Turns out, he was sort of into not being fawned over because he was Colton Wheeler.
It was one of the things that had attracted him to . . . Fuck. The Number of Days Since I Thought About Gretchen Winthrop board in his mind went back to zero.
“It’s our f-fault, Mrs. Porth,” Gavin said, his lifelong stutter emerging in fear of the woman. “We just wanted to share it because our teammates are getting jealous of how flexible we’ve become.”
To prove it, he dropped his yoga mat and sprang into a deep lunge that would’ve sent Colton straight to the emergency room.
“See,” Gavin grunted, voice strained. “I could practically play first base now if I wanted.”
Mrs. Porth pursed her lips. “Stand up, Mr. Scott. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Del grabbed Gavin’s elbow and helped him up. Mrs. Porth sighed and looked again at the men waiting nervously by the door. “Fine,” she said. “They can join. But let me remind you that if you disturb anyone—”
“They won’t,” Gavin said quickly. “I mean, we won’t. Thank you, Mrs. Porth.” Gavin raced to the door and gave the guys the good news.
A moment later, Gavin returned with his teammates in tow, all wearing variations on the standard professional athlete uniform—basketball shorts, moisture-wicking shirt, and kinesiology tape on whatever body part hurt today. After depositing their yoga mats and duffel bags, they shuffled over to Colton.
One of them extended his hand. “Hey, man. Thanks for letting us join. Jake Tamborn. We met at Gavin’s birthday party last year.”
“I remember,” Colton said, accepting the handshake because it was the polite thing to do. He still wasn’t thrilled about them being here, but he repeated the gesture with the other two men—Brad Eisenberg and Felix Pinas. Both men were in their midtwenties and had the confident posture of two dudes who had no idea what they were in for.
“Did you warn them?” Colton whispered to Del as the three men walked away.
“That they’re about to get their asses kicked? Yeah.”
“Did they believe you?”
“Nope.”
Colton grinned for the first time since arriving at the gym. “This is going to be fun.”
The door to the fitness room opened, and Vlad ran in, flustered. He dumped his yoga mat next to Colton’s and shoved a Santa hat on his head. “How does this look?”
“Surprisingly good. Why?”
“Elena says I have to dress up as Santa for our Christmas party to hand out presents to all the kids.”
Vlad and his wife, Elena, were hosting their first-ever Christmas party in a couple of weeks. Normally, Vlad would never have had time because of his hockey schedule, but he was still recovering from a broken leg suffered during last year’s Stanley Cup playoffs. So when the guys decided to organize a Bromance family holiday party, Vlad jumped at the chance to host it because it might be his only chance.
“I’ve never played Santa before,” Vlad said. “We don’t do Santa in Russia.”
“No Santa?” Gavin gasped and looked up from stretching his quads as if Vlad had just admitted to barking at the moon on Christmas Eve.
Del smacked the back of Gavin’s head. “Damn, dude. Get out of your American bubble every once in a while.”
“We call him Grandfather Frost,” Vlad said.
Gavin sat all the way down, crossed his legs under him, and began to bounce them butterfly-style. “How is he different from Santa?”
Vlad started stretching as he spoke. “Well, he has a white beard, so that is the same. But he does not wear a red suit. He wears long robes. And he does not have reindeer. His sleigh is driven by three horses. And he is not just about giving gifts. He is about good deeds. He gets cold when he is around bad people.”
“I like that. Maybe you should play him, instead,” Colton offered. “No reason to change your own traditions.”
“But Elena says that will confuse the kids and make them question if Santa Claus is real.”
Del shrugged. “Tell them that he and Santa are friends and help each other out.”
“I don’t know,” Gavin said. “I do kind of want to see Vlad in a Santa suit.”
Vlad got a panicked look on his face. “What if I screw it up?”
Colton patted him on the back. “You’ll do fine. We’ll help you get ready. Just practice saying ‘Ho, ho, ho.’ ”
Mrs. Porth clapped her hands loudly and walked to the front of the room. Next to her stood a woman about ten years younger. “Those of you who are new to the class,” she said, staring directly at Jake, Felix, and Brad, “can follow a modified version of all of our exercises.”
As predicted, the three new guys snorted because, of course, professional athletes would have no reason to follow a modified workout routine. They had no fucking idea what was coming.
The guys spread out in a long line extending from one side of the room to the other. In front of them, roughly thirty-five other exercisers took their places next to their own mats and bottles of water. Later, they would all grab an aerobics step for the part of the class that truly separated the women from the men.
“All right, everyone. We’re going to start with some light stretching and warm-up,” Mrs. Porth said. The speakers began to play a quiet, calming music, like the kind you’d hear in a day spa. “Let’s get those arms loosened up with some nice, easy shoulder shrugs . . . That’s it. Now start to roll them back and forward . . . Very good. Now some arm circles.”
Colton spread his arms out wide and smacked hands with Felix. Colton gave him a sharp look, and Felix inched sideways with a quiet Sorry.
“Okay, everyone,” Mrs. Porth said. “Now for some easy yoga poses to get those legs nice and ready to work.”
Colton followed her instructions into goddess pose and several others. A moment later, he looked up from his mat to a disturbing sight. “Dude, get your downward dong out of my face.”
“Isn’t it called downward dog?” Brad whispered back, his face upside down between his legs.
“Not when you do it.”
Brad crab-crawled a few inches away.
“Okay, everyone, excellent job,” Mrs. Porth said. “Now, everyone grab your step and place it in front of you. Remember that you can adjust it to whatever height is most comfortable for you.”
Mrs. Porth had the highest setting.
A moment later, Jake groaned. “Shit, you didn’t tell me it would be this hard.”