Page 9 of After Care

“Oh no,” I muttered.

He’s not looking at me, I argued with myself, but Tommy—yes, of course it was him—stalked straight for the collection of yoga participants. Always preferring the back of anything—a classroom, a theatre, a bus—I was at the back of this group, and when he stopped short at my side, it was obvious he recognized me.

“Uncle Tommy,” Ivy hissed, clearly annoyed at his intrusion but keeping her focus on her position.

He dropped down to the standard form for downward dog, making it look effortless as he bent forward and stretched out next to me.

“Didn’t take you for a yoga expert, darlin’,” he greeted me.

“How would you know?” I quietly snapped, leaning forward to support myself. He chuckled.

“Always a question.”

“So, you’re Ivy’s uncle,” I interjected, ignoring the jab. My legs shook. My arms ached. I couldn’t concentrate.

“Yeah, she’s my niece.” His voice softened, the gruff smoky sound lighter, drifting, like the thought saddened him. I ignored the fact he basically repeated what I just said and swung my head so I could look at Ivy on my left before rotating back to Tommy on my right. I noticed no resemblance between them.

“Back to yoga. Do you do this often?” he asked, a teasing curiosity in his tone as his mouth twitched while he spoke. His head was turned to look at me behind his elbows. He was breaking form.

“First time for everything,” I mocked, and felt my face redden. Last night had certainly been a first.

The curl of his lips told me he knew where my thoughts were—in a dark ballroom, with his fingers…Oh goodness, I couldn’t think of that, flinching as moisture seeped between my legs in this awkward position.

“You’re breaking form,” he said, noting my thighs that momentarily pressed together. My knees bent.

“I can’t do this with you watching me,” I snapped, humiliated at being caught thinking of him and stretching my body in such a way it brought on lurid, luscious thoughts of him doing things to me. My face reddened further, possibly even purpled. I was nearly suffocating with dirty thoughts of Tommy.

“What happened, darlin’?” he teased, the question reminiscent of my momentary freak out from the night before when he reached for my breasts. The reminder forced my eyes to my cleavage, blatantly on display as the leaning position lowered my top, accentuating the curve of my breasts. I’d had them restored to my 36Ds as best I could after the surgery.

Go away, I wanted to mutter at the same time my brain cried, Take me. I was ridiculous.

“I just can’t do this with you staring at me,” I said, peeking around my elbow at him.

“Why not?”

“Because…” I’m self-conscious enough as it is, I wanted to add, but the instructor’smic crackled.

“Lady in red,” the instructor said. “You’re breaking form, honey. Straighten the legs. Tuck in your abs. Accentuate the backside.”

My elbows snapped, nearly collapsing me, and I wanted to bang my head on the ground. She was speaking to me. Tommy chuckled beside me.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to your struggles. But you know what seems better than this position, darlin’?”

I was afraid to ask. “What?” I grumbled.

“Bacon and eggs with me.” My head swung to face him. He’d folded down to his knees, looked at his phone, and spoke to it as he addressed me.

“I’m not done here.”

“I know where you can finish your work-out.”

“No,” I said, but my body screamed yes.

“Room 413. Half an hour.” He rolled up on his toes and stood as if unfolding an accordion. His eyes met mine as I remained in my awkward position. Dark orbs flicked to my raised backside.

“No,” I repeated, but he smiled slowly and walked away.

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