Sibby Slicker by Samantha Garman

Author:Samantha Garman [Garman, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tabula Rasa Publishing, LLC.

Chapter 19

#skinnygirlsmakemestabby #Iwillendyou

We were in a large open room on the second floor of a converted warehouse. Sunbeams shot through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting rays of light onto the wood floors. The soft sounds of Native American flutes played in the background as women entered the yoga studio. They were all in different stages of pregnancy; some sported small baby bumps, while others looked to be far along in their third trimester.

Aidan and I had taken two spots in the middle of the room, and we were sitting cross-legged on our mats.

“They’re judging me,” Aidan whispered.

“No one’s judging you,” I stated.

“I’m the only guy here.”

“You’re sexy and wearing a pair of shorts that show off your lumberjack legs,” I said. “The ladies are lookin’.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“How bad do you want a beer right now?” I teased him.

“On a scale of one to ten, about a fifteen,” he muttered.

“You really don’t have to give it up for me.”

“I want to.”

“Okay. Your choice.”

“You’re not allowed to make a bet with Annie on when I’ll cave.” He gave me a mockingly stern look.

“I would never do such a thing. That’s like asking you to fail.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how much faith do you have in my ability to be sober for the next eight months?”

“Oh, look the instructor is coming.” I faced front and ignored Aidan’s eye roll.

The young woman who came into the room looked neither pregnant nor homely. She was petite, with a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and gorgeous red hair that trailed down her back in a long braid. Her yoga pants and sports tank showed off her killer, toned body.

She stopped in front of Aidan.

“Are you sure you’re in the right class?” she asked, her blue eyes taking in all six feet hotness of my husband.

Aidan smiled, flashing his dimples. “I’m here to support my wife.”

The instructor’s eyes slid to me. I held up my hand and waved. “Oh, what happened to your wrist?”

“I tripped,” I answered flatly.

“No backbends for you,” she teased.

“What’s a backbend?” Aidan asked.

I began to explain, but my words died as the instructor dropped to the floor and demonstrated. She grinned at him from upside down.

Limber bitch.

She unfolded herself and stood up. “That’s a backbend.” With a wink, she stalked away, putting an extra sway in her step.

I looked at Aidan. “Next class better be taught by a gay guy.”

After class, Aidan and I bought two green smoothies for the walk home. Aidan didn’t even look like he’d exercised. Then again, he played basketball once a week with Caleb and stayed frisky with me.

He got his cardio.

Me on the other hand…my ponytail was limp, my skin was slick with sweat, and my heart rate still hadn’t returned to a normal beat. And yoga hadn’t even been that stressful. A lot of it had been breathing techniques followed by a few simple poses.

“That was fun,” Aidan said when we got out onto the sidewalk.

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