Page 80 of My Rose

He tucked the pillow under his arm and moved to shift my hips back to how he had them before he made me forget I had hips in the first place. But this time he was quick and to the point.

I frowned.

“Keep those elbows tucked, and as much as you love to stick your chin up when you tell me off, I’m going to need you to keep that chin down.” He imitated a slow swing, stopping right under my jaw. When he reached my chin, his knuckles caressed the spot. “I hope you never have to use anything I’m teaching you today.” His jaw flexed, the hard lines of his face more outlined with the stubble. Somehow, it didn’t hide his features, it just made them pop more. And to think, at one point there were two men who looked just like him.

“I, personally, can’t wait to test it out.” Briggs’ eyes narrowed on me as his hand dropped back to his side, but I shrugged and continued. “Say I’m at the museum one day and someone comes in to steal something. You know, like I’m staying overnight to archive some ancient, recently discovered artifact, but then the alarms go off and suddenly three men dressed in all black are dropping down from the ceiling.”

He dropped his head, his palm covering his face. “Rose, that only happens in movies.”

“I know.” I waited for his eyes to fall back on mine, hoping I’d see a smile that matched mine. “I just wanted to mess with you.”

“Your humor is by far—”

“One of my best attributes?” I finished.

His gaze roamed from my eyes straight to my lips, then to my chest. “You have a lot of great attributes. I would have a hard time picking yourbest.”

“Well, I guess—”

“I’d have to say your mouth is probably my favorite.” Yep, that made my cheeks heat too much. I didn’t want him to clarify if it was the words I said from my mouthor if it was what I did to him with my mouth that he liked so much. Because it was possibly both.

I jutted my chin toward the pillow still under his arm. “Are you going to stop talking so much with yours and teach me now, or what?”

Briggs’ entire face lit up. “That’s my girl.” He raised the pillow and waved his hand, beckoning me to punch it.

“I’m ready to tell you my list of things I’m angry about.”

“Tell me.” My fist made contact, and my fingers twinged in pain. Briggs noticed. “But next time you punch, turn your fist and aim with your middle knuckle like this.” He set the pillow down on the floor, and I struggled to focus on the way his fist was turning as he demonstrated, the corded muscles of his arms flexing in ways that should be illegal. “When you throw your left hand, turn your leg, and when you throw your right, step forward.” He demonstrated that as well, and even though I knew what he was saying was important, I could hardly focus enough to take it all in. “Do you need me to show you again?”

“No, I got it,” I lied. When he picked up the pillow, I tried to mimic as much as I could recall, letting my pent-up anger fuel me.

“Rose, your positioning is wrong.”

“More correct posture later. Let me get my anger out.” I threw punches between my next words. “Like. You. Said.”

He groaned as I threw another sloppy punch at the pillow. I was starting to get why coming here helped him so much. “Start with that list, then.”

“For one, what did you mean when you said you own Jim’s Store?” I realigned my fist, staring at my middle knuckle as I thrust it forward.

“I mean, I bought it.”

I laughed but felt no humor. “So, what?” I punched the pillow again, smiling as I saw Briggs reposition his stance from my punch. “You can not only afford to buy a town, but you actually fucking did it? How many places do you own in this town, Briggs?”

He was silent for a moment, and I took that time to throw a few more solid punches, the pain from hitting wrong the first time quickly subsiding as my middle knuckle took the brunt of the force. “I own Jim’s, this place, and a few other places. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Why would you buy in Shuster? There’s nothing out here, and isn’t VanLuxe in New York City over an hour away?” His jaw worked as he glanced just past my shoulder, unable to meet my eyes. “I need an answer.” I stopped punching and put my hands on my hips.

“It was a good investment,” he said. “Try punching with your right.”

“No,” I replied defiantly. “And I don’t buy your answer, but I have more questions, so I’ll just move on anyway.” I blew air up to move the damp hair from my forehead. It was hot, and with the amount of force I was putting into every punch, I was only going to sweat more. Which was perfect because what better way to get more answers than to do what I did next?

“Rose, what are you doing?”

“It’s hot, so I’m getting comfortable.” I finished pulling the hem of my shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor. His throat bobbed as he took me in.

“Two can play that game.” He dropped the pillow, and I gawked as he removed his sweater. “You’re right, thisismore comfortable.”

“Jerk,” I muttered, trying not to look at any exposed part of him.

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