Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (black books to read txt) 📗

want you to monitor closely what goes through your head as we do this exercise, as you prepare to punch me. You’ll obviously not put any force into your blow, or else I’ll go K.O.”

She grins, and without leaving me a chance to protest, she lifts my hand. The movement she makes me do almost equals a standstill. I hardly realize she’s shifting me closer to her face.

“Concentrate on the emotions this triggers in you,” she says in an even and calm voice.

I try to study the bitterness that had been coursing through my body only a minute ago. To my surprise, I can’t find any trace of it—like it evaporated or never even existed.

A sweet buzzing has taken its place—a mushy, almost giddy sensation that coats my insides like a soothing balm.

My fist relaxes just before it reaches her cheek.

A smile tugs at Ellie’s lower lip. “It’s working. I knew it would.”

“Indeed,” I murmur.

Ellie stands only two feet from me, and our bodies are connected, our gazes interlocked. It’s been over ten years since Ellie and I were in such an intimate position as we are right now—hand in hand, staring into each other’s eyes.

She’s right, only it’s not her exercise that helped me let go of my negativity, but her presence. Which is probably not what was meant to happen.

I free my hand from her grip before my fist reaches her cheek. “I think we can stop.”

I can’t prevent my thumb from brushing her neckline briefly, almost as if by accident—an accident my cells deeply desire—before retreating from her.

Her breath hitches. “Anyway, that’s the best way to treat tension. As you could see, when you become mindful of your feelings, they dissolve.”

She turns and strides back to the sofa.

I stare at her back and can’t help but fear that no matter how mindful I become about the sensations Ellie unleashes in me, I’d still be a victim of her allure.

Chapter 14

(Ellie)

The temperature in our condo’s empty basement is sultry, making our stretching session led by Cora feel like an authentic Bikram yoga practice.

I don’t mind the heat. I hope the sweating will wash out all the unhealthy emotions I accumulated throughout this week’s sessions with Wyatt.

Sensations I’m not supposed to have for so many reasons.

“Laia, sugar, that’s no way of doing a downward facing dog,” Cora scolds my future sister-in-law. “You’re dropping your neck again. I told you not to do that.”

I throw a glance at Laia, but I can only see patches of red skin beneath the thick curtain of her dark mane that spreads around her head, making her resemble Cousin Itt.

I’d invited Laia to our usual Friday afternoon workout because Hope had gotten caught up in a meeting—again—and I didn’t want to endure Cora’s brutal training alone.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her so Cora can’t hear us. “Cora’s a very severe instructor.”

“That’s okay,” Laia pants back. “It’s my fault. I’m so stiff.”

“You two, practice is almost over and then you can get back to gossiping,” Cora says while firming her shoulder blades against her back and drawing them toward her tailbone.

No wonder my roomie has such perfectly toned abs. She can keep still like it’s nothing, even in the three-legged plank position.

“I’ll continue my story about Dev and Wyatt’s night out after this pose ends, okay?” Laia whispers, then imitates Cora’s impressively fluid motion—with little success.

Fine. So I might have had another minor hidden agenda when I invited my brother’s fiancée to join us.

But my interest in Wyatt’s affairs is purely professional.

Wyatt showed intense physical reactions to several of the exercises I’d proposed to him during our first week. Though I’ve done my best to encourage him, he hasn’t verbalized the core of his unease yet. I hope that if I learn more about how Wyatt spends his afternoons and evenings, it might shed some light on what’s really going on with him.

Cora sits back to her heels. “We’re done for today.” She grins at Laia, who’s catching her breath. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoying might be too strong of a word for now.” Laia smiles at my roomie. “I’m all sore. All the stooping in front of the computer takes away my flexibility. I’ve installed an app that freezes my screen every hour, so I stand up and move, but—”

“You use the breaks to scribble ideas by hand for your novels?” I finish Laia’s sentence for her.

Laia’s eyes widen. “How did you know?”

“Just a guess.” I’m afraid if I point out that the last time I visited her, her house had been chock-full of handwritten notes, I might derail her from the tale she needs to finish. “So that night out, you wanted to tell me about…”

My prompting collides with Cora’s encouragement. “You should come to our yoga practice more often, sugar. It’ll get you into great shape for your wedding,” she says to Laia.

Laia’s eyes illuminate, and she pivots to Cora. “Ah, really? You think so?”

I stifle a frustrated grunt.

I know Cora didn’t do it on purpose, but she’s just double-crossed me big time. Laia, being the romantic soul she is, adores talking about her upcoming nuptials. Now I must explicitly ask her to return to the topic of Wyatt.

But if I do that, Cora might get suspicious. My roomie already gave me a questioning look the first time I casually asked Laia whether she knew what Wyatt’d been up to these days.

Cora starts combing through her ombre ponytail, staring at Laia with a dreamy smile. “You’re so lucky that Devon proposed to you.”

“If Andrew is the right one, he’ll pop the question eventually,” Laia assures her.

“We’ll see,” Cora answers.

The guarded edge in her tone makes me forget my previous suspicion and study her face to understand its origin. I’m not sure whether it’s her uncertainty about Laia’s prediction that makes her hesitant or whether she has conflicting feelings about the possibility that Andrew’s proposal might actually happen.

Before I can decide, Laia turns to me. “Devon will have two best men. He couldn’t choose between