“Ha!”

“Why is that so funny?” she asks, pulling the elastic tie off her wrist and securing her long brown hair up into a pony.

I toss the shirt onto the bed. “Because I’m not crashing a pregnant yoga party. Being around a bunch of knocked-up, spouse-happy women is just going to annoy me further.”

“There’s only, like, two or three pregnant women in the whole class, including me, and trust me—” she pauses, picking up the shirt and tossing it at my face, “—you’re gonna thank me for this invite.”

“Why?” I ask, as she turns and exits the room with a smile on her face. “Is there going to be hard liquor there? Or maybe a life-sized cut-out of Luke I can throat punch?”

“Shut up and get dressed. You’re going!” she yells from somewhere in my apartment.

“Since when did you become so bossy?”

I hear a muffled, mouthful response, followed by a chip bag ruffling as I look down at the tank top in my hand.

What are my options? Stay here, pout, and eventually get some transcribing done, or be with my best friend, twist my body into positions that usually require a man, and hopefully get my mind off all things Luke related. Mia knows how to distract me, and she definitely has my interest piqued with the whole you’re going to be thanking me later comment. So, I begin stripping, settling on option two, and hoping for at least thirty minutes of relief from the thoughts filling my head.

The fact that the yoga studio just so happens to be at the gym owned by the Ruxton Police Department might make that difficult.

***

“His truck isn’t here. Relax. Him and Ben are probably patrolling,” Mia says as we walk through the gym, her eyes on me while I scan the line of treadmills.

“You couldn’t take a yoga class at another gym?”

“Not when I can go here for free.”

She opens the door to the small studio and I walk in behind her, looking around the room and counting seven very distinct pregnant bellies.

I gesture in front of me. “Really? Two or three? Am I seriously about to attend a pregnancy yoga class?”

She sets her water bottle and small towel down on the bench along the back wall, kicking her flip-flops off and pushing them underneath. “There’s other non-pregnant women here, but yes, things are modified for those of us who are no longer able to see our feet.” She points to the far side of the room. “There’s two mats available next to each other. Let’s grab those.”

“Or,” I counter, planting my ass on the bench and pulling out the phone tucked into my sports bra, “I could sit here and play Fruit Ninja while you learn exercises to prevent pre-term labor.” I’m yanked off the bench and nearly lose my phone in the process. “Jesus! All right.”

I tuck my phone away as we reach the two empty mats. Mia begins stretching out her back, twisting from side to side as I stand there, not feeling any sort of activity that involves moving.

“Can I just sit and watch? We can still talk.”

“Not in my class you won’t be.”

I turn my head, connecting with the steel-blue eyes of the man standing to Mia’s left. If his accent didn’t cause my jaw to nearly hit the mat, the sight of him as he steps in front of us does.

Sweet baby Jesus in a basket.

He’s all long, lean muscle, which is on full display thanks to his decision to not wear a shirt. He has tanned skin, and a sweet smile that hits me when I finally pry my eyes off his damn fine body.

“Mason, hi. How are you?”

He looks back to Mia, but gives me one last glance before he answers. “I’m good, Mia. But more importantly, how are you?” He holds a hand out to her belly, inches away. “May I?”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

I don’t know what to do, so I just stand there, gawking at this sexy-as-fuck Aussie while he rubs his hand across my best friend’s belly. He’s wearing the cutest expression, a mix between fascination and wonderment, as his blond, wavy hair falls out from where it was tucked behind his ear.

“He’s kicking,” he says, moving his hand along the side closest to me. “I think he’s ready for class.”

Mia laughs, hitching her thumb in the direction of me as he straightens up and drops his hand. “Yeah, but this one? Not so much.”

“What?” I ask, sounding shocked by her accusation. “I’m so ready for class. I fucking love yoga. Let’s do this.”

The gorgeous Aussie rubs along his jaw, looking amused, as Mia laughs at my obvious lie.

“Mason, this is my sister in-law, Tessa, and apparently, she fucking loves yoga, all of a sudden.”

He steps closer to me and extends his hand. “Hi, Tessa. I’m excited to have you in my class today.”

My eyes widen as I realize what he’s just said. “Are you teaching? You?”

Oh, hell yes.

He smiles, dropping his hand from mine, and that’s the only response I get before he walks in between the other mats toward the front of the room.

“Holy shit,” I utter under my breath as the room continues to fill, and that’s when I notice the alarming number of women filing in. Herds of them, dressed in cleavage-baring tops and pants that leave zero to the imagination in the snatch department. These ladies are in it to win it, and none of them look like they give a damn about yoga.

“What the hell? I’ve been struggling with getting over Luke for the past year, and you’ve been hiding this guy from me? How long have you known him?” I whisper, eyeing up my competition as two bimbos claim the mats in front of us and obstruct my view entirely.