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Jackson chuckles and nods. “Fair enough.”
“We better get started,” Brando says, and motions for me to follow him.
I turn to Luke, fiddling with the hem of my shirt again. “I’ll see you after?”
He nods. “Of course.”
I try to contain my smile and turn and follow Brando inside. I glance back and catch him watching me still, so I turn before he can see me blush again.
Brando takes me into an empty glass-walled room in the corner that looks like it’s used for group classes. He walks over to a stack of dark gray floor mats against the far wall and grabs a couple and tosses them to the floor in front of us. He picks up what looks like a solid tube of black foam about a foot wide and hands it to me.
“Have you ever used a foam roller?”
I shake my head no and he grabs one for himself and drops to the mat closest to him. “This will be your best friend and your worst enemy. It’s for myofascial release, which will help as you build muscle, but will also hurt like a motherfucker.”
“Sounds fun,” I say. He smirks, and I mimic his movements as he shows me how to use the foam roller. It takes about thirty seconds for me to understand what he means. He laughs at my jokes and adjusts me when necessary, and we settle into a comfortable rhythm. I can tell he’s passionate about his job and enjoys helping me.
We spend about twenty minutes using the foam rollers, and I feel like an ironed out shirt when we’re done.
He sits with his legs out and leans on his hands behind him. “So, tell me about the mugging.”
I move into a crossed legged position and face him. “Luke didn’t tell you?”
He shrugs. “I want your version.”
I launch into what happened. He nods along and when I finish, he regards me for a moment. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I’ll show you how to prevent something like that from happening again. But I’ll also help you prepare for the unexpected. I teach self defense in group class, but Luke wants me to teach you in private lessons. If you’re going to do this, I’ll accept nothing less than a one hundred percent commitment. I don’t tolerate bullshit. We’ll meet twice a week and I want you here on your own twice a week, working on building up your strength and stamina. You think you can do that?”
Holy shit. This sounds like a big deal. “Um, I don’t want to put you out, I’m sure you’re busy.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about my schedule. If you’re serious about this, then it’s worth it.”
I blink at his directness as I process what he’s saying. The memory of the mugger pointing the gun at me in the alleyway flashes in my brain. “I’m in.”
He grins and climbs to his feet. He holds his hand out to me and hauls me up. “I’ll set up a workout schedule for you so you’ll have some direction when I’m not around. Now, let’s see what we’re working with.”
Thirty minutes later I’m bent over, gasping for breath. “Cardio. Learn to love it.” I glare at him and he chuckles. He gives me a moment to recover while he puts our equipment away.
“Let’s go take care of the paperwork,” he says. I follow him down a hall. We walk into a small office with two desks. Luke is sitting at one of them. He’s wearing a clean, dry shirt and a smile.
“How’d it go?” he asks.
“She did great,” Brando says, holding his fist out to me. We bump knuckles as I grin at his praise.
Brando sits at his desk next to Luke’s, and I stand in front of it. I shift under Luke’s gaze and will the blood in my face to stay put.
“Shit, sorry.” Luke walks over to a corner and grabs a chair, setting it behind me. I smile up at him as I sit, and he leans against his desk, crossing his arms while Brando types something on his computer.
Brando eyes Luke for a second, then stands. “Hey Luke, would you mind getting Liv signed up? I forgot I had a thing.”
Luke narrows his eyes at Brando, who gives him a pointed look as he moves towards the door.
Brando turns to me. “Luke will give you my number. Text me when you want to meet up again. I’ll have your workout plan ready for next time.”
“Thank you, Brando. I appreciate it.”
He smiles and squeezes my shoulder. “Anytime, killer.”
He disappears, and I turn to Luke, who’s now sitting at Brando’s desk. As I watch him type, I have the urge to run my fingers through his hair. I clasp my hands in my lap in case I get any more wild ideas. This unexplainable pull towards him is intense. I’m not sure how to react.
I sign the paperwork and hand over my credit card, surprised at how affordable the private sessions are. He gives me Brando’s number and I save it on my phone. Our fingers brush when he hands my card back and electricity jumps through my body. He clears his throat and stands.
“Thank you so much for everything, Luke,” I say as I come to my feet.
He smiles and follows me out, grabbing his hat from his desk. He plops it on his head as he falls into step next to me. I glance at him as he stares at the ground in front of him and chews on his lip. We get to the front desk before he speaks, his words coming out in a rush. “Are you busy right now?”
