“Tell me the truth. Do you actually like yoga?”
“Yeah, ever done it before?”
He smirks. “No. Always looked way too easy.”
I roll my eyes. “Is that cockiness I hear?”
“From me? No. I’ve just seen all those basic Karens on the beach doing yoga without any problems.”
I chew on the edge of my lip. “Alright, tough guy. I think today is the day you learn a little basic bitch yoga.”
Easton smirks. “I’m game. Let me go get a towel and some bottles of water for us.”
“Perfect, you’re gonna need it.”
He backs away, showing me his perfect smile, then runs toward the house. Sometimes, I see the way Easton’s eyes meet mine and how he allows silence to linger for just a second after I speak. He listens and cares, though he can be tough at times, especially at work.
As I wait for him, I think about the things that led us here, and it makes me wonder why he’s single and has been since before we met. There’s not been one woman at the shop or his apartment, at least none that he’s shown interest in. At twenty-eight, I’d been married for six years and was living a nightmare of a life.
Easton returns, and he’s carrying everything he promised.
“You should stretch first,” I tell him, touching my toes. After feeling my quads loosen a bit, I cross one arm over my chest and hold it tight before switching.
“Hope it gets harder than this.”
“I’ll try to go easy on you,” I taunt.
“Oh, okay. Thanks,” he says, playfully rolling his eyes.
“First off, we’re going to start with three poses—cat, child’s, and cobra. We’ll go slow, then flow into each one.” I show him how to do them all with the correct posture.
“These feel good,” he admits when we’re in child’s pose with our heads down and arms spread in front of us. My legs are tucked, and I feel the stretch. We hold for twenty seconds before moving to the next one.
Once we’re finished with those, Easton glances at me. “That’s it?”
I sit, then push my legs straight in front of me and slightly lean. “As you exhale, bend your knees, lifting your thighs to a forty-five-degree angle, then straighten your legs, keeping your arms pointing forward. This is cobra.” My stance is flawless.
Easton tries but can’t seem to straighten his legs without tipping backward.
I lift a brow at him. “We’re still in the intermediate category.”
Seeing him struggling with his big bulky muscles makes me snicker.
“Okay, next one,” I tell him. “This is what we call bow.” I lie flat on my stomach, then reach behind me and grab the top of my feet with my hands before inhaling. I carefully lift my upper body and open my chest. “Stay lifted for five full breaths to get the full effect.”
Easton can’t grab the tops of his feet.
“Aw, looks like you need a strap to help you like a basic bitch on the beach.”
“Hush.” He snickers. “Is it me, or do I have T-Rex arms?”
“It’s all those big muscles getting in your way. Just waiting for you to admit that maybe yoga isn’t the easiest exercise out there.”
“Not yet,” he says, being a stubborn Belvedere like Piper said.
“Suit yourself.” Moving to my next position, I squat, then place my hands on the ground. Easton follows my every move, and when I lift my hips and bring my knees toward my upper arms, he curses.
“This is crow,” I say, keeping my balance steady as I move my feet upward toward my butt. “This is crane.”
I hold it for ten more seconds before slowly putting my feet back on the ground.
“After you…” I linger, realizing he’s not in the correct position.
Moving closer, I touch his knee. “Spread them wider.”
He bursts into laughter, and I almost crack with him.
“Mm-hmm, now put your feet together before lifting yourself. You’ve got the strength and balance. Just have to put them together,” I encourage.
When he lifts himself, I place my hand on his lower back to steady him. “Now lift your legs.”
Easton falls to the ground and plops down on his back, laughing. “Shit.”
His green eyes meet mine, and I grin.
“This is advanced?”
“No,” I say matter-of-factly. “Still intermediate.”
We go through different forms of planks, which he totally nails, and the eagle pose before moving to harder ones.
“I dunno if I should warn you or just go for it,” I offer.
“Not sure I like the sound of that.”
I shrug, well aware that Easton is staring at me as I stand. “Hope you’re ready.”
“I was born ready.”
“Okay, smart-ass.” I bend over and walk my hands behind my ankles, then carefully lower my legs onto the back of my upper arms before lifting my feet and pointing my toes straight forward.
“Waiting,” I tell him, holding myself up like it’s easy. It’s not, and it took me two months of practicing to do without falling, but I don’t tell him that.