ago.
“Dennis!” the bubbly blonde at the front desk said as we approached. “Who’s your new friend? Are you trying to make me jealous?” She pouted, her expression playful.
“Never, Ashley,” he crooned. “This is Baylee. We just met next door. It’s her first time here, so I thought I’d make your job easier and show her around.”
She typed at her computer, then returned her attention to us. “Here you are. Baylee Morgan. You’re booked in the two o’clock Mat Pilates class. Dennis is taking that, too, so go ahead with him. We give all our new clients the first class for free, but if you enjoy it, come back and see me afterwards. We’ll get you signed up with a bundle. Have fun!”
“Thanks.” I smiled politely at her.
“This way.” Dennis placed his hand in the middle of my back and led me from the front reception area down a long hallway decorated with miniature water fountains, the sound of soothing meditation music echoing in the corridor. I inhaled deeply, feeling all the craziness and stress of the past few months melt off instantaneously. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” he whispered.
“I’d come here just to sit in the hallway,” I replied.
“They have a meditation room that’s even more soothing. No class, just a room you can go into and relax.”
“I’d never leave.”
“It is kind of hard.” He narrowed his gaze at me, as if he were trying to focus his eyes on my face and not the bit of cleavage visible from the tight, yellow yoga tank top I wore.
My uncle always said that when God closed a door, he opened a window. Being here and deciding to check things off my mother’s list filled me with the freedom I’d been looking for since leaving North Carolina. I was channeling my mother’s spirit, and she would tell me to leave myself open for something new. Maybe Dennis could be my something, or someone , new. Marcel kept insisting I needed to get my rebound relationship out of my system. Dennis would do quite nicely.
“Follow me. Class is about to begin.” He gestured with his head toward a room and I followed him inside. Several people nodded to him as we entered, and he made polite introductions. I was surprised at how friendly everyone was. I had a preconceived notion about everyone in LA — rude, self-centered, in their own bubble — but I was finding it wasn’t true at all. The few people I had met here were welcoming and inviting.
Dennis and I set up our mats side-by-side and I sat down, stretching in preparation for the beating my body was probably about to endure.
“Have you done yoga before?” Dennis asked, his voice low, trying not to disrupt the quiet ambience in the room.
“A few times,” I answered, “but only videos. In my small town in North Carolina, they didn’t even have a gym, let alone a yoga studio.”
“This will be fun then. And this is a great class to start out with. It’s more of a mixture of yoga and Pilates, so you’re not holding the poses for what can feel like hours on end. It’s more motion-based. I think you’ll like it.”
“Do you come here often?”
A breathtaking smile crossed his face, his teeth bright against his tan skin.
I cringed. “That sounded like a cheesy pick-up line, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I’ve heard them all. Believe me. You can’t imagine some of the lines I’ve heard at the clubs out in West Hollywood. Based on experience alone, I could write a book on how not to pick up a guy.”
“I don’t think I want to know.” I rolled my eyes.
“You probably don’t.” He winked just as the instructor stepped up to the front of the room and got our attention.
During the forty-five minute class, a flash of heat spread through me whenever I stole a glance at Dennis and saw his eyes glued to my body, causing sweat to bead on my brow. Or it could have been the intense workout I was getting from the Marquis de Sade of yoga instructors. Regardless, it had been years since anyone gazed at me in such a
“Dennis!” the bubbly blonde at the front desk said as we approached. “Who’s your new friend? Are you trying to make me jealous?” She pouted, her expression playful.
“Never, Ashley,” he crooned. “This is Baylee. We just met next door. It’s her first time here, so I thought I’d make your job easier and show her around.”
She typed at her computer, then returned her attention to us. “Here you are. Baylee Morgan. You’re booked in the two o’clock Mat Pilates class. Dennis is taking that, too, so go ahead with him. We give all our new clients the first class for free, but if you enjoy it, come back and see me afterwards. We’ll get you signed up with a bundle. Have fun!”
“Thanks.” I smiled politely at her.
“This way.” Dennis placed his hand in the middle of my back and led me from the front reception area down a long hallway decorated with miniature water fountains, the sound of soothing meditation music echoing in the corridor. I inhaled deeply, feeling all the craziness and stress of the past few months melt off instantaneously. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” he whispered.
“I’d come here just to sit in the hallway,” I replied.
“They have a meditation room that’s even more soothing. No class, just a room you can go into and relax.”
“I’d never leave.”
“It is kind of hard.” He narrowed his gaze at me, as if he were trying to focus his eyes on my face and not the bit of cleavage visible from the tight, yellow yoga tank top I wore.
My uncle always said that when God closed a door, he opened a window. Being here and deciding to check things off my mother’s list filled me with the freedom I’d been looking for since leaving North Carolina. I was channeling my mother’s spirit, and she would tell me to leave myself open for something new. Maybe Dennis could be my something, or someone , new. Marcel kept insisting I needed to get my rebound relationship out of my system. Dennis would do quite nicely.
“Follow me. Class is about to begin.” He gestured with his head toward a room and I followed him inside. Several people nodded to him as we entered, and he made polite introductions. I was surprised at how friendly everyone was. I had a preconceived notion about everyone in LA — rude, self-centered, in their own bubble — but I was finding it wasn’t true at all. The few people I had met here were welcoming and inviting.
Dennis and I set up our mats side-by-side and I sat down, stretching in preparation for the beating my body was probably about to endure.
“Have you done yoga before?” Dennis asked, his voice low, trying not to disrupt the quiet ambience in the room.
“A few times,” I answered, “but only videos. In my small town in North Carolina, they didn’t even have a gym, let alone a yoga studio.”
“This will be fun then. And this is a great class to start out with. It’s more of a mixture of yoga and Pilates, so you’re not holding the poses for what can feel like hours on end. It’s more motion-based. I think you’ll like it.”
“Do you come here often?”
A breathtaking smile crossed his face, his teeth bright against his tan skin.
I cringed. “That sounded like a cheesy pick-up line, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I’ve heard them all. Believe me. You can’t imagine some of the lines I’ve heard at the clubs out in West Hollywood. Based on experience alone, I could write a book on how not to pick up a guy.”
“I don’t think I want to know.” I rolled my eyes.
“You probably don’t.” He winked just as the instructor stepped up to the front of the room and got our attention.
During the forty-five minute class, a flash of heat spread through me whenever I stole a glance at Dennis and saw his eyes glued to my body, causing sweat to bead on my brow. Or it could have been the intense workout I was getting from the Marquis de Sade of yoga instructors. Regardless, it had been years since anyone gazed at me in such a
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