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“Three.”Thwump.
“Four.” My legs sing with warm blood and power.
“Last one, babe. Give me everything you’ve got. Mr. Miagi lesson three hundred and twelve; leave everything on the mat. Never walk away from a training session with fuel in the tank. Ready?” When I nod, he nods. “Five!”
I gather everything I have and channel it into my hips. Lift my knee, roll my hip, release my leg, and without conscious permission, I release what could only be described as a battle cry as my leg slams down on his ribs.
“Good! So good!” He jumps forward and grabs me up in a giddy hug. “I’m proud of you. I told you you’d be good at this.” I laugh when he lays a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Okay, sit down, stretch out. Then we’re all done for today.”
I flop to the floor dramatically. I should be serious about my stretches, but mostly I want to get up and wiggle my ass.
He’s proud of me?
I’mproud of me!
He stretches over his long legs and touches his toes, but his chocolate eyes don’t leave mine. “How do you feel after that?”
Surely he can tell by my grin. “Good. I was terrified of this, but I’m glad I came.”
“Good. How did you feel about those kicks? You’re pretty tall, I reckon you could get them higher.”
“Definitely. I had heaps of height left.” I smirk at him in challenge. “I can try and get your head on Wednesday.”
He snorts and switches leg. “Okay, scrapper. You’ve set down the challenge. Better back your shit up or I’ll think all your threats are just hot air.”
I roll my eyes and stretch an arm over my head. “Okay.”
“I knew this about you.” He looks up. “I knew you’d be good at this. I look at your legs because I’m a man, but damn, I look at them too, because they could knock a bitch out.”
I choke on my laughter. “Knock a bitch out? Wow. You speak to your mother with that mouth?”
He scrunches his nose, though his eyes twinkle. “She’d never believe you if you told her I said that. You have serious potential, babe. Trust me on this.”
His praise embarrasses me, so I search the mats for dust particles. “Thanks. I had fun.”
“When will you come back?”
“Ah, I’m not sure… You said three days a week, so maybe I’ll come Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I’ll get Jack into classes those days, too.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Okay, that works.”
I frown at his distracted answer. “What days do you come in?”
“I’m here every day.”
“But what days do you train for yourself?”
“Every day. I take a few hours every day for my own stuff.”
My eyes pop wide. “Afew. As in, at least three? Everyday? Shit, Bobby, I just did one single hour and I’m exhausted. You do a couple hours every day,plusclasses? Jesus.”
He shrugs shyly. “This is my job, I’m used to it. As I get closer to a fight, my hours increase. Closer to six or seven hours a day, plus classes.” He looks up at me. “I have one toward the end of this year… A fight, that is.”
“Like a pro fight, on TV?”
“Yeah, on TV.”
He’s turning shy, but I’m starstruck. “That is so cool! Can I bet on you? Is that allowed? Are you allowed to bet on someone you know, or is that like insider knowledge? Will you win? Don’t waste my money. I already lost ten bucks to the knee cappers once. I can’t sustain that kinda loss again.”
