22. Ariella
TWENTY-TWO
ARIELLA
I LOVE WATCHING MEN GET HUMBLED.
Dalton’s car rolled up right on time, his familiar, easy grin greeting me as I opened the passenger door and slid in, feeling the same jolt of nerves I tried to ignore whenever I was around him.
“Morning, Sunshine.” His voice was warm and casual as he pulled away from the curb.
“No coffee today?”
I tossed my bag into the back seat, trying to avoid eye contact, afraid that he’d take one look at me and somehow figure out I’d spent half the night dreaming about him—dreams I couldn’t forget even if I tried. My saving grace was that today I was making them do something I could almost guarantee none of them had before.
I’d probably be so busy laughing my ass off that I wouldn’t have time to think about how his shorts always bunched at the crotch, giving me way too clear of a picture of what he was working with.
“Earth to Ariella.” I yelped at the sound of Dalton’s voice, my cheeks heating at being caught thinking about his junk. “Distracted much? Look in the cupholder.”
“Really?” I asked, trying to grasp onto the new subject before he could ask what I was busy thinking about. Sure enough, there was an iced coffee in the holder, and it was the perfect color, too. “You’re a godsend.”
“I know.” I swore he puffed out his chest at the compliment. “Always iced coffee, even if we’re in a blizzard. But you’re from California. You have no clue what cold weather is like. I bet you rethink that whole no hot coffee, even in winter thing.”
“I bet you I don’t.” I held up the cup, examining it. “Where did you get this? It’s the best coffee I’ve had since getting to Dallas. They made it perfectly…” My voice trailed off as I searched for the name on the cup and found none.
He looked over at me warily. “Uh, it didn’t come from a coffee shop. I made it this morning.
“You…you made it?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the fact that my favorite coffee didn’t come from a shop, but from him, and that he’d taken the time to make me one before picking me up.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Technically, my mom made your coffee.”
That comment made me choke. Great, even white boys have their moms do everything for them? Oh god, did he say who the coffee was for?
Dalton was utterly unaware that I was spiraling and kept on talking. “She needed help getting down some containers, and apparently that project couldn’t wait ’til I saw her on Sunday, so that didn’t leave me enough time to run and get you a coffee. I tried to do it, but she told me I was ruining her fancy machine.” The tips of his ears were tinged pink. “I did add the two coconut sugars and half-and-half ’til it was…well, whatever shade of brown that is,” he said sheepishly.
So, he didn’t ask his mom to do everything for him.
I blinked, caught off guard by the confession. It was strangely endearing, picturing him in the kitchen trying to work what was, given how good it tasted, probably a very nice espresso machine to make me a coffee. “How did you even know this was how I liked it?”
“I notice things, Ari,” he said with a shrug. “You mixed your last drink like you were a mad scientist. Hard to miss.”
No. Those things were hard to miss. Gracie still asked what I wanted even though my order hadn’t changed in years. He saw me prep my coffee one time and then managed to get it perfect. My cheeks warmed, and unwanted butterflies exploded in my chest. Why did he care to pay attention to that? The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I chickened out.
“You didn’t tell your mom this was for me, did you?”
“Of course I did,” he said, like it was no big deal.
Meanwhile, my heart literally stalled in my chest, a million questions swirling in my mind.
What did she say?
What did she do with her hands when you told her?
What did her face do when she heard about me?
“She knows I don’t drink coffee, so there was no way it was for me. Oh, by the way, she told me to tell you that she hopes you kick all of our asses.” He relayed his mother’s words with a shake of his head.
I wanted to smile, but I was too busy fighting off a panic attack that he’d told his mom about me.
“Did you tell her about us?” I blurted out.
His gaze cut over to me, something like guilt flashing in his eyes. “No. I didn’t tell her we were dating, just that you’re the new coach…and that…I like you.”
Of course, that was the exact moment we pulled up to the studio, so I didn’t get a chance to grill him on what exactly he’d meant by that last part.
The guys were already outside, shooting wary glances at the door like they’d been led into a trap. Jimenez eyed the studio sign with open horror. It wasn’t like I’d kept where we were going this morning a secret. One quick Google search would have shown them where the address led. Honestly, how were men still alive and making it through natural selection?
A woman probably helped.
Dalton let out a bark of laughter as he cut the engine. “Oh, they are going to love this.”
The nerves induced by our conversation melted away, and a smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. “They’re going to hate it, but I’m going to love witnessing the suffering,” I said with a smirk, moving to open the door, but the lock engaged as soon as my hand touched the handle.
“Don’t you dare,” Dalton warned, already halfway out of his side.
“What the hell? Locking me in won’t get you out of this practice,” I yelled after him when he slammed his door shut, pointing at me through the windshield as he rounded the front of the car. My irritation faded when I realized what he was doing.
He yanked my door open, a boyish grin plastered on his face. “Darlin’, before you tell me…yes, I know you can do this yourself. But I’ll be damned if I pull up in front of all my teammates and let them see you open your own door.” His warm hand wrapped around mine and practically pulled me into his chest. The scent of clean laundry and cologne enveloped me, making me feel even more unsteady than I already did. “My momma raised me to be a gentleman, Ariella. ‘Fraid you’re going to have to get used to it.”
First the coffee, now the door opening.
Strawberry gloss coated my tongue as I gnawed on my bottom lip, trying to tamp down my feelings. If I was being honest, I liked it when he did things for me. Which was a bit of a mindfuck since I prided myself on my independence—but maybe both things could exist at the same time.
“You going to carry my bag too?” I sassed, trying to regain some semblance of control, even though I let him continue to hold my hand against his chest, his thumb absently stroking my skin.
“Naw, Sunshine. I like watching you lift heavy shit.” His gaze raked over my body like a physical caress. “It’s fucking hot.”
“Hey, lovebirds. Let’s go,” Jimenez yelled, reminding me I was supposed to be working .
Shit. Focus.
Dalton chuckled as I scrambled to get around him, practically running so I could put some space between us. Though part of me asked why I was trying to get away. Wasn’t the point supposed to be that they all believed we were dating? I was going to have to find a balance between girlfriend and professional.
Fake. Fake girlfriend.
Before I could mentally dissect why I kept forgetting that little key detail, Jimenez distracted me. “What are we doing here?” He looked from me to Dalton like this had to be a prank.
“Pilates,” I said simply, pointing to the giant sign. His face was priceless. I patted his shoulder, fighting off a smirk. “This is what your core conditioning is missing. It’s great for stability, strength, and balance. It’ll help you on the ice.”
Stephens gave an exaggerated groan, but otherwise didn’t say much. He’d seemed to come around over the last week, no more judgmental remarks about how I might have gotten the job. He’d even asked me to help improve his squat form.
Jimenez shot Dalton a horrified look. “Pilates? Like the shit rich housewives do?”
“Better than pushing weighted sleds, right?” he responded with a shrug. Dalton’s body radiated heat from where he stood behind me, not too close, but it still felt…territorial.
We walked through the door, the little bell over the entrance announcing our arrival as if we needed it.
“If that’s the case, it’s practically a vacation. It was hard to sit down to shit for days after that practice,” Roberts called out, causing the instructor to nearly choke on her water.
“Boys, let’s behave in a way that wouldn’t have your mothers smacking you upside your heads.” I glared at Roberts, who looked at his feet, bright spots of pink staining his cheeks. I turned toward the woman, who looked at us like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, they sometimes forget they need to use manners and not their locker room talk.”
She smiled, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear nervously. “Oh, that’s okay. Welcome everyone. I’m Lisa. Glad to have you in today.” She waved her arm to the side, directing everyone’s attention to the main portion of the studio. “Go ahead and choose a reformer. Your coach has already gotten grippy socks for you all, and each station has been prepped with your props.”
They all stood there awkwardly, eyeing the straps, springs, and pulleys like they were torture devices—which might prove to be true for some of them.
“Hey.” I clapped my hands to get their attention when they still hadn’t moved. “This is still a workout, not an optional activity, so get your asses in gear and act like you’re professional athletes and not a bunch of babies.”
Like a switch had been flipped, they all scrambled to get to a reformer. Lisa smiled shyly, nodding her thanks.
“Be mean to them. They like it,” I said, leaning over so only she could hear.
Her smile widened, and confidence started to take hold. She straightened her back, standing taller as she addressed the group. “Okay, gentlemen, have any of you done Pilates before?”
I rolled my eyes at the cocky snorts, positioning myself at the front of the room so I could assist with form. Of course, Jimenez answered for the group, turning on the charm. “We haven’t, but I’m sure we can handle it, mami ,” he said with a wink.
“Well, in that case,” Lisa said, utterly unfazed by his overt flirting,“you should know this class will challenge every muscle you know you have and a shit ton you weren’t aware of.” She walked over toward the front of the room, a pep in her step.
Dalton settled onto his reformer with ease, looking at me with a challenging glint in his eyes, while Jimenez and Roberts snickered to one another as they put their socks on.
“This is gonna be easy,” Jimenez called out, slinging his arm across his chest in an exaggerated stretch.
These poor, ignorant souls. They had no idea the pain they were in for…
We were barely thirty minutes into the class, and every one of my players had a different expression of regret plastered across their faces.
“Keep your core tight. Drop it lower, boys. That front knee should be at ninety,” I called out, watching them struggle. “Roberts, those weights are supposed to be out in front of you. ”
Lisa giggled as I reached for his arm, guiding them up toward where they should be. He let out a groan that sounded like he was dying.
“Oh my god, this is…impossible. When did three pounds get so fucking heavy?” he gasped, his face red with exertion.
Beside him, Jimenez said every expletive he knew in English and Spanish. “Coach, this is some medieval torture. Why are my legs shaking like this?” He pulled the carriage back so he could come out of the lung and looked down at his limbs in horror. “The sides of my ass cheeks hurt.”
“Get back into it, Jimenez,” Lisa called out from where she was demonstrating the move, looking like she was out for a walk in the park while the guys were at death’s door. The shy girl from earlier was nowhere to be seen. She was running this class like a drill instructor, and I loved every second of it.
“Come on, we’re going to pulse it,” she shouted. A laugh burst from my lips at the protests from everyone on the team. “For ten, nine, eight?—”
“Bro, there is no way,” Roberts called out, face twisted in pain while she continued to count down.
Dalton moved through the exercises with steady concentration, but I could see the strain tightening his jaw. The sweat beading up along his brow.
“Up two inches, down two inches,” I said, pressing my fingers to the crease behind his knee, ignoring the flutters at how close I was to his half-naked body. He’d ditched his shirt at some point, and I’d been actively ignoring him, because every time I looked at his body, all I could picture was him using those broad shoulders to hold my legs open and using that ton?—
“You this mean to all your boyfriends?” The deep rumble of Dalton’s voice cut off my fantasy, and I squirmed under his attention. God, did he know what I was thinking about? His eyes sparkled with amusement, making my stomach flip and heat shoot straight to my core.
Why the hell was my mouth so dry? I swallowed, trying to get my voice to work and willing it not to come out sounding breathy and turned on. Because I was. Something about watching all of his muscles ripple under his skin as he moved was tantalizing. And for some fucking reason, that desire to lick the sweat off his body was back…
“Oh, this is nothing,” I replied, fighting with my libido. “Wait ’til next week.”
At the other end of the studio, Stephens let out a frustrated groan, attempting to hold his balance. “Who taught you to count? This has been way more than ten seconds.”
“Okay, boys, on your backs,” Lisa called out, ignoring the jab. Probably because she had kept them down in that pulse longer than ten seconds, and if her smile was anything to go by, she did it on purpose.
“Oh, thank god,” Jimenez said, collapsing to the carriage.
“Feet in straps, Pilates V. You’re going to draw your legs in and then zip them back up.” She called out, showing off the move. “Low back stays glued to the carriage the whole time.”
“Cap, what the fuck did you do to piss your girlfriend off?” Stephens yelled. “Fix it…fast. Because I am positive she’s trying to kill us.”
“Why do you assume this is my fault?” Dalton’s response came out strained as he struggled to get the loop around his foot.
I laughed, deciding to help him out so they knew this wasn’t some form of group punishment.
Well, not entirely. I did enjoy watching men suffer a bit.
“You’re doing this because I want you to perform at your best. Pilates will make you faster and more stable on the ice. Plus, stronger obliques mean better puck control.” I looked around the room. “Trust me, you’ll thank me when you see the results.”
The class wound down with a series of stretches, and I stifled a laugh, watching them stumble off the machines. They were going to feel this tomorrow…or tonight, to be honest.
“It was so nice meeting you all,” Lisa said as they started to filter out. “Can’t wait to see you next week.”
The chorus of curse words had me dying.
“So,” Dalton began, leaning against the wall and watching me. “Turns out Pilates is…intense.” He gave a small chuckle, brushing a hand through his hair.
I rolled my eyes, collecting a few stray towels. “What, you thought it would be a walk in the park?”
“Maybe. I see women doing it all the time with ease. And, like an ass, I figured it was because the workout was easy, not that they might be strong.”
That was one of my favorite traits about Dalton. He wasn’t too prideful to admit when he was wrong or sexist, and he didn’t get angry about a woman being better than him at something. It made him that much more attractive.
“Next time, I’ll join in and show you how it’s done.”
He pushed off the wall, stepping into my space. “How about a private lesson?”
“Do you know how much those cost?” I teased.
“I’ve got money. Charge me for it, Coach.”
We both fell silent, the air between us buzzing as his eyes dipped to where I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. “Who do you think paid for this class?”
His brows furrowed for a moment before he barked out a laugh. “Did you seriously pay for this with the money I sent you?”
“I told you I didn’t want your money.”
All he did was hum and reach out to stroke my cheek. For a moment, it was just the two of us, surrounded by the quiet hum of the studio. “Come on a date with me this weekend.”
My breath caught in my throat at the request, and I froze. What would it mean if I went out with him? This was all supposed to be a show for work, but going with him somewhere…was that for show, too?
“I…” I struggled to figure out what I was feeling—what I wanted. “Gracie and I are super busy this weekend. Lots of plans,” I rushed out, stepping back.
His expression changed, blinking as if coming out of a fog. “Right, of course,” he started, dropping his hand away, tone shifting. The heat from a moment before evaporated, and my stomach dropped. It was as if I could feel the way a chasm was now placed between us. I should have felt relief, but instead it felt like my heart was placed in a vice grip.
“Um, I talked to my father yesterday?—”
I cut him off without meaning to. “What did he say? You think that will work?” My adrenaline spiked, half from nerves, half from hope.
He hesitated, jaw ticking as he looked off to the side. “I honestly don’t know. He’s…stubborn. But if he sees you’re an asset, maybe we’ll have a shot. It’s all about showing him he doesn’t want to lose you, no matter our relationship.” His green eyes caught mine, sincerity in their mossy depths.
I nodded, mulling over his words. “Right, so we stick with the plan of acting like we’re dating until I show him I’m valuable.”
“About that.” Dalton sighed, shifting his weight, clearly uneasy. “I was thinking of telling Jimenez the truth about us. Just him. He’d cover for us if anything slipped. Keeping him in the dark doesn’t feel right. He’s been my best friend since middle school. We’re practically brothers. But I’d need your okay first.”
Something warmed in my chest, both at his loyalty to Jimenez and his consideration of my feelings. “Yeah, of course. If you trust him, then so do I. Besides, Gracie knows, so it’s only fair you have someone too.”
He nodded, a smile blooming as his shoulders dropped slightly like the question had been weighing on him. “Awesome. Also, Media Day is coming up next week. We’ll need to be ready. Our ‘relationship’ is bound to come up.”
The reality of our situation sank in further .
“Hey,” warmth radiated from where his hand gripped my shoulder, “it’s going to be great. Now, let’s get you home so you can get started on your weekend plans with Gracie.”
There was no judgment in his voice, but they still hit right to the chest. Because I didn’t have plans. I just didn’t know how to handle the feelings swirling around in my head for him.