Declan chuckles with a knowing warmth that makes my skin tingle. “Coach wants you to help me with my flexibility, not yours. Although I’d be happy to help you with yours too, if you want.”

I wince at being called out like that, and bat Ralph away as she sniffs at my phone like she’s curious who it is. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Still sore from all those months ago?”

“Declan,” I warn, ignoring the way my stomach flips over at his words.

He shouldn’t even be talking to me right now—I appreciate my father sending business my way, and it’s not like he had any clue there was already a connection between Declan and me when he did it, but in this case I really wish he’d asked me before he gave Declan my number so I could think about it before I got put on the spot.

Because I’m not sure I can handle being alone in that kind of environment with him. Not after the night we had together. Not when I can still remember exactly how his skin felt against mine, how his breath tickled my neck, how his voice sounded when he whispered in French.

“You’re already imagining me in my yoga pants, aren’t you?” Declan teases, and I flinch because I’ve been imagining him doing a lot of things, but none of them involve clothes.

“I’ve seen you wearing less,” I retort before I can stop myself, then immediately regret it. “I mean… that’s not what I meant.”

“Nah, hummingbird. You meant exactly what you said.” He chuckles, his voice dropping lower. “And if I recall correctly, you weren’t complaining at the time.”

“That was different,” I say, trying to regain my composure. “That was then, this is now.”

“And now your dad wants you to help me with my flexibility. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Declan, that was a one-time thing. It was fun, but that’s… that’s all it was ever supposed to be.”

“Okay, great. Then it shouldn’t be a problem for you to teach me, right?”

I purse my lips, internally debating my answer.

His persistence should irritate me, but there’s something about his confidence that’s both infuriating and intoxicating. He’s like a dog with a bone, and I can just imagine the grin that must have split his face when my father handed my phone number to him, especially after the way I left him high and dry at the arena a few weeks ago the day we first ran into each other.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea for me to give you private lessons,” I say quietly. “I’m sure you know why.”

Declan laughs, the sound vibrating through the phone. “Okay. Do you want to explain to your dad why you won’t teach me, or should I?”