Chapter 14

Lia

Yoga wasn’t something I practiced on a normal basis. I preferred cardio and kickboxing, exercise to keep me active, yet unthinking. But every once in a while, I sought the peace yoga brought to my constantly anxious and overactive brain. It was therapy for my muscles too, keeping me limber and focused.

But this session wasn’t flowing as well as the others. And that had everything to do with the tap-tap-tapping against the front window by very-hot Maxwell Martinez.

All eyes zeroed in on his shadow as he peered inside. He couldn’t see us, but we could see him. Police glass is how the owner, Tanya, referred to it. She called it bad karma for her clients to be disturbed by people outside—which made no sense since we could still get distracted by what was out there.

Cue Max.

When it was clear he wouldn’t quit his incessant knocking, Tanya finally unlocked the door to let him inside, disrupting more than just our workout. Wearing long, red gym shorts and a tight, gray tank top, he looked very much like a guy who was ready to work out…just not with yoga.

So, the question of the day was: Why was he here?

“They certainly didn’t make ’em like that back in my day.”

I pressed my knuckles against my lips to fight off a laugh. Cynthia, the eighty-some-year-old woman who took this class four times a week, made her thoughts known the second anyone got close to her. Apparently, she thought Max was one in a million. Can’t say I blamed her.

A couple of the other ladies giggled like schoolgirls as he set his mat—his mat?—out on the floor, kitty-corner from mine in the back row. Everyone was far too distracted to perform the tadasana with the new man of the hour standing and stretching as though this was the most natural place for him to be. I knew otherwise, of course. Max had a reason to be here…but I’d yet to figure it out.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t recognize me. Not with the extra layer of clothing covering my back and arm tats. I also wore a black do-rag to catch the sweat, which happened to camouflage my pink hair too. When it came to Maxwell, I wanted to be as incognito as possible right now. Childish, I know, but what was a girl with a mildly broken heart—not to mention damaged ego—to do?

After I’d left him at least twenty threatening voicemails over the fact that he’d stolen my car, only to somehow trade it in for a new one, I had finally decided to just say to hell with things. If Max wanted to be an overprotective ass, then fine, so be it. I was tired of fighting against it when technically I didn’t mind it that much anymore. Well, at least when he wasn’t beating or threatening someone. Or buying me cars.

But just when I’d decided to officially let him off the hook, he’d stopped coming into the bar. Add that to him ignoring my calls—only to text me back minutes later to say Sorry, I’m too busy to talk—and I was a teensy bit bitter.

Okay, I was a lot bitter. Two weeks and we’d come full circle again, landing at the spot I thought we’d just gotten ourselves out of.

“Hey, ladies. Sorry I’m late. First time yoga-goer here.”

I rolled my eyes and stretched to my right, the burn in my ribs doing little to distract my irritation. Seriously. What did he think this was, a singles’ bar? A place where he could lay down a little charm on a room full of “yoga-goers” and then expect them all to fall at his feet?

Cynthia moved her mat next to his, wasting no time. She was a certifiable, man-eating old lady. “I’ll share my mat and let you follow my moves, big boy.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Max’s throat. “Thanks, ma’am. Appreciate that.”

I bet he winked. It was a very Maxwell thing to do.

“I’m not gonna lie to you fine ladies today. I didn’t come in just for yoga. I’ve actually started leasing the building next door and thought I’d drop in, see if anyone’s in need of a little catering.”

I froze, even though my ankle threatened to break from my vrksasana. Either my ears needed cleaning, or Max had just said he—

“Catering, you say? What kind of food do you cook?”

My lip curled at the sound of Tanya’s voice. Yoga boss-lady extraordinaire was breaking her own karma rules for this?

More than anything, I wanted to laugh. Max couldn’t even commit to a woman. What made him think he could open a business?

“Mostly Mexican food. Tostados, tamales, enchiladas…”

I winced. Okay, well, the guy was the enchilada king, so if it was something he loved to do, that might make a difference. But still. This was Max. The forever twenty-one-year-old who insisted on taking and breaking hearts. Like mine, for instance.

“My son’s graduation party is next month.” A quiet blond who normally spoke to no one in class piped up in front of me. She turned to study Max. Her lips quivered as she continued. “My…my husband just lost his job. We don’t have a lot of money, but if you can take payments, then maybe—”

“It would be my pleasure to help you and your family, ma’am. No money needed. Just lookin’ to spread the word.” A collective sound of awws and gasps surrounded me. Everyone had stopped with their poses altogether, too focused on the man behind me.

Heavy footsteps padded against the floor, and I could smell his aftershave before I could see his body. He’d moved to stand next to the quiet blond, which left him almost directly in front of me. I turned my head away and shut my eyes, willing the warmth in my chest to stop stirring. Damn him and his goodness, that silver-and-gold-plated heart of his.

Words were exchanged among the other women behind me, and when I glanced back again, most had left their positions to crowd around Max. It reminded me of a male strip joint, all the clientele looking at him with wide, eager eyes and dollar bills at the ready. The only thing missing was his G-string. Even if the situation matched the scenario, I could almost guarantee Max wouldn’t take the money. The guy lived for the attention of others.

An annoying ache sat in my chest as I watched him. Clueless and bright eyed, he grinned and laughed as the women spoke and fawned over his words. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about telling the world he’d started some catering business. Yet as far as I knew, he hadn’t told anyone he was close to, including me.

Max seemed to have had made some big life decisions over the past two weeks. No doubt he’d used his dad’s money to make this happen, which I’m sure was a big weight lifted off his shoulders. Part of me wondered if my bitchiness had helped push him to do this. The fact that I had called him out on his lackluster lifestyle would forever cling to my chest like guilt superglue. There again, if that was the case, shouldn’t I be glad I’d done it?

As I took a few steps back and silently wove my way through the small crowd of people now distracted by Max, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had suddenly lost one of the most important things in my life.

Until I heard what he was saying, that is.

“…she’s got pink hair. Some tattoos too…mostly flowers. Name’s Lia. Does she come in here at all? Her brother said she did.”

Ignoring the murmurs of the women, I frowned. I wasn’t recognizable as that girl in here. Here, I was Old Lia—a.k.a. Leanne. It’s the name I’d registered under. My real name. Regardless, I held my breath and continued toward the bathroom. At this point, I was willing to hang out in a stall until he decided to leave. I wasn’t ready to speak to him. Not yet.

“She sounds like a gorgeous woman,” an unrecognizable voice said.

“She’s beyond gorgeous. She’s perfect.”

I froze at Max’s words, my hand shaking as I clung to the bathroom doorknob. I shut my eyes, willing him to keep going, scared at the same time of what he’d say if he did.

“And she’s one of my best friends.”

My shoulders fell, and that same ache I’d been feeling for weeks now burned hotter in my chest.

Best friends. That’s all we are.

“But I think she’s avoiding me. I’ve been trying to find her all day.” He chuckled. “Guess luck isn’t in the cards for me right now.”

“Aww, sweetie,” I heard Cynthia say. “I don’t think we have anyone who comes in here with that description. But I’ll be sure to keep a look out anyway.”

“You sure?” The distress in his voice had me biting my tongue. “I mean, maybe you haven’t noticed her? She’s quiet and sits alone everywhere she goes. Maybe she’s—”

“How tall is she?” Tanya asked.

“Is she pale, or is she one of those spray tanners?” Blondie from the front row asked next.

“Big boobs or small boobs…” Cynthia? I bit my lip to curb my laughter, even with tears building in my eyes.

“Her eyes? What color are they?” an unrecognizable voice asked.

In my head, I counted to thirty, waiting for him to answer.

“Phew…I, um… Her eyes?”

I swallowed and twisted the door handle, my wrist aching from holding on so tight. He’d known me for years, yet he couldn’t even remember my eye color?

“Her eyes. They’re…”

My chest tingled, the waiting endless torture to my soul.

“Her eyes are amazing.” Max blew out a heavy breath. “So wide and blue, like fire and ice combined, then exploded to create the perfect color.”

“Oh God,” I whispered under my breath, pressing a hand to my chest.

“They always steal my breath whenever she looks at me. It’s kind of insane, really.”

My face grew hot, while my belly did loop-de-loops inside. Max made me feel like I was on crack—the chocolate kind. The kind you crave so badly that your stomach tightens with the simplest thought of it—of him. The kind you know is so bad for you, but the forbidden pull only makes you desire it more. Add words like he’d just spoken, and I was done. Gone. Completely and utterly taken.

“You love her.” Cynthia said. That woman… I wanted to hug her and hit her at the same time. Because now I couldn’t escape into the bathroom like I’d planned. Instead, I had to stay there and torture myself some more.

“Sure I do. Like I said”—he cleared his throat again—“she’s, um, like a sister to me.”

I blinked. And I blinked again. The truth so harsh I couldn’t think. Sister…that word was even worse than best friends. It was truly all I would ever be to the guy who had a solid grip around my shattering heart.

Ignoring the burn in my throat, I shouldered my bag a little higher, squared my shoulders, and left.

This yoga session was over.