Free Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7) by Anna Katmore Page B

are dark and untamable under her hair, which is now wild after she tossed it backward when coming up from the first stretching pose. “Good. Because we’re going to roll our hips next. Maybe you want to join us?”
    I bite my lip harder. “No, I don’t think I will. Not today, anyway.” It’s time for me to leave, before the situation inside my pants gets out of control. I rise and step down from the bench, tucking my hands into my pockets and pressing the heel of my hand against my beginning erection.
    For the briefest moment, Chloe’s gaze drops to my hips. I know she can’t see anything out of place, and yet I wouldn’t bet my bike that she doesn’t know. She winks at me before I go, and it makes me chuckle.
    A quick jump in the lake is probably the best I can do now.

Chapter 6
     
    Chloe
     
    Dance club, my ass. Justin better come up with something else if he wants me to be involved in camp activities. It’s not my fault he assigned soccer to pimple-faced Greyson.
    After five minutes of stretching, and when the jerk is finally gone, I sit back down on the table and tell the kids to do freestyle again. Putting on the sunglasses I’ve brought, I lean back and brace myself on my elbows, glancing up into the flawless sky. There’s no sign of the rain clouds of last night; everything has dried up again. In fact, it’s way too hot, and I start sweating while lying here. At least my tan will deepen this way, so perhaps all isn’t lost.
    A small cough drags me out of my tanning musings. Pulling my attention out of the clouds, I nail a cool stare on the girl with long, angel-like locks in front of me. A giant strawberry is centered on her orange T-shirt. She holds my gaze, though, apart from a little quiver, her lips aren’t moving.
    “What’s up, Blondie?” I ask.
    She clears her throat again. Her hands are awkwardly clasped in front of her waist. If she were to start digging a hole in the dirt with her toe now, she’d have me completely convinced she’s scared of me.
    “Well?” I prompt, lifting my brows behind my shades.
    “I was wondering if…perhaps…”
    Okay, this is getting frustrating. I sit up and take my sunglasses off. “Perhaps what?”
    After a third cough, which hopefully gives her enough courage to finally spit out whatever is on her mind, she starts rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet and forces a little, shy smile. “You don’t seem to like dancing, and I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like some help?”
    “Help?” My eyes grow wider.
    “Yes. I thought I could—”
    “You think you can help me?” That’s ridiculous. What on earth could a kid do to take the burden of supervising the lot of them off of me? Then again, maybe I should hear her out. Justin was right. I don’t want to sit here every morning and have this uncoordinated bunch jiggling in front of me. I get down from the table, folding my arms in front of my chest. “How?”
    Her smile disappears. She backs away a step. “I— We learned these dances at school. It’s called Zumba. If you let me use your iPod to find the right songs on iCloud, I could show the others some choreos.”
    One arm still around me, I brace the elbow of my other on it and tap my forefinger on my lips. She really wants to take over instructing the group? That’s probably the best chance I have. So, after a moment of thinking, I swipe my arm to the side, pointing at the iPod I borrowed from Julie, and tell Blondie, “It’s all yours.”
    Warily, she walks to the table but keeps me in her sight until she picks up the device and starts searching for that song she needs. It doesn’t take her long to find it. After setting up the new music, some Latin American song I’ve never heard before, she turns to the other girls. Suddenly, they are all excited.
    I sit back down and watch my new assistant with intrigue, while she shows the others some easy steps and movements. She’s really good at it, too. At least the kids seem to like