kidding. Even if you do fall in, this is a shallow section of river. You’re more likely to drown in your bathtub.”
“Given the amount of mold on my shower curtain, I’m probably more likely to get algae wrapped around my ankle there, too.”
“I didn’t need to know that.” She reached over to help with a tangled strap on his floatation device, shivering with pleasure as his fingers brushed hers. “Seriously though, it’s brave of you to give the combo yoga/paddleboard lessons a try. Most people who haven’t been practicing yoga awhile are nervous about trying it on a wobbly paddleboard in the middle of a frigid river.”
“I’m a big believer in the value of new experiences.”
“That’s—admirable,” Cami replied, mentally replacing admirable with terrifying .
Paul shrugged and took hold of the paddle, his hand impressively large around the shaft of it. He smiled, and Cami felt her insides do a pleasant twist.
“At worst, I fall in,” he said. “Nothing wrong with getting a little wet, right?”
Cami bit her lip. “Nothing wrong with it at all,” she said, and turned to hide her flaming face.
…
Jesus, could you be a bigger tool?
It wasn’t the first time Paul had scolded himself for putting his foot in his mouth, but it was the first time in years he’d cared about looking dumb with shoelaces dangling from his lips.
First you do your food-geek recitation of a dinner menu, then you discuss her age and attractiveness, then you mention your disgusting bathroom, then you talk dirty. You know how to impress a woman.
Paul sighed and tried hard to focus on the lesson Cami was giving. He couldn’t believe he’d decided to do this. It had been a spur-of-the moment idea, prompted mostly by the ridiculous crush he’d developed on her in the two months he’d been taking her group yoga classes.
Okay, that wasn’t the only thing that prompted it. There was also the sour look on his brother’s face when Paul shared his cholesterol score.
“You should pay attention to these numbers,” Evan had said, smacking the paper with the back of his hand.
“I am paying attention. I’m giving them to my big brother, the doctor.”
“That’s not enough. You aren’t eighteen anymore. You’ve gotta stop eating like you are.”
“But I’m a chef,” Paul tried to argue. “I get paid to eat. Unless you know of any openings for highly-paid porn stars, this is really the next best thing.”
Evan had rolled his eyes. “You’re going to be an unhealthy chef if you don’t knock it off. Dad died young of a heart attack, remember?”
Paul frowned. “Of course I remember.”
“Do you know what poor blood pressure can do to a man’s virility?” Evan asked. “The corpora cavernosa in the shaft of the penis are responsible for erections, and high blood flow can keep arteries from dilating, which leads to—”
“Christ, dude—I’m not even thirty, and my weight and my cholesterol scores are still within normal range. You’re just trying to get my attention with boner scare tactics, aren’t you?”
“It’s working, right?”
Yeah, it was. Paul was pretty sure he’d prefer the heart attack over erectile dysfunction, but neither sounded fun. Not that he’d had much sex—or any sex—since moving to Bend six months ago, but he had hope. There were beautiful women everywhere, including his smart, funny, breathtakingly lovely fitness instructor.
Of course, he hadn’t had the balls to talk to her in the two months he’d taken her group classes.
All the more reason to try a private lesson.
The other students had been talking for months about Cami’s private yoga paddleboard lessons. Great for core strength, they’d insisted. Terrific way to do toning and cardio at the same time.
Paul had been intrigued, not just by the unique nature of the classes, but by the opportunity to talk to Cami one-on-one. To hear more of her easy laugh and watch the way her eyes lit up as she explained a new
“Given the amount of mold on my shower curtain, I’m probably more likely to get algae wrapped around my ankle there, too.”
“I didn’t need to know that.” She reached over to help with a tangled strap on his floatation device, shivering with pleasure as his fingers brushed hers. “Seriously though, it’s brave of you to give the combo yoga/paddleboard lessons a try. Most people who haven’t been practicing yoga awhile are nervous about trying it on a wobbly paddleboard in the middle of a frigid river.”
“I’m a big believer in the value of new experiences.”
“That’s—admirable,” Cami replied, mentally replacing admirable with terrifying .
Paul shrugged and took hold of the paddle, his hand impressively large around the shaft of it. He smiled, and Cami felt her insides do a pleasant twist.
“At worst, I fall in,” he said. “Nothing wrong with getting a little wet, right?”
Cami bit her lip. “Nothing wrong with it at all,” she said, and turned to hide her flaming face.
…
Jesus, could you be a bigger tool?
It wasn’t the first time Paul had scolded himself for putting his foot in his mouth, but it was the first time in years he’d cared about looking dumb with shoelaces dangling from his lips.
First you do your food-geek recitation of a dinner menu, then you discuss her age and attractiveness, then you mention your disgusting bathroom, then you talk dirty. You know how to impress a woman.
Paul sighed and tried hard to focus on the lesson Cami was giving. He couldn’t believe he’d decided to do this. It had been a spur-of-the moment idea, prompted mostly by the ridiculous crush he’d developed on her in the two months he’d been taking her group yoga classes.
Okay, that wasn’t the only thing that prompted it. There was also the sour look on his brother’s face when Paul shared his cholesterol score.
“You should pay attention to these numbers,” Evan had said, smacking the paper with the back of his hand.
“I am paying attention. I’m giving them to my big brother, the doctor.”
“That’s not enough. You aren’t eighteen anymore. You’ve gotta stop eating like you are.”
“But I’m a chef,” Paul tried to argue. “I get paid to eat. Unless you know of any openings for highly-paid porn stars, this is really the next best thing.”
Evan had rolled his eyes. “You’re going to be an unhealthy chef if you don’t knock it off. Dad died young of a heart attack, remember?”
Paul frowned. “Of course I remember.”
“Do you know what poor blood pressure can do to a man’s virility?” Evan asked. “The corpora cavernosa in the shaft of the penis are responsible for erections, and high blood flow can keep arteries from dilating, which leads to—”
“Christ, dude—I’m not even thirty, and my weight and my cholesterol scores are still within normal range. You’re just trying to get my attention with boner scare tactics, aren’t you?”
“It’s working, right?”
Yeah, it was. Paul was pretty sure he’d prefer the heart attack over erectile dysfunction, but neither sounded fun. Not that he’d had much sex—or any sex—since moving to Bend six months ago, but he had hope. There were beautiful women everywhere, including his smart, funny, breathtakingly lovely fitness instructor.
Of course, he hadn’t had the balls to talk to her in the two months he’d taken her group classes.
All the more reason to try a private lesson.
The other students had been talking for months about Cami’s private yoga paddleboard lessons. Great for core strength, they’d insisted. Terrific way to do toning and cardio at the same time.
Paul had been intrigued, not just by the unique nature of the classes, but by the opportunity to talk to Cami one-on-one. To hear more of her easy laugh and watch the way her eyes lit up as she explained a new
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