Chapter 10
Carli
Except one of them was Niall.
When he’d expressed interest, she couldn’t exactly say, “No, you’ll be a massive distraction for me, so please don’t come.”
Carli arose at nine. She pulled on some leggings, a Lycra top and a fleece-lined hoodie, whipped her hair into a topknot and retrieved her yoga mat from her suitcase.
It might seem crazy to some people, but Carli never travelled without it.
While others prioritised twenty different face creams or pairs of shoes, for Carli, the mat afforded her the chance to flop down on the floor and do yoga when and wherever the need took her, something that helped with the muscle pain the Fibromyalgia brought.
Often fatigue made exercise the last thing she wanted to do, but knowing it was one of the best things, forced her into stretching through the pain much of the time.
And many of her classes were yoga for those with chronic pain, which meant easier sessions for her.
One thing that wasn’t good for Carli’s pain was the cold. And Scotland, as welcoming as its inhabitants were, was not a warm country. Carli’s bones might be accustomed to Melbourne winters, but she didn’t like them, and Scottish autumn was on a par.
Fortunately, the morning was crisp and cool but overlaid with warming amber sunshine. Temperate enough to be outdoors, so long as you could keep moving. And, even if the air was chilled, the vibrant autumn leaves were a visual spectacle that easily distracted from the cooler temperature.
When she got to the beach, three of the people who’d enthused about the yoga were waiting: Celia and Gertie, best friends in their fifties who ran a tearoom in the village, and Alan, a man in his forties who worked at the distillery. Carli was genuinely thrilled at the turnout.
When it didn’t look like anyone else would appear, Carli positioned herself in mountain pose on her mat. The others followed suit as she guided them through breathwork to centre themselves.
As she focused on the low rush of the Kintyre shoreline, Carli concentrated on letting life’s stresses drift out to sea. Sure, they might sweep in again, but with each exhale off they went, each time washing back in more diluted than the last.
The sound of ragged, heavy breathing and a familiar male voice filtered into the space.
‘Hey, so sorry, I’m late.’
Carli opened her eyes to see Niall tumbling down the dunes.
She’d assumed he wasn’t coming, that yoga wasn’t adrenaline-fuelled enough for him.
But here he was, in navy sweatpants, no less, a snug thermal base layer and flip-flops, his hair tousled from sleep as if he’d just rolled out from under crumpled bedcovers.
She’d have trouble rolling out of bed with that next to her.
Don’t.
‘No worries, Niall. Do you have a mat?’
‘I brought a towel. That works, right?’
‘Sure, that’s great. We’re doing some gentle breathing right now and using the waves to buffer our practice.’
‘Okey dokey.’ Niall sounded willing but blindly compliant rather than someone who had the faintest clue what she was talking about.
‘Close your eyes and concentrate on your breath: in for six, hold for four, out for six.’ Carli explained again, finding her way back to the rhythm she’d been in, like a mermaid going from shore to home, flipping her fin until she was fully at one with the waters once more.
When she opened her eyes to address the group, Niall was standing at the back of the group on his towel, staring out to sea, a vacant expression on his face.
Lost, even. Had he been doing the breathing exercise at all?
Her instinct was to go to him, but she had to suppress it.
Be professional. Niall could join in or not. That was up to him.
Next, Carli led the group into a sun salutation sequence designed to promote warmth and relaxation.
She tried her best to circulate round everyone, adjusting their poses if necessary.
Celia, Gertie and Alan held their stance well and only needed a little support.
Niall was more of a challenge. There was something blocking him.
It was like the physical flexibility was there, but the willingness was not.
He moved like an Action Man doll that had been sitting in an attic for forty years and needed oiled.
Tense, stiff, difficult to work with. And when finally in a pose, he held it with a resistance that Carli could have seen if she’d been watching him from the lighthouse down the coast. The man needed a good massage.
And the rest.
After the sequence and as the group was sitting in lotus position, Carli approached Niall, knelt behind him, placed her hands on his shoulders and gently pressed down.
Something she did often in her classes, although never to anyone she found as ridiculously attractive as Niall Butler.
Never to anyone whose shoulders sent heat through her merely by being shoulders.
There was such strength in them, powerful sinewy muscle beneath the skin, but also a rigidity that she wanted to rid him of.
‘Breathe, Niall.’ Carli crouched down and whispered to the back of his neck, trying not to notice how strong and tanned it was.
‘Breathe. Count in for six, hold for four, then out for six.’ She curved her arm round his front and rested her palm on his stomach, mustering all her make-believe skills to pretend this was any old client.
My God, his abs were rock hard. The musculature of that six-pack rippled under her palm.
But he breathed like she instructed.
The man did as he was told.
And as he did, she breathed too. Inhaled him. Became synchronised to Niall Butler again.
‘In – two, three, four…’ Carli kept counting, steadying herself as much as anything.
Then Niall placed his hand over hers.
She stalled, heart hammering.
This was not in the teacher training manual.
‘I’ve got the counting,’ he said, as if the hand were to stop her talking. But he made no attempt to remove it.
It’s a job, it’s a job. Do your job.
Carli directed her focus back to the rise and fall of Niall’s abdomen, as if it might steady her. But something far more powerful took over and emboldened by the silent permission he’d granted, she shuffled a little closer to him. To the heat of him.
Did she imagine it, or did he spread his hand wider, firmer over her own?
Whether he had or had not, their closeness was enough to bring crashing back into Carli’s sentience exactly who this man was.
Her first love. Her only true love. With his potent scent of salt and ocean air and a hint of citrus.
And he was hot. So hot. To the eye, to the touch.
Carli’s nipples tightened. Niall’s abs tensed again.
Fuck. Did he sense her arousal? If she drifted lower, what would she find?
All she could do was keep breathing, her palm under his, like they were curled into each other naked, heat rising between them.
Except they were clothed on a beach with other people and she was very much awake and supposed to be running a group yoga session, not a tantric sex class for one.
After what could have been one minute or one hour, Niall lifted his hand, as if to free her.
Carli lingered a little longer on his diaphragm.
She was breaking every student–teacher boundary, and if anyone saw in her head she’d be fired on the spot, but letting go was hard. And Niall knew it, she could tell.
Telling herself to get a professional grip, Carli forced her fingers from the magnetic pull of his body and stood up.
‘That’s great, Niall. Keep it up.’ She rubbed her nipples to warm them back to normal before asking the group to open their eyes.
Back on her mat, Carli led the group through a vinyasa and back into a sitting relaxation pose, eyes closed, where she cheated and watched Niall with impunity.
He was beautiful, sitting there, the morning sun working to soften his tense jawline, to coax him out of himself, and adding a golden hue to his days’ old scruff.
She doubted he’d shaved since leaving Australia.
The rough look suited him. It suited her too.
She’d take out a subscription to view that.
‘How was that for you?’ she asked him as they wrapped up. ‘The session,’ she added, then inwardly kicked herself. Obviously the session. They hadn’t had sex, although part of it was close to foreplay.
‘Aye,’ was all Niall said.
‘Aye?’ The word sounded silly coming out of Carli. It wasn’t made for an Australian accent.
‘Aye, it was good,’ he added. ‘You… It helped me relax a bit. Parts of it anyway.’ The corner of his mouth quirked knowingly.
‘You are tense,’ Carli agreed, attempting to bypass the sexual undertones. ‘Yoga could be what you need.’
‘I am, and you could be right.’
‘I’m impressed by how you opened yourself up to the breathing. You could easily have stayed closed off, but you didn’t.’
‘Being here’ – Niall nodded to the sea – ‘makes me tense. The ocean makes me sad, but I don’t want to be like this forever.’
‘You won’t be. And I am here if you ever want a friend to talk to.
’ Niall was weighed down and maybe what he needed more than anything was someone to listen.
She could do that. ‘And if you want to do any more yoga,’ she added, ‘I’d be happy to do some sessions with you. It’s great for overall wellbeing.’
Niall turned his gaze from the water to Carli. ‘You’d do that?’
She nodded. ‘Sure. I can tell you’re hurting, so I’d like to help ease that.’ Carli could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. Was that dangerous? That she’d put his needs before her own? This man she was so helplessly drawn to.
‘Och, it’s alright, Cass. It’s not your job to fix me. It wouldn’t be fair of me to place expectations on you. You should be spending your time here relaxing, catching up with the family and enjoying yourself. The name on the party invite said Niall, not “Project Niall”.’
The ocean roared in Carli’s ears and through her blood, pumping her pulse harder. The more he protested, the more she wanted to help him. Fuck. How many days had she managed to resist Niall? Three?
Hell, why not get a t-shirt made up with Project Niall emblazoned over the back of it and walk about town, showing everyone how you feel? Oh, wait, why bother when even a blind man could pick that up? You need to sort yourself out, Caselli, because you are travelling down a road to trouble.