“I’m not up to it. Besides, it w-won’t help you.”
Wyatt cast a quick glance at the ladies. “Tell him yoga can help us both.”
“Stretching won’t save your ass from a r-rock or tree or cliff dive.” Ryder’s thick voice showcased the anger lurking behind his passive expression. He glanced out the window at the pristine blanket of snow. “This whole plan seems stupid, now. It’s safer to s-stick to what you know.”
The last thing Wyatt needed or wanted this morning was to be told he was stupid by the very person for whom he’d undertaken this challenge in the first place. Wyatt had no idea why Ryder had dug his heels in suddenly, but his criticism caused two years of helplessness, remorse, and exhaustion to explode from Wyatt’s chest. “I’ll tell you what’s stupid—your bad attitude. That sure as shit isn’t going to help me or my confidence, brother.”
“Good, ’cause your plan sucks, and you know it,” Ryder said, thumping his cane against the floor.
Wyatt stepped toward Ryder, fury pouring through his veins like boiling oil, and barked, “For weeks you’ve been on board with this, so what’s changed? I need you to stay on point with me, dammit.”
“You need, you need—” Ryder waved a disgusted hand. “I’m tired. I’m not your p-pet or project.”
“Ryder,” Emma’s gentle voice interrupted. “If you’re too tired to take instruction today, I could really use some company in the kitchen.”
She flashed Ryder a friendly smile, the warm kind Wyatt had seen her bestow on Andy. The fact she didn’t appear to like Wyatt much had really started to bug him.
Ryder’s sunglasses hid his expression. Wyatt’s gaze remained fixed on Ryder, but his brother ignored him. “Okay.”
What the hell? Wyatt didn’t know whether to tell Emma to butt out, or to be impressed with her for jumping in. Before he could decide, she slid him a sideways glance and cocked her brow, signaling that he should let it go. She then returned her attention to Ryder.
“Thanks so much.” Emma’s voice sounded sincere as she moved away from Amanda and Wyatt and gestured toward the kitchen. “I’m thinking spinach omelets, but I haven’t had a chance to make fresh juice. Maybe you can help me pull it all together . . . if that’s something you’d like to do.”
Wyatt stood, dumbfounded, watching his brother and Emma stride off to the kitchen together—to cook, of all things. Bet she’d dance with Ryder in the pantry if he tried.
“Ahem.” Amanda cleared her throat. “We should get started, or we’ll never finish on time.”
He shook his head, as if that could clear his pointless thoughts about Emma or the doubts Ryder’s outburst had unearthed. Drawing a cleansing breath, Wyatt grinned at Amanda. Hopefully forty-five minutes with her would restore his peace of mind and get him prepared for the major day ahead.
Unfortunately, when he descended into downward dog, Amanda placed her hands on his hips and “adjusted” his position, dashing all hopes of concentration and peace of mind. Naturally, she acted as if that contact had been purely for his benefit. However, by the end of the session, she’d managed to make more than a dozen such corrections, none of which his male instructor back home ever seemed to think necessary. At another time and place, he might’ve enjoyed the hottie’s hands all over him, but today they were more annoying than a swarm of mosquitoes.
Although the session had loosened Wyatt’s muscles, tension still clouded his thoughts. Basically, an epic fail in terms of one of his primary goals.
Ryder’s attitude sat at the top of the list of things bugging him, followed by concern about his first training run. And what was up with Emma and her weird attitude toward him? One would think she’d trip all over herself to keep him happy, given what a good review could do for her inn. Instead, she remained timid and almost . . . almost . . . wary. Spooked by his halfhearted flirtations.
“Same time tomorrow?” Amanda asked while rolling up the mats.
“Unfortunately, yes. Sorry for the early hour.” He crossed his arms and kept from doing anything she might misconstrue as an invitation to touch him again.
Apparently she didn’t need an invitation. She tipped her head and rested her fingers on his forearm. “It’s no trouble, really. I’m an early riser.”
Luckily, he heard dishes being laid out in the dining room, which gave him an excuse to walk away. “Well, sounds like it’s time to eat. Have a good day.”
“You, too. Tell Emma I said ’bye.” She wiggled her fingers at him and sashayed out the door.