It Takes Two by Erin Nicholas Page B

There was more than one kind? He had no idea what to think about the first kind.
    Emma shook her head. “No. Never mind.”
    “But she’s serious about it?” he asked. “Like she means it? This is a real thing to her? Sitting at home on the couch and knitting for hours?”
    “Yes,” Emma said. “It’s very serious. But I can’t get into all that right now. Class is starting.”
    “Class? I thought you were done.”
    She brightened. “Oh, just one more. This is a special session.”
    The look on her face—mischief, pure and simple—made Shane sigh.
    “You’re thinking I’m joining this special session?”
    “You can watch if you want,” Emma moved to lock the front door. “But it might be good for you.”
    “Yoga’s a little—calm—for me,” Shane said.
    “Yeah. No kidding. Exactly what this session is about.”
    She opened the tall white French doors at the end of the room. “Come on.”
    “Maybe I don’t want to talk to you this bad,” Shane said, starting after her anyway.
    “But you do,” she said confidently. “Quit being a baby.”
    Being a part of Isabelle’s life meant putting up with Emma on a regular basis. While they had a lot in common, Emma Dixon could wear even him down.
    Shane followed her through the doors that opened into a huge inner room with twenty-foot ceilings, a light-colored wood floor and a mirror that took up an entire wall.
    The most interesting thing in the room, however, was the collection of people gathered for the “special session”. That they were all men was note-worthy. More so was the fact that Shane knew them all.
    “Hey, buddy!” Ryan called in greeting. “Emma said you were coming but I didn’t believe her.”
    More specifically, Shane was shocked to realize that all the class participants were paramedics at St. Anthony’s who worked with Ryan and Conner. They were all members of Sam Bradford’s crew—including Sam.
    Ryan was positioned up in front of the group, sitting on a thin purple foam mat, seemingly in charge.
    “Yeah, well, Em left out a few important details,” Shane said. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”
    “Yoga,” Dooley Miller said with a shrug. “We have very high-pressure jobs, you know.”
    Emma handed Shane a rolled-up mat. “They’re learning stress reduction, how to quiet their minds, how to focus their positive energies.”
    Shane looked down at the mat. “Uh, no.” As a cop he needed the edge that came with the stress and pressure. And he certainly couldn’t look at the criminals he handled with “positive energies”, whatever that was. He couldn’t—and didn’t want to—go soft.
    “Kelley, get your ass over here,” Kevin Campbell called. “You need to relax as much as any of us.”
    Shane shook his head. “Being wound up keeps me sharp.”
    Emma shrugged and moved into a spot between Mac Gordon and Sam Bradford. “No yoga, no advice,” she said simply.
    Shane gripped the soft foam in his hand.
    Dammit.
    He didn’t want to breathe deep and stretch and he definitely didn’t want this to be a group therapy session. “We can do the advice another time,” he said, tossing the mat aside.
    “Kelley.” Mac stretched to his feet.
    The guy was as big as Shane, even wider through the shoulders.
    “You’re staying.”
    Shane lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”
    Mac was big but he was also more than a decade older than Shane. If nothing else, Shane could outrun him. He was pretty sure.
    “You’ve now seen all of us here, getting ready for yoga,” Mac said. “I can’t let you leave until I’m sure that you won’t tell anyone.”
    Shane snorted. “No one would believe me anyway.”
    At least they were all dressed in shorts and T-shirts. The only leotard in sight was the one on Emma. And she wore it well.
    Mac put his hands on his hips. “Get your mat. If you’re doing it too, you won’t be blabbing about it.”
    “But—”
    Kevin got to his feet too. He was leaner than Mac but he’d played