“The women’s shelter is looking for a self defense teacher. Any interest?”
“Cool, I taught my two kid sisters, and worked in my stepdad’s karate studio. I’ve been meaning to volunteer more, but haven’t had the time.” His expression was eager, a black lab puppy whose owner was walking up the driveway.
“The shelter would be a volunteer position, which requires 30 hours of volunteer training and a background check —”
“No problem,” he said, bolstering my confidence.
“But also, women in the community might not be willing to go to the shelter. Our friend Mallory owns hOMe Stretch Yoga, you could teach it there? Women could tell their partners that they were going to yoga class. After your paperwork clears, we could do a trial class.”
I stumbled at Cruz’s enthusiastic clap on the back. “How soon can we start?”
Chapter 12Alex
One Week Until Christmas
Mom kicked me out. Inconceivable.
Since Dad had been discharged, the house was as quiet as a library. ‘Dad’s trying to sleep,' and ‘You shouldn’t talk to your poor assistant that way.’
I packed up my laptop, snatched Dad’s key fob, and swiped into his office at Clarke & Associates. Dad’s employees lingered in the doorway until I greeted them, I wished everyone would shut the hell up.
When the door frame darkened for the fourth time in an hour, I scoffed at my sister’s silhouette. Things had finally quieted, and now she arrived to bug me. She’d hung out in Dad’s hospital room last week, always cracking jokes and flirting with staff. What could she possibly want from me?
I cocked an eyebrow over the laptop. “Why are you here, Mallory?”
“Good afternoon,” she sauntered in and lounged in the client chair. I glowered until she lifted a covered plate. “I’m here to share homemade peppermint bark with my favorite brother.”
Sighing, I closed my laptop. The girl knew my weakness.
“I’m not your favorite brother,” I said, peeling off the foil to reveal dark and white chocolate adorned with crushed candy canes.
“You’re my favorite to fight, Nick’s my favorite to tease.”
My thumb made a satisfying crack in the chocolate before I popped it in my mouth. An involuntary moan slipped out and I dove for another. I pointed to the bark and spoke around the bite. “You made this?”
“Nope, Grace did,” she reached for a piece, and I almost smacked her hand away. “She works at the studio.”
I almost snapped that of course I knew Grace, she was my Mrs. Claus. Instead, I chewed, enjoying the rich chocolate and cool peppermint. “We met at the hospital.”
“She loves baking for her students. Sometimes I wonder if they come more for her treats than the yoga,” she said around a mouthful of chocolate, “but as long as they pay for the class and put some aside for me, I don’t care.”
I snagged the last bite before my sister could get her grubby paws on it. She pouted. “I said share the bark, Alex.”
“You should have brought more,” I said around the last mouthful. I considered picking up the plate and knocking the crumbs into my mouth like a heathen, except Mallory might tattle to Mom that I’d lost all my table manners.
“Those scavengers at the studio would have my head if I took more.”
“You’re the boss, take what you want.”
“That’s not the kind of leader I want to be. I don’t want to exploit Grace.” She unscrupulously licked her fingertips and pressed them on the plate to pick up candy cane dust. I was grossed out … and also jealous. A small morsel flew out of her mouth onto the desk. “She’s basically my work wife.”
“Work wife?” I flicked the piece off.
“My favorite coworker, I can’t imagine the place without her. I mean, she’d be a great real wife, too. If I were into girls, I would marry Grace in a heartbeat and pump out, like, a million of her babies. Speaking of the studio … ”
Dammit, the chocolate had been a delicious candy-coated bribe.
What could she want from me at her yoga studio? She probably needed a loan. Or she was too short to change the light bulbs.
“I’m here to rescue you."
“From what?”
“From the oppression of the late capitalist notion that your self-worth is tied to your billable hours.”
“Spoken like a hippie without a real job,” I muttered, brushing the remaining crumbs into the trash can and re-opening the laptop.
She pushed it closed. “You’re on family medical leave, so legally, you don’t have to do anything.” She winked. “My lawyer told me that.”
“But my team in San Francisco —”
“— can wait. You’ve been home for over a week and I’ve barely seen you. And it’s Thirsty Thursday!” I made a ‘get to the point’ gesture. “Luckily for you, your sister has a yoga studio where you can unwind before Happy Hour at the brewpub. I’ll throw in your first class for free …”
“I don’t have workout clothes.”
She pointed to a gym bag.I re-opened the laptop.
Her voice got dangerously quiet. “Why are you doing this?”
