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“You should consider supplementing your Taekwondo with some more HTH. Hand-to-hand. To take some pressure off your ankle.”
I frown up at him. “Okay.” I fold my arms again. “I guess you’re going to volunteer to teach me. What kind of martial arts do you know, sensei?”
He shrugs. “A mix.”
“Like…?”
“Kali. Krav Maga. Judo, Jiujitsu, Aikido. And Taekwondo. I learned that first, in high school. We focus on a lot of different things for CQC. Close quarters contact. So I know a little of them all.”
“Well, shit.”
He winks.
“So you’re an expert.”
He shrugs.
“And you can teach me…what?”
“I can teach you quicker, safer ways to take someone down—yeah. So you don’t have to risk your ankle.”
“Really? That would be awesome.”
He nods, a little on the slow side.
“Well, when can we get started?” I smile.
He shrugs. His eyes find the porch floor, then return to mine.
“Now?” I laugh. “Just kidding. What about tomorrow?”
His brows lift. Agreement? I assume so.
“Anytime is probably okay for me, and any day. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow. Or ever. You may be busier than I am,” I say.
“I doubt that.”
“Well tell me when. I’ll bake another cake. Then we can trade.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Okay, no cake. Would you rather have cinnamon rolls or brownies?”
He looks down at his hands, still in his pockets. He presses his lips together. His eyes return to mine. “What’s your favorite?” he asks, looking thoughtful.
“I’m a cupcake person.”
“Do that, then.”
He steps back toward the door and rakes a hand through his hair.
“Let me give you my phone number,” I say. “That way you can text me when you’re ready.”
“What’s your number?”
I rattle it off and wait for him to go inside. Now standing in the doorway, he nods. “Thanks, Gwenna.”
“You can remember it?”
