Contrary to me, the man was flexible. And that position in particular was making every single muscle on his legs and arms stretch and flex and… pop. So much that it was impossible not to stare. Biceps, triceps, quadriceps, calves, even his ass as it stuck out in the air. It was a flexed-muscle-fest, and that stupid thermal he was wearing had no business being so tight.
My face shouldn’t have been feeling so warm, either. I—
Cameron’s eyes met mine again, and I cast my gaze away.
What in the world was I doing ogling him like that?
I refocused on Josie’s voice as it transitioned from whatever pose that had been to something that sounded like some Slavic dessert. Parlova? Pablova? I didn’t know, but I lifted an arm, flexed a knee, and looked down, trying my best to mimic Josie’s stance. Just as I was on my way to do a very awkward version of the Parlovskana—which included a strange leg flex—something ran into my side.
The leg supporting my weight was kicked from under me and I was knocked over.
Almost. Because hands closed around the top of my arms, securing me upright.
And thanks to the grunt reaching my ears, I didn’t need a sixth sense to know who those large and warm palms belonged to.
“Bloody goats,” Cameron grumbled, his hold shifting up and engulfing my shoulders.
I glanced down, finding Brandy at my feet. “And here I thought you were on my side, Brandy.”
The blind goat nudged my leg again, and I felt Cameron’s grip tighten.
Curious about that reaction preceded by the bloody goats, I looked over my shoulder, finding his face right there. So close that I could see the slight wrinkles around his eyes. The specks of brown in the green of his eyes. The smooth-looking texture of his skin. An unsolicited wave of warmth climbed up my neck. Cameron’s hands dropped.
“Listen to the goats,” Josie said, suddenly in front of us. “They are here to help, and Brandy was trying to tell you something. Probably that you shouldn’t give up.” She placed her hand behind her ear. “What’s that, Brandy? Oh yes. Brandy wants you to give this your best shot.”
I blinked at Josie. “I’ll try?”
“Don’t act so shocked,” the man slightly behind pointed out in a dry tone. “You were talking to the goat a minute ago.”
Josie’s gaze shifted to him. “She wants you to try your best, too, you know?” She tilted her head. “Hmm. You look tense, Cam. Would you feel better if I got a second goat to come over here?”
“No.”
I frowned at the curt and direct answer. Was it… Was it possible that Cameron didn’t like the goats? “Well, I think I would love another goat,” I heard myself say. “Maybe even a few more.”
Before I could get a reaction from Cameron, someone from the back of the group piped up. “Josie, honey? Can we switch positions?” Diane’s voice was strained. “We’ve been holding Crescent Lunge for so long I think Gabriel is about to pull a muscle in his back.”
Josie’s eyes widened. “Sorry, Diane!” she called. And then, she snapped into action. “Okay, you two—or three,” she said, pointing at Brandy, too, “are stalling the class.” She walked around me, and next thing I knew Cameron’s hands were on my shoulders again. The warmth returned to my face. “And you, my dear Adalyn, are struggling,” Josie pointed out.
“I have it under control,” I complained. “I don’t need a private lesson. Or him. Or his hands on me.”
Cameron grumbled something.
Josie’s grin turned tight. “I’m not driving Gabriel to the ER again. GOGGH is going to go smoothly and without a hitch today. So, Cam”—she shifted her gaze behind me—“stop looking like you’re sucking on a lemon and help her. You clearly know what you’re doing.”
“But—” I tried again.
“No buts.” Josie’s expression morphed, giving her a strangely threatening look for someone who was wearing a yoga set in neon pink. She turned around and said in that soothing voice from earlier, “Aaaaaaaaand, warrior position!”
Cameron released a deep, loud breath.
One that I felt right at the back of my neck.
I swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was standing. Of the weight of his hands. Of the warmth of his body. Of what we were about to do. Together.
“I hope you’re happy,” he muttered. And the palm that been limply resting on my shoulder flexed, wrapping around my shoulder blade with clear intention. He was guiding me through this.