Page 46 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

And then she moves. Quick as a flash, she stomps on my foot, her elbow jabbing back hardenough to make me loosen my hold. She turns in my arms, facing me now, breathless, her hands braced against my chest.

We don’t move.

Her lips part slightly, her eyes flickering to my mouth. My pulse pounds. This is the moment where I should step back, remind her this is just training. But neither of us does. “How was that?” she asks.

She beams up at me, triumphant, and God help me—I want to kiss her.

I clear my throat, willing my heartbeat to slow. “Not bad,” I say gruffly.

Her brow lifts. “Not bad? Come on. I nailed that and you know it.” She raises a triumphant fist in the air. “Thinking and strategy for the win!”

She’s enjoying this.

And God help me, so am I.

“Fine. You were right. I guess. You’re actually not bad,” I tell her.

She beams. “You sound surprised.”

I snort. “That’s because Iamsurprised.” Because Allie is soft and sweet and belongs in warm kitchens filled with the smell of freshly baked cookies, not in situations where she has to fight. But seeing her like this—fierce, determined—does something to me.

Something I can’t afford to feel.

I clear my throat. “Okay, a few more things. What do you do if someone puts you in the trunk of a car?”

She presses her lips together in thought for a moment before her eyes go wide. “Oh wait! I know this one! You kick out the taillight and wave at drivers behind you.”

“Correct.” Color me surprised again.

“Thank you, Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler!”

Now I’m confused. “Who?”

“The gospel according to Law & Order SVU,” she says, seeming stunned that I don’t know what she’s talking about.

I groan.Of course. Of course she got her information from some TV show. “Okay…but more than just kicking out the taillight and waving, you want to leave breadcrumbs for people searching for you. Toss things out the taillight that are personal effects…a ring, your sock, etc. If it has your DNA on it, even better. The goal is to help authorities find you as fast as possible.

She nods. “Kick out taillight. Wave at cars behind me. Leave breadcrumbs. Got it.”

“What do I do ifI’mthe person tracking down someone else who’s kidnapped?”

I freeze and turn my head slowly to look at her. “What?”

“What do I do if, say,youget kidnapped? How do I find you?”

I snort. “I won’t get kidnapped.”

“Okay, but hypothetically, what if you do?”

“But I won’t.”

“Youcould.”

“No…I couldn’t.”

She huffs a sigh. “Fine. What do I do if my sister gets kidnapped? How do I track her down?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, a headache starting to bloom behind my eyes. “You don’t. You call the police or me and let the trained professionals do the dirty work.”

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