The Secret (Winslow Brothers 3)

I shrug, trying to ignore two sets of extremely wide eyes.

“Holy hell,” Lydia mutters. “You’re in a full-fledged affair with your professor.”

I snort. “He’s not my professor.”

“You’re right,” Lydia agrees. “He’s your boss.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds terrible,” I muse. “But it’s not like that. I mean, I’m twenty-six, Lyd. A consenting adult. It’s not like I’m an eighteen-year-old college student banging her actual professor.”

She considers me for a long minute, chewing at her lips nervously. I can see the words she’s not saying stark in her eyes. But you are the daughter of the head of the English Department who is currently banging the professor her father arranged for her to be a teaching assistant to.

“I’m guessing Nate doesn’t know about any of this?” Lou asks into the silence.

I eye her sarcastically. “Oh yeah, Nate knows all about it. Ty even has an arrangement to put a sock on his office door whenever we’re in there fucking so Dad doesn’t walk in.”

Lydia snorts. Lou grins.

“Yeah, okay, I’m done with this conversation.”

“Yeah, if I were you, I would be too.” Lydia laughs then, easing the blow by reaching out to grab my hand. “I hope it works out, babe, I really do. Only you can know how worthwhile it is—how you feel about him.” She shrugs. “If I were you, and he were Lou, I’d risk it all.”

They smile lovingly at each other, and my stomach clutches in longing. I don’t give in to the temptation to assess how I feel or wallow in evaluating my choices. No, I choose the route of blissful ignorance.

Because if you gave it a moment of consideration, my mind whispers, you’d have to admit you might be falling for him.

Thankfully, Lou breaks the ice by announcing we’ve arrived at our stop, and I put my brain back to bed. It’s wayyy too early to be dancing my way into thoughts like those, Dancing Queen or not.

All three of us file off the mostly empty train and head up the stairwell to the outside world.

The studio is evidently five blocks from the station—another fun little surprise—but Lydia at least does me the courtesy of not questioning me further. Instead, she lets go of my shoulders and walks ahead of Lou and me in silence for most of the five blocks.

“Are you ladies ready to get your dance on?” she exclaims when she finally does reboot the conversation, and I feign a dramatic groan.

“No. Not at all. Because it’s too flipping early for anything but sleeping.”

“Trust me, Rae. You’re going to love it!” she whoops and skips ahead a few feet and comes to a stop in front of a building with a sign that reads Groovin’ Goddesses. “Plus, the instructor for the morning class is a regular of ours.”

Lydia holds the door open as Lou and I continue to walk toward her.

“This instructor enjoys baked goods?” I question, getting a little hope from that possibility. I mean, a workout instructor who eats cookies and cakes is someone I can stand behind.

“Well, baked goods that are vegan, gluten-free, and keto-friendly,” Lou offers as we step out of the chilly morning air and into the warm entry of the studio’s lobby.

Hope bubble officially popped.

No offense to people who follow a strict diet, but I’m more of an eat-it-all-in-moderation kind of gal. You won’t find me skipping tacos and margaritas or beer and pizza in the name of my figure. Though, more power to the people who can. I applaud you!

But the music that’s currently blasting through this place? I do not applaud. I swear, it feels like Kelly Clarkson is all hopped up on speed and singing along with techno-house music. Not to mention the neon lights that hang from the ceiling are so bright, if I took a selfie, I’d be able to see inside my pores.

A good time for a club, maybe, but it’s a hell of a lot of sensory overload for six in the morning.

“Oh, this is going to be a real blast,” I mutter.

“How about instead of being all grouchy, you focus on thinking about how good you’re going to feel after we finish this class?” Lydia nudges me with her elbow and grins. “Exercise equals endorphins, Rae. And endorphins make people happy.”

“Wow. Thank you, Elle Woods.”

“Good morning, ladies!” a lady in pink leggings and a matching halter top chirps from behind a reception desk. She’s dancing along to the music and smiling so big I can see her freaking molars. “You ready to get your groove on?”

I flash Lydia the side-eye, my expression mostly Why the hell did you bring me here?

But she ignores me. “Yep! We sure are!”

“And what class will you be groovin’ in this morning?”

“Hip-Hop with Holly.”

“Oh, that’s a fabulous class!” Peppy responds. “Such a great workout and so much fun! Give me a minute, and I’ll get your Groovin’ Bands!”