The Friends We Keep

Marie laughed. “I don’t see that happening, either.”


For a second, Gabby thought about telling her mom about Makayla and Boyd and the kiss. Her gut told her she wasn’t making too big a deal of it, but Andrew insisted all was well and Makayla had accepted her punishment without a whimper. Maybe she should just keep quiet and be grateful she hadn’t discovered them doing anything worse.





Chapter Nine

Tuesdays and Thursdays, Nicole taught the late-afternoon class. Cecelia picked up Tyler from his summer camp, took him home and got dinner started. By the time Nicole had wrapped things up and driven across Mischief Bay, it was usually close to six when she walked in the door. But still a much better arrangement than when she’d been teaching until seven or eight at night.

In the early days of her separation from Eric, she’d had a nanny—at Eric’s insistence. Nicole had kept her until she’d been able to cut back her own work hours. Not only wasn’t she the nanny type, she preferred to take care of Tyler herself.

Her cell phone chirped and she glanced down to see she had a text from Gabby.

Checking in to say hi, her friend typed.

I’m good. Anymore kissing?

Not that I’ve seen. What about you? Any kissing at all?

Nicole chuckled. Very funny. No and no. Did I mention no?

LOL. TTYS

She put down her phone and checked to make sure the right play mix was in place. She’d changed it out for her own workout earlier. She had a feeling that her clients wouldn’t really appreciate her strange combination of country and rap. It was confusing at best.

Several clients strolled in. She greeted them. Her Tuesday-Thursdays four-o’clock session was a mat class, done with minimal equipment. Some people thought that made it easier and maybe in some places it was. But not at Mischief in Motion. She prided herself on a killer workout. People were taking time out of their lives and paying money for their workout. She made sure they limped away knowing they’d gotten the best bargain possible.

“Hey, Judie,” she called as a pretty blonde with brown eyes walked in. “How’s it going?”

“Great. I’m ready for you to kick my butt.”

Nicole grinned. “You’ll be kicking your own butt.”

“I really hope you mean that as a figure of speech and not literally.”

“You’ll have to wait to find out.”

A couple more clients walked in, followed by the one person Nicole had never, ever expected to see in her studio again. Jairus wore loose jersey shorts over fitted bike shorts, and a T-shirt. He had on sandals, but carried a pair of Pilates socks in his hand.

“I called earlier,” he said. “I was told I could be a walk-in if the class wasn’t full.”

Nicole opened her mouth, then closed it. No. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t take a class.

She wanted to say she was full. That he had to go away, only the mats were laid out on the floor and it was obvious that two were empty. As it was 3:59, the odds of anyone showing up in the next eight seconds seemed slim.

She wanted to say the class would be a hundred and fifty dollars. Or five hundred. Or whatever number it was that would make him go away. Behind her she heard low rumbling. No doubt the women were upset that there was going to be a guy in class. A man always changed the dynamics, and generally not in a happy way. She didn’t know what to say, what to think and she really, really hated how deep down in her chest there was the smallest little ping of interest.

“Have you been to a Pilates class before?” she asked.

“Never. I run and lift weights.”

“Interesting but not useful. You’re going to be sore tomorrow.”

“I’ll risk it.”

His dark, curly hair was too long and he hadn’t shaved that day. He should have looked scruffy, only he didn’t. He looked...good.

She pointed to the empty mat on the end. “We need to get started.”

He nodded and walked across the studio. He kicked off his sandals, then faced the six women already sitting on their mats.

“Ladies, I’m sorry to invade your class like this. I promise, it won’t be a regular thing.”

Judie raised her eyebrows. “So we should pretend you’re not here?”

“That would be great.”

Nicole stood in front of her class. If she turned just a little to her left, she barely had to see Jairus. She told herself he was just another student. She would do what she always did.

“We’ll start with the hundred,” she said.

Jairus had put on his Pilates socks. He glanced at the other women and assumed the same position—balanced on his butt, his arms straight, legs straight and raised.

“Tummies in and up,” Nicole said. “Begin.”