Chapter 7 Downward Doggone
downward doggone
ROXANNE
At the height of my career, I adjusted to all time zones during my travels, and I never let jet lag slow me down.
I could get off a red-eye, throw some lipstick on, and conduct an important interview or pose for a photoshoot.
Now, getting out of bed in Colorado seems to be the most difficult part of my day.
Especially for sunrise yoga, which Topper invited us to.
Allie and Leo are over the moon because they practically live at our local studio back in New York.
Not me.
Mostly because I can’t meditate. I simply cannot. The gears of my mind are always turning. Every time I’ve tried yoga, I end up fretting about the to-do list constantly running in my brain. No amount of bamboo flute music, still poses, or deep breathing has ever gotten me to sit still and relax.
I yawn as I open my door to Leo and Allie, who have come to pick me up.
“Good morning, my love,” Allie says. “We’ve not even been here twenty-four hours, and this is easily one of my favorite places.”
“Shhhh, you might want to keep your voice down,” Leo says. “I think Rox is still dreaming.”
“Oh, of course,” Allie weaves her arm in mine and whispers. “Have I mentioned how excited I am?”
“Is it the yoga or the fact that Topper might be stretching on the mat next to you?” I ask with a grin.
“That’s a bazillion percent why I’m so excited,” Allie replies.
“Did you hear that, Leo, a bazillion percent,” I say as I turn off the TV in my room.
“I heard that. This is serious.”
The door clicks behind us when we exit. “Alison, my dear, you realize you can’t fall in love in a day.”
“Have you seen Wyatt? Did you notice his calf muscles? His forearms?”
I chuckle. “No, but apparently you have and now you’re dating them.”
“We’re soulmates,” Allie insists.
I scoff. “You are not soulmates. There’s no such thing. You are lustmates. You think he’s good-looking, and he makes you smile, and it’s only a matter of time before we catch you with him behind the barn. This is nothing more than a summer fling.”
Allie starts down the stairs ahead of Leo and me. “You don’t think you can fall in love during a summer?”
I stop on the landing and glare at her. “No.”
She shrugs. “You say that now. You could be married by August, my friend.”
“Meanwhile, I am once again reminded why I’m happily married,” Leo says. “Y’all are exhausting.”
“Good morning, everyone!” Topper opens his arms wide when we reach the lobby.
Corded muscle ripples beneath his sun-warmed skin, and there is no denying why Allie is crushing on him.
He is the epitome of a good-looking, rugged, mountain man.
Allie rushes right into Topper’s chest, his arms close around her, and they both giggle.
I’m trying to be irritated by the display, but I can’t help but see how cute they are together. Maybe they really are soulmates.
Topper releases Allie, comments on how beautiful she looks in her yoga clothes and then finally notices that Leo and I are in the room. “Everyone ready for some quiet time in nature?”
No, I say silently to myself, but I manage to fake a smile as Topper leads us out to the sundeck.
I pause because while I can’t quite bring myself to look at the woods surrounding the lodge, the sky is absolutely stunning.
Thankfully, I stuck my mini notebook and pen in my tote bag before I left my room.
The dawn unfurls over the mountains like a slow-moving flame, soft pinks melting into molten gold.
Light washes over the rugged peaks, making them glow with something almost sacred.
The pine-dotted slopes stretch endlessly, bathed in a warm radiance that turned every sharp ridge and rolling hill into something out of a dream.
Below, the lake shimmered like polished glass, reflecting the sky’s brilliance, while the crisp morning air carried the scent of sun-warmed cedar and earth—untamed, exhilarating.
Oh, that’s good.
I scribble more notes as the others take their places on the yoga mats that have been set out for us complete with towels and water bottles.
Since this really isn’t my jam, I take the last mat in the corner in the back row as residents emerge from the lodge.
They bid each other good morning and start stretching.
The only reason I’m somewhat calm is because Duke Faraday’s sizzling, dizzying energy is absent.
I set my notebook down thinking maybe I should try meditating.
Standing with my feet a foot apart, I stretch my neck, close my eyes, and take deep, purposeful breaths as the cool morning breeze gently whispers through my ponytail.
For a moment, I forget where I am, forget the job, and forget the stubborn mountain man I’m being forced to deal with.
Until someone’s breath tickles my neck.
“Well, well. Didn’t take you for a Namaste kind of gal, Sunshine.”
I whip around to see that impossibly handsome face of his. I should’ve known Duke would have to be here to make this activity impossible for me.
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
He steps in front of me. “You know, I’m not entirely sure since I see you as … the opposite.”
“That’s only because you’re the eclipse that blocks out all light and joy in my world, Cowboy Ken.”
“Cowboy Ken?”
“Yes, you’re like a Ken doll that comes with a pair of rhinestone chaps for dress up.”
He rubs his stubbled chin. “I guess I’ve been called worse. I’ll take it.”
“And I’m sure your other nicknames are not appropriate for polite conversation.”
“Is that what this is?” he asks. “I can’t wait to see when things aren’t so polite with you.”
His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate, and I swear I see the faintest flicker of something deeper, something far more dangerous, beneath all that pompousness.
“Why don’t you Nama-stay-away from me and take the furthest mat over there, Mr. Faraday.” I rock my head from side to side and roll my shoulders back as he releases a deep, throaty laugh.
“Oh, I’ll be taking my place shortly, but it will be at the front of the class,” he says.
My eyes widen and my once-calm heartbeat takes off as if a starter pistol has been fired. “You’re … you’re teaching this class?”
“That’s right, Sunshine. Hope you can handle it. Before we get started, do you mind if I adjust you along the way?”
I release a quick breath. “You are welcome to adjust me, but you won’t have to.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ll only adjust you if I notice you’re not quite in alignment. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“You can worry about the rest of the class, thank you, I’ll be fine.”
Duke walks to the front as I frantically try to recall the poses a yoga instructor might guide us through. Downward something, mountain pose … tree? Ugh, of course they’re all nature related. Why can’t we stand tall like skyscrapers?
I try to look away, but my gaze betrays me as it makes its way to him.
He’s wearing athletic shorts and a sleeveless white T-shirt.
He rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms over his head—a completely unnecessary display of muscle and flexibility.
His arms were the sort that could pin a man in a fight or hold a woman steady in the kind of way that would make her breath hitch.
“Welcome to sunrise yoga. If everyone could take their places and get ready. Thankfully, Mother Nature has created one hell of a sunrise with her paintbrush this morning,” Duke says.
The class laughs and then exhales in unison.
“Let’s get started with some breath work. Breathe deep into your belly, expanding with each inhale. Let your exhale be slow and controlled,” he continues. “Breathe in, breathe out. Let’s start the day, centered and focused.”
This is the worst possible scenario for sunrise yoga. Not only is Duke Faraday the most distracting yoga teacher I’ve ever encountered, it’s impossible to focus while listening to him. His voice is a deep, lingering timbre, the kind that could either soothe or ruin a woman, depending on his mood.
“Now, I want you to set an intention for this morning’s practice,” Duke says. “Think of one word that can make your journey today even more mindful. Something you want to manifest and make your own for the day.”
After giving the class time to pick their word, he continues to guide the class. “Let’s move into mountain pose. Feet firm on the ground, shoulders back, spine long. Think of yourself as steady, unshakable.”
I close my eyes, working through the rest of the sequence.
“Next, Marjaryasana-Bitilasana or Cat-Cow,” he continues. “Inhale, lift your chest, tailbone up. Exhale, round your spine, tuck your chin.”
After we’ve warmed up, he begins to move us through the sun salutations, and when I open my eyes, to my horror, I realize he’s moving through the class to adjust others. I almost tip over when I see his hands roll another woman’s hips into the correct position.
It shouldn’t bother me and yet, somehow it does.
I shake my head and release an exaggerated sigh.
I move into downward dog, and my pulse jolts.
The heat from his hands is searing through my yoga pants faster than the sun.
His fingers barely graze my waist before settling on my hips as he guides me into more centered position.
Suddenly, every single cell in my body is hyperaware of how he’s gliding with me. He keeps reciting the sequence for the rest of the class, but it’s almost as if he’s trying to meld his body into mine.
“You need to loosen up, Sunshine,” he whispers into my ear as I expand into warrior one. “You’re holding so much tension in your shoulders. Want me to help, or do you prefer suffering in silence?”
“I’m only suffering from you ruining my focus,” I say as I flex back into warrior two.
His rough hands skim my shoulders as I straighten, and the softest whimper escapes me.
No.
Oh no.
My body is not cooperating, and I decide that I’m done with this particular spiritual journey. I drop my arms and gather my things.
“We still have forty minutes left in class,” Duke says, and judging by his expression, I swear he seems disappointed.
“There’s plenty of other women who would love for you to loosen them up. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Duke continues to guide the class as I bolt back into the lobby. The air outside feels too thin, my skin too warm, and I know one thing for sure—whatever just happened out there had nothing to do with yoga.