Page 39 of Stay this Christmas
To the point, even if my confidence had all been a sham.
I stepped forward, drawing her attention to me. Relief crashed over her features, and she broke into a huge smile as she rushed my way. My heart spasmed in my chest that she would find any kind of comfort in being with me. A week ago, she would have run in the other direction.
“This is going to be interesting,” she said under her breath.
“You aren’t kidding.”
“Maybe I should have tried something easier.” Her voice came out barely a whisper. “Something less…dangerous.”
I wouldn’t have called half these guys dangerous-looking, but a few qualified. Lots of tattoos and exposed muscles in the room right now. Two women stood off to one side, but they didn’t soften the vibe of the room.
“Hey.” I leaned closer, drawing her eyes to mine. “You’ve got this.”
Despite the worry still lighting her eyes, a little smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I’ve got this.”
Eventually, a muscled-out guy who looked like a tatted-up Superman complete with an unruly curl over his forehead led us onto the gym floor. He introduced himself as Owen, and went through his introductory spiel about gym safety and etiquette. I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention, since I’d worked in a gym a few years back. Mostly, I just watched Harper.
She listened to every word he said, cataloguing it all away as though this were a life-or-death situation. Then again, he talked as if it could be. She’d opted for the Mixed Martial Arts kickboxing intro instead of the cardio kickboxing one, and Owen laid everything out as though we would be using these skills to protect ourselves in a bar fight in the near future.
Or possibly to start a bar fight—he sort of left the option open.
We threw punches and kicks in the air for a while, practice rounds to get a feel for the method before we actually hit anything. But the class really got into it when half of us held protective pads for our partners to strike, the room suddenly filled with the noise of thumps and slaps as we went to town. The little smile on Harper’s face as she jabbed away at the pad I held made my stupid heart sing. Clearly enjoying herself, she put everything she had into her imaginary fight, and I had to brace myself against the blows.
She hadn’t lost her ability to throw a punch, that’s for sure.
We switched off every few minutes to make sure we’d all have plenty of opportunity to test out the moves. When it came my turn to punch, I didn’t like the idea of putting a whole lot into it. I jabbed a few times at the wide pad she held and worked up a couple of half-hearted roundhouses. We weren’t really here for me, anyway.
Her frown sank lower and lower with every strike. “Why are you pulling your punches?”
I dragged a forearm across my face. “I’m not.”
“You so are. I hit you ten times harder than this.”
“You’re a tough woman.”
Her scowl deepened. “You’re not going to hurt me, Sam.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
Actually, one hundred percent worried about that. She wasn’t fragile, but I wasn’t eager to test that theory, either.
“Do this for real,” she said, “or I’ll add another Christmas activity to your list.”
I lifted my hands, safely encased in their open-fingered gloves. Couldn’t think of one interaction we’d had where I hadn’t surrendered to her. “Good to know you still fight dirty.”
She returned my teasing grin, and my stomach dove like I’d missed a step.
“Only when I have to.”
Under threat of more Christmas-themed punishments, I put enough into my kicks and punches she didn’t question it. After a while, we switched off again, and Harper showed no mercy in pummeling the pads I held, like she had to show me up. Which she fully did, staring down at her target as though she might rip the thing apart.
Owen moved through the students, offering advice on style and form the way I sometimes did during yoga classes. When he reached Harper, he watched her go through her routine longer than seemed totally necessary, following her movements. I held the pad handles a little too tight, watching him watch her.
I didn’t like this guy. Not at all.
“You want to punch from here.” He moved right up close to her, taking her arm in his hands and touching muscles in her shoulder and back. “Use your whole upper body, not just your biceps.”
Harper’s eyes tracked the way his fingers moved on her arm. Out of breath, her chest heaved, her exposed skin glistening with sweat. Meanwhile, seeing his hands on her made the blood pound in my veins, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. He had about five seconds before his little demonstration crossed the line from helpfulness over into obnoxiousness.
