Chapter 1: Serenity
With one of my playlists blaring out of the speakers embedded all around my studio, I rock out to an 8D mix of ‘Closer’. The music bounces around the room from speaker to speaker, making my brain light up from its energy—something I severely need right now.
Setting the last of the eco-friendly yoga mats in the baskets at the back of the room, I straighten up and lift my hands above my head, arching back and hearing a series of cracks pop along my spine. "Oh, wow. I needed that," I say to myself, breathing out as I shift forward and just let my arms hang, trying to realign myself after a day filled with setting up my yoga studio. I've been at it non-stop ever since my deliveries turned up this morning, and now that it's late afternoon, my stomach is grumbling up a storm. I'm starving.
Well, not starving by any true sense of the word. I'm probably the curviest yoga instructor in a hundred-mile radius. But since I'm all about loving your body instead of hating the skin you live in, I like to make sure I eat well. Food brings joy, after all.
My eyes close as the song changes and the music flows all around me.
"I think it's time for a coffee and something sweet," I say to myself since no one else is around and I kind of like chatting away regardless of my alone status.
Swinging my hips from side to side, I make my way over to the tiny kitchenette in the back of the studio and grab a coffee mug from the shelf. However, the moment I take the jar of instant coffee down, I stop myself, remembering the cute little bakery a few doors down. I'll bet they sell proper coffee there, and I’m sure I'll find myself a delicious treat or two as well.
Grabbing my purse, I push my dark bangs away from my eyes and check my appearance before I head out the door, finding a ‘sorry I missed you’ card shoved in the mail slot.
“What? I was here the whole time,” I groan, shoving the card in my purse before locking the door behind me and deciding I’ll head to the post office after I get some food.
"Oh, wow." I lift my nose and scent that delicious bakery smell the moment I step outside, and my stomach rumbles loudly. Brownies and fresh bread if I'm not mistaken. Yum! I make a beeline for the pink building and push through the doors eagerly.
"Hi there!" the adorable woman standing behind the counter says as soon as I'm through the door. "Welcome to Baked with Heart! I'm Yvette, the baker here. You look new to Whisper Valley."
With a friendly smile, I step toward her. “Good catch. I’ve just moved here from Candy City. I’m opening the yoga studio a few doors down.”
“Oh! I saw the work getting done on that. What made you decide to set up shop here?”
“In Whisper Valley? Or this close to a bakery?”
Some people might think it's crazy to open a yoga studio so close to a bakery--kind of like I'm setting my clients up to fail or point out to the bakery customers that they should be working out more. But my decision was neither of those things. It was simply the only available space in town that suited my needs. And honestly, being this close to a bakery definitely suits my needs.
Yvette laughs. “Whisper Valley.”
"Gosh, I don’t know. I wanted to get away from the big city vibe, and this is one of the few towns of its size without a yoga studio, so I felt like it was a good fit.”
She looks at me with a beaming smile as she nods like she understands. “That’s exactly how I came to open this place.”
“Yeah? Well, this place is great. I cannot wait to try your...everything," I start, eyeing off all the delicious treats in the glass display case. "You know, I can smell how good your baking is a few doors down, and I can't for the life of me decide where to start."
The blonde woman giggles, smoothing her hands over her wide hips to straighten out her apron. "I hear that comment a lot. So often that I have a tasting plate available. Would you like to try that?"
"Oh my gosh. Yes!" I say, feeling grateful that my decision is now a hundred times easier. "That sounds amazing. Can I get a coffee too? Latte with an extra shot of espresso in there."
"Coming right up. You'll be abuzz for hours," she says, getting to work.
"That's the goal. I've got a lot of work to get through before I open for business tomorrow morning."
"You open that soon? Wow. I hope the opening goes great for you."
"Thank you. I’m trying to keep it nice and serene. I want it to feel as welcoming as possible. I'm trying to dispel the myth that you have to be tall and lithe to be a yogi. Two things of which I am not."
Yvette giggles again. "Me too, girl. Me too!"
"You should come to a class," I say, accepting the coffee she hands to me in a white ceramic mug with the name of the shop etched into the side of it. "No charge for the first one. Kind of a try before you buy thing."
"Yeah? Gosh. I don't think I've ever even considered yoga. I feel like I'd get myself all tangled up and fall on my face!"
"I promise you, I fell over hundreds of times while I was learning. But my beginner class is very gentle, and I teach modified moves for anyone who needs them."
She bites her bottom lip for a moment, obviously considering my offer while she sets up the tasting plate for me with a delicate hand. "OK then," she says finally, meeting my eyes with a grin on her face. "I'd love to give yoga a go. But can I bring a friend or two? I know at least three women who'd be more than excited to come along and support a fellow curvy girl."
"That would be amazing. The more the merrier." I pull my wallet from my purse, but she waves me off.
“No charge for the first taste,” she says with a smile, so instead, I hand her a business card with the name of the studio on it.
"Here's my card with all the class info and my number. Come to whichever one you and your friends like."
"Sounds perfect! Thank you, ah..."
"Serenity," I say, holding out my hand to shake hers. "Serenity by name, serene by nature. And thank you. I’m about to get the energy hit of my life."
Giggling, she pushes the tray laden with my food toward me. “Well, it’s been lovely meeting you, Serenity. Come by any time. I’d love it if we could be friends.”
A massive grin curves my mouth. “I’d really love that too, Yvette. Thank you.”
Chapter 2: Nelson
Shifting my truck into park, I pull on the handbrake and glance over at the post office with a grunt. It's always so damn busy in there, and I hate busy. Busy means people, and people and I don't mix. If I had it my way, I'd never have to be around another human besides family again. It’s not even like anything terrible happened to make me like that either, I simply don’t enjoy the hustle and bustle when I can have peace and quiet instead. But when you pull a shotgun on the delivery guy by mistake one time, it turns out they become unwilling to deliver to your mountain cabin. Now I have to come into town at least once every couple of weeks to get my mail. It puts me in a bad mood.
Opening the door, my well-worn boot hits the road, and as my head rises above the roof of my truck, a mother gasps and pulls her child as far away from me as possible. I make eye contact with her and curl my lip. Not because I want to scare her—well, maybe I do a little—but because I hate that just because I'm huge and a little rough around the edges I get treated like a monster. If they bothered to give me even a tiny chance, they'd find out I'm actually a pretty decent guy. No wonder I don't come into town much.
I do my best to mind my own business as I wait in line once I'm inside. By the time I reach the counter, they already have my mail prepared, held together tightly with a red rubber band.
“Here you go, Mr...V...Val...Valentine,” the clerk stammers out.
He sets the mail on top of a small parcel and pushes it all toward me, his eyes locked on mine like he's petrified I’ll do something terrible if he looks away. What am I to this guy? A velociraptor or something? I don't even think I've met this kid before. But hey, my reputation obviously precedes me.
“Thanks,” I grunt, scooping up my mail then abruptly turning around, ignoring the whispers and stares from this small selection of the citizens of Whisper Valley. There's supposed to be this thing called small-town hospitality, but I guess they skipped that when it came to tolerating me. Every other Valentine in town though? They absolutely love them. But then, there's a lot of alcohol flowing whenever they're around since they run the local bar.
Pushing through the door back into the street, I flick through my mail, separating the bills from the junk while also wondering what the hell is in the package I've got under my arm. It's pretty hefty, and there's a scent coming from it that seems kind of sweet and floral. Weird.
I shove the mail I intend to keep in my back pocket and place the junk between my teeth as I shift my attention to the box. But I don't get to the examining part before a soft wall of flesh collides with my hard one and causes the whole lot to go clattering to the ground. I'm pretty sure I hear something breaking there.
“What the hell?” I grumble, spitting tiny bits of junk mail from my tongue since I seem to have managed to bite off a chunk of pamphlet.
“Oh, God. I'm so sorry,” the brunette gasps, crouching to the ground and scooping up the fallen mail. She shakes the box and grimaces as she hands it back to me. “I hope it's supposed to sound like that.”
I growl because it is not supposed to sound like that at all—not that I know what it is. I just know that it didn't sound like that before.
“Why weren't you watching where you were going?” I snap.
Pale blue eyes look up at me from behind too-long bangs, and suddenly my chest goes tight. I can barely breathe. What the…
“I'm really sorry,” she says again. “I’ll pay for any damage I caused. I've just…I've got a lot on my mind, and I suppose I was off with the fairies.”
“Well, try staying with the humans in future.” I step to the side, intent on getting back to my truck, but the air-sucking woman with long, silky dark hair and sinful curves feels the need to follow me.
“Why would I do that?” she says. “This world is full of rules and responsibilities but in here” —she taps her head—“anything is possible.”
I glance at her across the hood of my beat-up truck. “Guess I'll take your word for it,” I say, tossing the package in my truck before getting in after it and taking off, adjusting the uncomfortable ache between my legs as I do.
