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The women walked into the main studio and glanced back when Isaiah moved toward the steps to the attic.
“You’re not teaching our class?” The women clearly sounded disappointed.
“No, Cara has this one. I’m helping my friend today.”
They eyed Darren again. “You have the cutest friends, Isaiah.”
Heat exploded in Darren’s face, and Isaiah pushed him up the stairs. “Thanks.”
They were still giggling as Isaiah let them into their practice room. “Sorry about that. They’ve seen me train Jack. He’s not quite in your league, but he is pretty cute.”
Isaiah stepped out of his shoes, and Darren followed his lead. “Cute, huh?”
A laugh shot out of Isaiah, and the look he delivered Darren had him catching his breath. “As I said. Not in your league.”
Darren searched for a place to put his bag to avoid Isaiah’s piercing stare. To avoid the very unprofessional urges that came with it. “Where should I . . .?”
“Drop it against a wall.” Isaiah’s voice held the amusement Darren always heard when he got a reaction from his flirting.
The space felt small and cozy. More so when he looked at Isaiah and his body flushed.
Isaiah handed him a small hand towel. “It’ll get warm in here. People don’t like it when the rooms are cold. Feel free to take off your shirt if you get hot.”
The last part was punctuated with a wink.
“I’ll follow your lead.”
“Oh really?” Isaiah peeled off his shirt and flicked it to the floor. He fixed Darren with an expectant stare.
Darren’s breath hitched. Maintaining eye contact, he pulled his loose-fitting T-shirt over his head and let it drift to the mat. “Are we ready?”
“Oh, I’m so ready.” Isaiah smirked. “How much do you know about yoga?”
“A little. A little less than that. Okay, none.”
“So if I said, ‘assume the position,’ what would you do?”
“Be afraid you want to paddle my butt.”
Isaiah’s eyebrow shot up. “You quiet types are always full of surprises.”
“Quiet? Me? Not really. In the right situations I’m very loud.”
Isaiah opened his mouth as if to speak and then laughed softly.
Suddenly Darren knew what Isaiah was picturing, and—fuck. “So what position do you want me in?”
Isaiah’s grin slammed into him. “Let’s start with some basics,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “Until I get a feel for what you can do.”
They’d worked for fifty-five minutes. Darren’s torso was covered in sweat, and Isaiah’s waistband was wet around the edges.
What would he look like completely naked?
Darren lifted his gaze and saw Isaiah watching him over the rim of his water bottle. So busted.
“So . . . um, yoga pants are a thing for guys?” He hoped the exertion would hide his blush.
Isaiah laughed and sprayed water on the floor. “Is that really what you were thinking?”
Darren picked up his bottle and hid himself behind a drink.
Isaiah let it go. “What do you think of yoga?”
“Much harder than I thought, but I feel really loose. Like I do after a pregame stretch, only better.”
“Bingo. That’s because it is better. And you did really well. I kept pushing you with more advanced moves and you were right there with me—mostly.”
Darren inhaled deeply. He hoped Isaiah would think it was from the workout and not nerves.
“Isaiah?” a female called into the room. “Are you in here?”
“Yes, Mindy.” Isaiah looked at Darren. “Mindy’s the studio owner.”
The door opened wider, and Darren was sure he saw her eyebrows go up just a fraction when she saw him standing so near Isaiah. “Someone is here to see you. She says she’s your mother.”
“Mom? She’s here? Like downstairs—not on the phone?”
“That’s what she said, but I don’t know her.”
“Where is she?” Isaiah shot to the door.
“At the check-in desk,” Mindy said to his back.
Darren wiped his hand on the towel and watched as the two left and the door shut behind them. Well, okay.
He searched for his shirt and pulled it on.
Air whooshed into the room as the door flung open, and Isaiah was back. “Why aren’t you coming?”
Darren scooped up his bag and snagged his sneakers. “I didn’t realize I was invited.”
Isaiah smirked. “You can follow me anywhere, Darren.” He paused. “And I want you to meet my mom.”
Darren’s chest rammed up his throat.
He swallowed it back down and tossed Isaiah a giant grin. “How about I shower first? First impressions and all that.”
Isaiah backed out of the room—or he tried. He banged against the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah. The showers are, um, down one level.”
Isaiah hurried away again, and Darren was left alone facing one certainty.
He was screwed.
Chapter Seventeen
Isaiah
Isaiah was unusually nervous about introducing Darren to his mom.
“Everything okay, dear?” she asked when they arrived back at the attic studio.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” He smiled. “So why are you here? Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not like you to surprise me like this.”
“Can’t I come visit my son to check in on him?”
