Hot & Heavy (Lightning 2)

“You think it’s a joke but I know a hundred different ways to make a man cry and only one of them is kicking him in the balls.”

That startles a laugh out of me. “Jesus. I think I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah.” She sniffs disdainfully. “I get that a lot.”

I think back to the bar, to how I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. “I bet you do.”

“Stop trying to distract me.” She rolls her eyes. “Now are you going to tell me what made you decide to hang off the side of that mountain instead of letting the rope do its job?”

“How do you know I didn’t?”

“Really?” She pokes the no-longer-sore spot hard enough to make me wince. “Are we going to do this again?”

“Okay, okay!” This time when I throw up my arms it’s in real surrender. “I didn’t use the ropes…because I wasn’t wearing any.”

She doesn’t immediately blow up, like I thought she would. Instead, she kind of stares at me, like she can’t comprehend the words that just came out of my mouth. Then again, maybe she can’t. Sage might be hell on wheels when she gets going, but she’s definitely not the daredevil type.

“I’m sorry,” she finally manages to get out. “What did you just say?”

“I said I was free-climbing.”

“Free-climbing.”

“Yeah, it’s where you—”

“I know what free-climbing is. I’m not a moron.” Her voice says, very clearly, that the same can’t be said for me. “Alone?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a very high rock. I just picked the wrong handhold, and things got dicey for a minute or two.”

“Dicey. For a minute or two.” This time the words are so low I have to strain to hear them.

“Yeah. But really, it wasn’t a big deal.” I gloss over the couple of hair-raising minutes when I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. “I banged up my hand, overworked my shoulder. But ten minutes on the mat with you and already it feels better.”

I’m not even making that up. Sage is a miracle worker. Sure, the yoga stretches helped, but whatever she did to my shoulder a couple minutes ago has it not hurting for the first time since I hit the water wrong all those weeks ago in Acapulco.

“I’m glad to hear that, because it’s going to have to last you.” She turns and grabs her backpack and her shoes, not even bothering to take the time to slip her feet into the flip-flops as she heads for the door.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

She turns on me, poking me in the chest with each word as she goes off. “I’m leaving. I have enough on my plate without dealing with some adrenaline monkeyjunkie with more balls than brains. If you come by the studio tomorrow, I’ll assign you another instructor or refund your money, whatever you want. But this”—she gestures between the two of us—“is done.”

She starts to take off again, but this time I grab her arm. Spin her around. “Look. I’m sorry. I was out there trying to work through some demons, and I made a stupid mistake. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal, because I’m not going to sit here working my ass off to make time to work with you only to have you ruin everything the second you’re on your own.”

She tries to shake my hand off, but I hold on. “Please. Don’t leave. I need you.” I’m not even sure I’m talking about the yoga therapy anymore.

“Yeah, well, I’m not up for watching you try to kill yourself. I won’t do that.”

I shove my free hand through my hair, then curse when it pulls loose from the ponytail and gets in my face. “Look, I swear I won’t do anything that will fuck with my shoulder and whatever you’re doing. Okay?”

“Do you think that’s why I’m upset? You’re out there with a fucking death wish and—”

“It’s not a death wish.” Somewhere deep inside me, anger sparks at the implication—along with another emotion I don’t know how to name.

Sage sees the rage, but when she yanks her arm from my grasp, it’s obvious she doesn’t give a damn. “Maybe not, but it’s something and it sure as hell isn’t healthy. I’m not going to be a party to that.”

“Why do you even care?” I demand. “You’re getting paid no matter what.”