Free Resisting Roots (Lotus House Book 1) by Audrey Carlan

for dinner just for you.”
    “It’s your night to cook anyway,” I yelled just as the garage door slammed shut.
    Amber snorted and bit down on her lip. “He so played you.”
    “Yeah, he did. Beautiful boys being sweet. Gets me every damn time.”
    “Maybe I should give that tip to Trent Fox tomorrow before you start your lesson. What are you going to teach him anyway? Downward facing dog? Then you could stare at his booty.”
    I’m certain my mouth dropped open and my eyes were the size of a large pizza. “Did Ms. Priss herself actually suggest I lasciviously ogle my client?”
    She flushed so red it turned her chest, her neck, and her cheeks a fine crimson. “Admit it. You already ogled him.”
    I sighed, remembering how I helped him get into that particular pose already. “Oh, yeah.” And worse, I was not sorry.
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    TRENT
    S omething was off . Genevieve made a concerted effort not to look at me today. And I tried my damndest to be on full display. Today, I’d shucked my shirt and worn a pair of basketball shorts. I wanted her to see every available inch of my body in hopes it would get her juices going so that when I asked her out, the answer would be a resounding yes.
    My fitness buddy, Clayton, laughed his ass off when I declined a night of picking up chicks because I had an early yoga session in the morning. Called me a host of offensive pansy-assed names and agreed to come over instead and knock back a couple beers and eat some Chinese while we watched the latest football game. That’s when he made a point to dig for information. Finally, under duress, I admitted I’d met a girl. He was very interested in the fact that she taught yoga. In his experience, chicks that did yoga were known to be flexible and he’d dated a yogi before who was able to bend her body in ways that the memories still made his dick hard. Only apparently that chick was a fire alarm level clinger.
    With men, there was a code—at least with my friends and teammates. Some of the guys had the WAGs, which stood for wives and girlfriends. The chicks that came to every home game, some away games, and basically cheered louder than anyone in the crowd. I could dig that. Had mad respect for it. There was a definite advantage to having a woman ready and willing every night versus trolling the crowds looking for a fan who wants to bang and bolt. I’d never been the type of guy that went looking for it, so for us guys who bang and bolt, there was a system. And most of that system determined the level of clinginess a groupie had.
    Fire alarm clinger meant the chick was bat-shit crazy, had graduated to stalker status, called at all hours of the day and night, even when she’d been told it was just a casual hookup. Those were the ones we had to warn our security about.
    Genevieve didn’t share any of those traits. If anything, she was the exact opposite of every female I’d ever met. Women fell all over themselves trying to go out with me. Everyone but the woman I wanted, the one who was currently avoiding all eye contact.
    “Gumdrop, what’s the matter? You’ve been weird. Did someone piss in your Cheerios?”
    For the first time throughout the entire session, her eyes met mine. Those espresso-colored orbs seemed skittish.
    “Hey, did I do something to offend? I mean, I know I crack jokes during some of the poses, but it’s all in jest. Helps me get through the difficult ones.”
    Her shoulders slumped, and she lowered her head. “No. Not at all. You were actually more focused today than you’ve been all week. It’s just that I was wondering…” Her voice fell off, and she twisted her fingers. The typical strong, compelling woman had left the building, and a nervous, fragile, almost frightened one had taken her place.
    The caveman in me wanted to yank her into my arms, tuck her chin into my neck, and kill anything that made her afraid. “Go ahead, gumdrop. Ask me anything.”
    “You can totally say no, but you see, I was