Jake the mountain man! Why didn’t you tell us?” she shouted.

  “Shh.” I glanced down the trail, but he was out of sight. “I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t date him.”

  “Why in the world not?”

  “He owns our building.”

  “He does? Himself?”

  “Well, his company does.”

  She put her hands on her hips, not impressed. “And the other reason?”

  “He’s some kind of golden-boy jock. Jessica was totally flirting with him in class this week. What am I going to do with a guy like that?”

  “Uh, I can think of a few things.” She elbowed me playfully.

  But I didn’t feel playful. I felt frustrated. “He’s way too hot for me.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I can’t even open my mouth without sounding ridiculous.”

  “It didn’t seem to bother him.” She put her hand on my arm. “What is it really, Hannah?”

  She wasn’t going to let this one go. I already regretted telling her the truth. It was easier to hide from yourself when you didn’t have girlfriends asking questions.

  “I’m taking a break from men,” I grumbled.

  “Since when?”

  “Since fifteen months ago.”

  She raised her brow.

  “My last relationship didn’t end well.” To put it mildly.

  “I don’t know, chica.” She clucked. “Sounds like fear to me.”

  “It totally is fear, and I own that. Charming men are my kryptonite.”

  “Well, as Rumi said, the cure for pain is in the pain.”

  “Maybe.” I scuffed my foot in the dirt. Could she be right? Could Jake be just what I needed to get over my fear? “But I have to find myself before I date again.”

  “Find yourself? Where did you go?”

  “Ha-ha,” I replied dryly. “I’d think you of all people would understand what I mean.”

  Crystal sighed. “I’ll let you off the hook for now. But not for long.”

  Jake was gone when we got back to the trailhead.

  Despite what I said, I couldn’t wait for Monday morning, when I could see him again.

  Chapter 6

  Jake

  Music thumping, my best pencils sharpened, large paper lining the surface of my desk, I raced to get my ideas on the Carter project down. Rough sketches lined the floor as I finished one idea and moved on to the next.

  I fucking loved this job.

  I loved this project. A green build using reclaimed wood and steel, ambient light, passive solar… Somebody’s home. Not just a vacation house, a real home.

  When I drew, I went big. The hard beat of Metallica drove me as I played with the angles of the front entryway. It would be north facing, allowing the livable parts of the house southern exposure.

  I switched from a pencil to a small brush, creating deeper angles and lines for shadows. My wrist etched out broad strokes, and I felt that zing. That place where my blood moved and my hand drew and I knew form and balance on the page.

  My door opened.

  “Will you turn that down?” Brian crossed my office and switched off my speaker. Then he came and stood behind my shoulder. “The Carter house?”

  “Yeah. I think the roof angle should be amended.” I pointed to the entryway I’d just drawn. “And somewhere in here”—I toed through the piles of paper on the floor—“is the back, where the kitchen and deck will be. There should be a moveable wall, like a steel-and-glass garage door, that they can open. The kitchen will flow seamlessly onto the deck as one space in the warm weather.”

  “These are good.” He scanned the drafts, then popped his head back into the hallway. “Pricilla, can you come in here and make some sense of this mess?”

  My long-suffering administrative associate, Pricilla, who I shared with Samantha and Holly across the hall, hurried in and picked up the papers from the floor.

  “I can do it.” I bent down but Brian said, “No, come sit with me.”

  I sent her an apologetic grimace, but she just smiled. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this for me.

  “Why are you thinking of amending the roof?” Brian was the engine behind the business.

  “It’ll collect rainfall and snowmelt on the northeast corner, which can be pumped to the back pond for irrigation use.”

  “Will it really be that much water?”

  “Could be. It’s a big roof.”

  He nodded. “It’s good you got these done. We’re getting off track with the Turner-Smythe building and the new office.”

  “The Carter project is awesome. I’m happy to work on it.”

  “They have the kind of capitol to make this house really stand out. I can see more architectural awards for you. Magazine placements and out-of-state referrals. It’s a big deal.”

  I was charged up about the project. But I wouldn’t be around long enough to complete it. I hadn’t reminded Brian of that fact. I hoped my designs would be enough. He could oversee the actual build himself. I was disappointed to leave—this was a dream project—but I’d get over it. Alaska was bigger than me and what I wanted.

  Brian’s assistant, Kevin, knocked on my door.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, his eyes flicking toward Pricilla, who was still on the floor organizing papers.

  Brian frowned. “Can it wait?”

  “Actually, I’m here for Jake. The VFW called your private line, Brian, hoping you would track Jake down.”

  I sat back and rubbed a hand over my face. Not this again.

  “The VFW?” Brian asked.

  “The Veterans of Foreign Wars,” Kevin answered.

  “I know who they are. Why are they calling my private line?”

  “Because Jake won’t return their calls, I believe.”

  “I returned their calls.” I rubbed the back of my neck, annoyed. “They just didn’t like my answer.”

  Brian frowned harder. “About what?” Ignorance drove him crazy—he was a total control freak.

  I slashed my hand through the air. You tell him, Kevin.

  “According to a”—Kevin glanced down at the note in his hand—“Mr. Bremmer, they have invited Jake to participate in a memorial event. They are doing a fundraiser with Homes for Our Troops.”

  Brian flicked a glance at me. Usually he would say something caustic, like and this is important because…, but even he wouldn’t joke about the VFW. I wished he would. I wished everyone would stop tiptoeing around the whole thing. I wished they would treat it as normal.

  Kevin shifted on his feet in the doorway. “They’ve invited Jake to give a speech. He has declined.”

  “Three times,” I muttered. “This will be the fourth.”

  Brian grunted something.

  “You can tell them ‘no’ for me, Kevin. Or Pricilla can. Please. And thank you.”

  Brian threw up a hand. “Wait. Maybe you should do this.”

  Hell, no. “Why? I can’t see how it will generate more business.”

  “Not everything is about business.”

  All three of us—Kevin, Pricilla, and I—stopped and stared.

  “You feeling okay, cousin?” I had a guess where he was going with this, and I didn’t like it. I got up from my seat. “I need to work on these designs.”

  Brian motioned for Kevin and Priscilla to leave us.

  I was screwed.

  He turned to me when the door was closed. “What’s the big deal, Jake? It’s just a speech. You’re some kind of hero around here, God knows why.” He smirked. “Ma
ybe it would help.”

  “What are you, my shrink?”

  “God, no.”

  “Then don’t get involved.”

  He scowled. “It’s been five years—”

  “You keeping a calendar on me?”

  “Shut up for a second. They probably feel like they need to do something. For the O’Donnells.”

  The name was like a punch to the gut, even after all this time. A band tightened around my lungs.

  “I read…” he continued, unusually hesitant. “Isn’t there going to be a statue? In front of the courthouse?”

  I focused on oxygen. I could have been at twenty thousand feet.

  “Is that all?” I was being a dick, but I didn’t care.

  “Do the speech.” Brian stormed across my office and slammed my door on his way out.

  I went to the window in my office, but it didn’t open. I hated this fucking window. I loosened my tie and left my office. I pushed my way into the break room, then onto the patio outside.

  The fresh air was sweet in my lungs.

  The sky overhead was endless.

  The VFW.

  Five years.

  Some speech about what? Being blown up? Watching my friends die? No way.

  No fucking way.

  I wasn’t going to stand around and talk about the war, or our injuries, or IEDs. About how hard it was to get back into civilian life. About the ones we’d lost.

  Those who came back were supposed to remember. And I did remember. All the fucking time. Cody was still my best friend. I thought about what he would be doing now if he wasn’t dead. I saw a hot blonde, and I thought “Now Cody would like that one.” I heard a funny joke, and I wanted to tell him.

  I remembered.

  But I wasn’t going to do it on stage.

  I’d rather just give the VFW a check. A chunk of cash to help other vets who had it worse than me.

  I was no poster boy. I wasn’t the face of success. I was fucked up and just trying to survive the best I could.

  I pushed it all out, the knot in my belly, the twist in my chest. I pushed it all out until it fell off the edge of the fucking earth. Until it was just open sky.

  No weakness.

  Then I made my way to Van’s cubicle. He looked up when I rapped on the wall. “Pyramid Peak next weekend? We could do the Keyhole Route.”

  “The Elk Mountains.” Van’s eyes lit up. “Count me in.”

  I gave him a thumbs-up. Van had been a great climbing partner the last few years. He kept to himself. He was strong, smart, and alert to safety. And he didn’t talk.

  Then I headed back to my office to finish the designs for the Carter project. One thing to cross off my list before Alaska.

  A few hours later, I pulled up in front of the Turner-Smythe building. I had to check on the crew, see what progress they’d made, and what we needed to focus on the next day.

  “Oh-ho, Mr. Big Man is here,” Harrison called.

  I straightened my tie and flipped him off.

  “Hey, Boss. Nice threads. Don’t touch anything, or you might break a nail.”

  “Come to find a big tool to play with?”

  “Can it,” I grumbled. “Everything okay today?”

  “Right on schedule.” Mike scrubbed his hands on a rag and fell into step beside me.

  “Great.” I grabbed my hat from my truck. I didn’t see Hannah’s car or bike, but I stopped to look in the yoga studio window.

  She was there.

  Standing behind the front desk, working on the computer, her head bent down. She looked soft—the wild curl to her hair, the tanned skin on her shoulders, the way she stood with one hip cocked to the side—soft and touchable.

  Hannah glanced up, and our eyes locked. A zing ran up my spine. Power pumped through me.

  I smiled, long and slow, just like I was going to make love to her.

  She gave me a little wave, and I nodded back. The guys were waiting, so I walked on.

  Twenty minutes later, I was satisfied the day had gone well on the job. Hannah was leaving. Locking the door behind her. I told the guys to call it a day, then intersected her path.

  “Hannah.”

  “Jake.”

  “Hi.”

  Her lips drew back with a sexy tilt at the edges. Her brown eyes were warm. “Hi.”

  “Any problems with the construction today?”

  Her face fell a bit. “Um, it was a little noisy, but not as bad as last week. I only had one class. I’ll have to ask Crystal how bad it was for her.”

  It’s never bad with me, girl.

  “You weren’t here today.” She blushed. “I mean, not that I noticed. I see you around, of course, but it’s not like I was looking for you. And, obviously, you weren’t here, because you’re wearing a tie.”

  I grinned and tucked a curl behind her ear. It didn’t stay, but that was never the point. I just wanted to touch her. “Sadly, I was at the office this morning.”

  “Oh?” She was breathing fast now. “Making all the big decisions at the big important meetings?”

  “Something like that.” Her lips would be soft and warm. Her mouth hot.

  “Is it weird to have two jobs? I mean the office and the construction job?”

  “Not really. It keeps me from getting bored.”

  She swallowed. “So, do you, like, draw stuff?”

  “Yeah, I draw stuff.” I liked her flustered. It was so damn cute. “Along with boring tasks like managing specs and timelines.”

  “What’s your favorite part of it all?”

  That was easy. “Drawing up the plans for a project and then managing the build site. It’s awesome to see an idea move from my head, to my hand, to wood and nails.”

  She waved her hand behind her. “Did you do this building? Design it, I mean?”

  “Parts of it. I worked with my cousin on this one.” I looked up at the Turner-Smythe building. When I got back from Alaska, it would be finished. My office would be set up upstairs. “But I’m never in town long enough to complete both phases of a project.”

  She shifted on her feet. “I used to move around a lot. It has its flaws.”

  I kept my gaze on the building. This was more talking than I’d done all week. But chicks liked that stuff. Sharing and all that. “I don’t move, per se. I just…leave.”

  “For the mountains?”

  “For the mountains.”

  A group of high school kids drove by, windows open and music blaring. Enjoying the spring weather.

  I glanced down at Hannah. She was looking at me, nibbling her lower lip between her teeth.

  “It was funny to bump into you on the trail Friday,” she said. Her lip was moist and red now. I wanted to bite it. “Did you have a good run?”

  “Sure.” Truthfully, I’d overdone it. Fifteen miles on uneven, rocky terrain was too much, and I’d paid for it all weekend. “It’s always the downhill that gets me. Did you have a good weekend?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “Any hot dates?”

  “No.” She huffed a laugh. “Just me, myself, and I.”

  “A three-way I could get in the middle of.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “You’re impossible.”

  “I’m hopeless.”

  “I’m sure there are any number of women in Boulder who would be happy to date you.”

  “But I only want one. And she keeps saying no.” I stepped toward her so we were almost touching. Her eyes widened. “Do you have any advice for me, Hannah, on how I could win her over? She’s funny and quirky and sweet, and I just want to get to know her better.”

  “I don’t know. I think she’s trying to keep things clean and not date where she works.” She let out a heavy breath. “But she definitely thinks you’re hot. Especially in that tie.”

  Yes. Triumph surged through me. I stepped closer, crowding her space. “Does she now?”

  Her gaze met mine. If I leaned down I could kiss her. But something passed over her fa
ce—fear? Hesitation?—and I stepped back.

  She swallowed. “Um. Wow. Okay. Right. Bye.”

  She waved and backed away at the same time, bumped into a bike leaning against the bike rack, and knocked it over. She straightened the bike, adamantly not looking at me, and hurried down the block.

  I grinned the whole time.

  Chapter 7

  Hannah

  I went home and did the one thing any hot-blooded female would do—I drew a bubble bath and dreamed about Jake Marshall. About his strong arms and his sharp jaw and his eyes and his kisses. I thought about going on a date with him, and what I would wear, and what he would do. To me.

  Then I dried off and pulled out my journal to write a new list.

  Top Ten Reasons I Shall NOT Date Jake Marshall:

  He’s way too hot for me

  He’s my landlord

  He has power over my business and finances (see #2)

  I need to find myself before I can get involved again

  He tilts the axis of my world

  He’s leaving soon

  He’s a jock and a charmer

  I need to focus on Bloom

  I am in over my head just being near him

  He seems too perfect, which means there are some ugly skeletons hiding

  Dating is hard work, and I’ve got a lot on my plate

  I need to focus on my career right now

  I want my decisions to be my own

  I need to get on my own path before I get sucked onto his

  When I fall, I fall hard (and I want to do it right, when I choose to do it)

  I’d found fifteen reasons not to date Jake without even trying. I was being smart, not dating when I wasn’t ready, and when I didn’t have time.

  But then, the next day at work, I watched him. I stood at the front desk in the studio and followed him with my eyes. Jake McHotty-pants. He was a beautiful specimen of a man, and I could stare at him all day.

  But I didn’t talk to him again until two days later. I was teaching my Thursday morning hatha flow class, really getting into the groove with handstands, when the construction noise started. First a piercing sawing, then banging, then more sawing. The noise cut through the room like a laser, destroying any sense of peace or serenity we’d created.

 

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