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Before I could mentally dissect why I kept forgetting that little key detail, Jimenez distracted me. “What are we doing here?” He looked from me to Dalton like this had to be a prank.

“Pilates,” I said simply, pointing to the giant sign. His face was priceless. I patted his shoulder, fighting off a smirk. “This is what your core conditioning is missing. It’s great for stability, strength, and balance. It’ll help you on the ice.”

Stephens gave an exaggerated groan, but otherwise didn’t say much. He’d seemed to come around over the last week, no more judgmental remarks about how I might have gotten the job. He’d even asked me to help improve his squat form.

Jimenez shot Dalton a horrified look. “Pilates? Like the shit rich housewives do?”

“Better than pushing weighted sleds, right?” he responded with a shrug. Dalton’s body radiated heat from where he stood behind me, not too close, but it still felt…territorial.

We walked through the door, the little bell over the entrance announcing our arrival as if we needed it.

“If that’s the case, it’s practically a vacation. It was hard to sit down to shit for days after that practice,” Roberts called out, causing the instructor to nearly choke on her water.

“Boys, let’s behave in a way that wouldn’t have your mothers smacking you upside your heads.” I glared at Roberts, who looked at his feet, bright spots of pink staining his cheeks. I turned toward the woman, who looked at us like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, they sometimes forget they need to use manners and not their locker room talk.”

She smiled, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear nervously. “Oh, that’s okay. Welcome everyone. I’m Lisa. Glad to have you in today.” She waved her arm to the side, directing everyone’s attention to the main portion of the studio. “Go ahead and choose a reformer. Your coach has already gotten grippy socks for you all, and each station has been prepped with your props.”

They all stood there awkwardly, eyeing the straps, springs, and pulleys like they were torture devices—which might prove to be true for some of them.

“Hey.” I clapped my hands to get their attention when they still hadn’t moved. “This is still a workout, not an optional activity, so get your asses in gear and act like you’re professional athletes and not a bunch of babies.”

Like a switch had been flipped, they all scrambled to get to a reformer. Lisa smiled shyly, nodding her thanks.

“Be mean to them. They like it,” I said, leaning over so only she could hear.

Her smile widened, and confidence started to take hold. She straightened her back, standing taller as she addressed the group. “Okay, gentlemen, have any of you done Pilates before?”

I rolled my eyes at the cocky snorts, positioning myself at the front of the room so I could assist with form. Of course, Jimenez answered for the group, turning on the charm. “We haven’t, but I’m sure we can handle it, mami,” he said with a wink.

“Well, in that case,” Lisa said, utterly unfazed by his overt flirting,“you should know this class will challenge every muscle you know you have and a shit ton you weren’t aware of.” She walked over toward the front of the room, a pep in her step.

Dalton settled onto his reformer with ease, looking at me with a challenging glint in his eyes, while Jimenez and Roberts snickered to one another as they put their socks on.

“This is gonna be easy,” Jimenez called out, slinging his arm across his chest in an exaggerated stretch.

These poor, ignorant souls. They had no idea the pain they were in for…

We were barely thirty minutes into the class, and every one of my players had a different expression of regret plastered across their faces.

“Keep your core tight. Drop it lower, boys. That front knee should be at ninety,” I called out, watching them struggle. “Roberts, those weights are supposed to be out in front of you.”

Lisa giggled as I reached for his arm, guiding them up toward where they should be. He let out a groan that sounded like he was dying.

“Oh my god, this is…impossible. When did three pounds get so fucking heavy?” he gasped, his face red with exertion.

Beside him, Jimenez said every expletive he knew in English and Spanish. “Coach, this is some medieval torture. Why are my legs shaking like this?” He pulled the carriage back so he could come out of the lung and looked down at his limbs in horror. “The sides of my ass cheeks hurt.”

“Get back into it, Jimenez,” Lisa called out from where she was demonstrating the move, looking like she was out for a walk in the park while the guys were at death’s door. The shy girl from earlier was nowhere to be seen. She was running this class like a drill instructor, and I loved every second of it.

“Come on, we’re going to pulse it,” she shouted. A laugh burst from my lips at the protests from everyone on the team. “For ten, nine, eight⁠—”

“Bro, there is no way,” Roberts called out, face twisted in pain while she continued to count down.

Dalton moved through the exercises with steady concentration, but I could see the strain tightening his jaw. The sweat beading up along his brow.

“Up two inches, down two inches,” I said, pressing my fingers to the crease behind his knee, ignoring the flutters at how close I was to his half-naked body. He’d ditched his shirt at some point, and I’d been actively ignoring him, because every time I looked at his body, all I could picture was him using those broad shoulders to hold my legs open and using that ton⁠—

“You this mean to all your boyfriends?” The deep rumble of Dalton’s voice cut off my fantasy, and I squirmed under his attention. God, did he know what I was thinking about? His eyes sparkled with amusement, making my stomach flip and heat shoot straight to my core.