Page 69 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
“Oh, sweethearts,” Goldie answered with the authority of someone who’d already made a decision. “We volunteer as your elderly tributes!”
“Elderly. Speak for yourself,” Martha grumbled. “I do Pilates three times a week.”
“The rest of the Kingsleys are very interested in joining,” Goldie continued as though Martha hadn’t spoken. “And with Marc and Theo that’ll be eleven.”
“I’m not participating.”
“Sure you are,” Glamma said pleasantly. Almost too sweetly. “How are you ever supposed to understand how it works if you’re standing in the corner with a scowl?”
“I’ve never done yoga. Besides, observing is a better role for me.”
“You will participate,” Glamma corrected.
Marc was already running calculations—his gaze darted around the room—checking for exits he knew weren’t there.
I couldn’t help it. Some responses just needed to be said. “Are you afraid you can’t keep up?” I teased.
His eyes cut to mine. “I run five miles a day. I think I can handle a little stretching.”
Game on.
“Sure,” I said pleasantly. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”
Good. Excellent. This was all very normal, professional almost, with a side of teasing. I was not at all thinking about Marc on a yoga mat while I stood at the front of the room, his body twisting in ways to show off the muscles I knew were hiding underneath his clothing.
I saw a flicker of something that looked like uncertainty in his eyes and decided to relent and be an adult. “We’ll be using beginner poses, anyway. The goal is to observe how the animals react to the various positions. I have plenty of mats, blocks, and straps for when we need modifications.”
“I do love a good strap,” Goldie mused. “There’s something so reassuring about knowing you’re properly held in place. Why, Sam and I used to?—”
“Nope. Absolutely not,” Marc raised his hands, palms out. Hard stop.
Glamma grinned. “He blushes just like his grandfather.”
“He’s very easy to scandalize,” Glamma confided in me. “All the Kingsley men are. I’ve never understood it. Sex is a natural, beautiful part of human connection.”
“A gift, really,” Martha agreed.
“A renewable resource,” Gladys offered.
“I’m changing my phone number,” Marc announced to no one. “I’m moving. I’m going somewhere remote. Somewhere with no roads.”
“New Hampshire is lovely,” Goldie said, and I had to bite my lip to hold back my laughter.
“Goldie,” he said with a warning in his tone. “I do not need to hear about yours and Sam’s sexcapades. Save it for my grandmother.”
She held up her hands in surrender but looked delighted.
“I want to hear about these sexcapades,” I said, because I genuinely did, and also because watching Marc’s expressions cycle through their responses was the most entertainment I’d had in months.
Marc muttered something under his breath.
Goldie patted my arm warmly. “Maybe later, dear. Marc gets all tightly-wound when I discuss intimacy.”
“On that note,” Marc said, already standing. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”
I laughed and looked at the clock on my phone. It was later than I realized. “I should go, too.”
Glamma and the girls waved goodbye but stayed exactly where they were, like they’d staged the departure on purpose. Which maybe they had.
