“Shh,” he says softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I’m shaking, gripping his shirt, with no idea what came over me. I just attacked an innocent man, right outside of the parking lot, for no apparent reason at all. I lift my lashes, and he slowly loosens his grip. The way he’s watching me with genuine concern feels comforting, familiar, safe.
“I … I’m sorry, Luke,” my voice cracks as I try to make sense of why I attacked him. He isn’t the creep pervert with the jacked up, yellow teeth. He’s the person who seems fixed on protecting me. “I don’t know what came over me.”
He scans my face. “You don’t need to explain. I get it.”
“You do?” I ask. “Cuz I don’t.”
He runs a hand through his hair, taking a couple steps backward. He looks stressed.
“Why are you out here?”
“To give you a ride.” His voice is soft. “Now that you know you’re not as tough as you think, will you let me?” There’s that cocky smile I love to hate. “Give you a ride I mean?” He’s right. He dodged everything I threw at him, and I feel stupid.
Resigning, I walk right past him and throw my arms in the air. “Fine. You win. Take me home.”
He snorts. “Thanks for the favor.”
“Anytime. By the way, do you have a car?”
“I’ve got a truck at home. Why?”
“Because I don’t do motorcycles, and I’m not thrilled about riding on yours.”
He looks me up and down, which isn’t a pretty picture. I’m wearing a pair of sweats and a ratty old t-shirt. The corner of his mouth tips. “There’s a first time for everything princess.” He hands me a helmet and helps me place it on my head, securing hit. Then gets on the Harley first and signals for me to get on next.
“Does your girlfriend ride on your bike?” I bat my eyelashes when he turns around to answer me.
“Is that your way of asking if I have a girlfriend?” Cocky son of a bitch!
Giving him a fake smile, I reply, “Only in your dreams, lover boy.”
He flashes his dimples. “Now I know I’m not your type, but you’re gonna have to wrap your arms around me real tightly, all right?”
I roll my eyes.
“I wouldn’t want you falling off.” He winks.
“Real funny,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist.
He starts up the bike then says, “A little tighter.”
Sweat slowly trickles down the top of my lip, leaving a nasty salty taste on my tongue. I hear the sound of a door open and shut then watch him walk to the end of the driveway. He carries soap, a bucket, and a handful of towels, before placing them in a pile on the ground. “Hi,” I yell out.
He responds with a kind smile. “What’s your name?” His eyes are squinting from the brightness of the sun.
“Reese.” I smile back, looking over at the new car parked in his driveway. “Do you drive?”
He nods his head. “Well, I’ve got my permit.”
“Is that your car?” I ask, pointing at it.
“It will be.” His arms stretch back and pull off his shirt, showing off the hard lines of his arms, chest, and stomach. My eyes go wide for reasons I don’t quite understand. All of the sudden, my body feels funny, and I can’t seem to find my voice. I turn around and finish my chores without saying another word. Thinking to myself that he probably doesn’t want to talk to a ten-year-old girl anyway.
When my father comes home he calls me outside. It’s not hard to notice he’s been drinking. “I told you to have your chores done by the time I got home!”
I stand speechless, confused as to why he’s shouting. ”I did them. I’m done,” I stutter, looking around the yard to see what I missed.
“Really?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. I hesitantly nod my head yes. “You lying to me, girl?” His hand lifts to strike me, and I close my eyes waiting for the blow.
“Probably not a good idea to hit your little girl, Mr. Johnson,” the boy interrupts. I open my eyes and stare at my father as his head whips around to face him.
“Mind your own business, if you know what’s good for you, boy. I know who you are,” my father tells him. His voice is hard and scary. I hold my breath, terrified that my father might hurt him.
“It would be a shame if the public found out you’ve been beating your wife and daughter.” My mouth drops wide open in disbelief. I’ve never heard anyone talk to my father this way—let alone a kid—but I like it; I envy him for his courage. My father says nothing in response, but you can tell he’s bothered. Instead, he grabs me by the arm, and pulls me over to a bag of leaves, suddenly reminding me that I forgot to throw it in the garbage can. Pointing to it he asks, “What’s this?”
“I’m s-sorry. I just forgot,” I say, my voice shaking.
“Don’t let it happen again,” he growls then turns around and walks inside. I sigh in relief and look back to silently thank the boy, but to my disappointment, he’s gone. Suddenly, I realize that I never even got his name.
I get up early so I can have more time before my class begins. I want to get a work out in and hit the heavy bag. I’m taken by surprise when I enter the parking lot and see Luke stepping out of a black, older model Chevy truck. He’s wearing gray track pants and a white t-shirt that fits his broad shoulders and chest perfectly. Those seem to be common color choices for him. “Hey.” I smile. “Is that your truck?”
He smiles back. “It is. You sound surprised.” We meet in the middle and walk side by side toward the entrance.
“I just expected you to drive something new, with all the bells and whistles.”
“Oh yeah, why’d you expect that?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I reply, “I don’t know. You just seem like the kind of guy that would want to have it all.” I’m not really sure why I’m making this assumption.
“What kind of guy is that?” He stops, cocking a brow.
“I don’t know, the professional fighter kind, I guess.”
He tilts his head. “Do you know a lot of professional fighters?” His eyes sparkle in amusement.
I open my mouth then shut it, because I don’t. “Okay, you got me. I don’t know any personally. I guess I just assumed.”
“You do that a lot.”
After an hour of cardio, I make my way over to the heavy bag, put on the boxing gloves, and start swinging. This time I try to keep my composure, knowing I could have an audience.
Luke comes over and stands with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall as he watches me. His eyes are intense, as they always seem to be, and I can’t help but find him a little distracting. “Make sure you swing like this,” he says, showing me the proper movement. I watch him, intrigued as he displays the right way to move my body. “I don’t want you to get yourself injured.” His eyes are sincere.
Although I’m embarrassed that I need his help, I swallow my pride and take his advice. “Wow, I can already tell the difference.”
“See what I mean?”
“I do. Thanks!” I smile, but he’s pursing his lips as if he’s having a hard time not saying something. “Spit it out, Luke.”
He laughs once then runs a hand through his hair. “Have you talked to Pam?”
I stop. “No. She called, but I missed it.” Then I remember what Kyle said about Luke and me working together.
In a hushed tone, he says, “I don’t start teaching for another two weeks. Until then, Pam asked me to team up with you.”
I looked into his eyes. “Okayyy. Is that it?” Because the way he’s acting right now makes me think there’s more.
The corner of his mouth tips. “She also asked if I would teach you some jiu-jitsu. So you can implement what you learn into your class. She said some of the parents have been requesting it, and she was hoping we would try it out.”
Again, I can’t help but notice how amazing he smells, and the way it’s affecting my senses. I feel that strange familiarity as he watches my face, waiting for my response. S
o I just stand there nodding my head as I process what he told me. “It’s weird. There’s something about you that feels so familiar, and this isn’t the first time I’ve felt it. It’s almost like déjà vu.”
He runs a hand over his face, glancing around the room before his eyes land on me. “That is weird.” Then moving along, he asks, “So, you’re okay with that?”
“Huh? Oh the training? Are you kidding? I would love it!”
He looks surprised by my answer and raises his brows. “Where is Reese, and what have you done with her?”
I playfully swat his arm. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? You hate me,” he says, pointing a finger at his own chest.
Throwing my gloved hands against my hips, I frown. “I don’t ... I don’t hate you.” I never said that out loud, did I? Truthfully, I don’t.
He snorts. “Could have fooled me.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I gave you that impression,” I say sincerely, because I do actually feel bad for the way that I’ve treated him.
He chuckles. “Well you have been pretty vocal about the kind of person you think I am, and last night you tried to kick my ass, so ...”
“Ugh,” I shut my eyes. “You’re right. I misjudged you, so can we start over?”
His eyes sparkle, and he reaches out to shake my hand and grins. “Friends?” He helps me pull the glove off my hand.
“Friends,” I answer, pausing before I ask, “So when are we supposed to do this?”
“Pam suggested after-hours or before we open. We’ll just work it around our schedules.” He walks over to the row of chairs and takes a seat, so I take the one next to him.
“Are they paying you?”
“No,” he says quietly then clears his throat.
“They should,” I frown.
“Pam offered, but I declined.” He shrugs.
My mouth drops, completely surprised. “Why would you do that?”
“What?” He smirks sitting back in the chair. “I don’t mind training you. I’d like to help.” This guy is not at all like I thought.
I tilt my head, trying to figure him out. “Really?”
“Really,” he says sincerely.
“How do you know Pam anyway?” I ask.
Running a hand through his messy hair, he sighs. “We go way back.”
I look down at my hands and mumble, “Yeah so do we.” I smile. “We used to be neighbors actually.” I lift my lashes, finding his eyes are resting on my scar, the one that’s slightly hidden above my brow. Then something in his gaze causes a rash of chills to spread over my entire body, and my heart pounds rapidly, as the realization suddenly hits me. I know him.
“When I was ten I fell off my bike.” I hesitate. “My face landed in the rocks, and I got this ugly scar.” It’s a lie, but I watch for his reaction.
Slowly, he reaches over and gently brushes his thumb across my scar, as if he’s washing it away. He gives the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. I have to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from crying. How could I have gone this long without recognizing him? The person I dream about nearly every night and never even knew his name. Luke, his name is Luke, and he saved me all those years ago. He saved me from Ronald and the abuse of my father. He saved my mother’s life, and not once asked for anything in return. I’m a horrible person, the biggest bitch that ever walked the planet.
“You okay?” he asks, immediately snapping me awake. His eyes are soft, his lips pressed into a tight line. He knows who I am, and he’s wondering if I’ve figured him out.
I stand up, brushing my palms over my pants. “Yeah I’m fine.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and have a hard time looking him in the eyes. “I’m gonna take a bathroom break, then I’ll catch you in class in about thirty minutes? I arch an eyebrow.
He watches me carefully, and I wonder if he can tell I’m lying. “Yeah,” he hesitates, “see you over there.” Then he looks in the other direction before I walk away from him.
“Just breathe, Reese.” Gripping the edge of the counter, I stand in front of the mirror and talk to myself like a crazy person, repeatedly inhaling through my mouth and breathing out my nose. “Why wouldn’t he tell me? Why wouldn’t Pam tell me?” I think about the short time he lived there, how he left after my father’s arrest, only to come back three years later, then leave again. “They never talked about him front of me, but then again, would I have noticed since I never knew his name?”
I throw my hair up in a high pony, wishing I would’ve fixed myself up a little this morning. “No wonder why he looked surprised when I told him my age,” I grumble. “He still thinks of me as the little girl he always tried to protect. He’s got to be what, about five or six years older than me? That’s not that big of an age difference.” I tuck away a straggling hair. “They must have some reason for not telling me.” I frown. “Well, two can play at that game. I’ll just act like I haven’t figured it out—see how long it takes them to say something.” A couple of ladies walk into the bathroom that I recognize as regulars. So I immediately stop talking to my reflection and tell them, “Hello.”
They smile back, and one of them waves.
I spend the rest of my free time calming my nerves, as well as the crazy new feelings that are stirring. If I thought Luke affected me before, that has nothing on what he’s doing to me now. “Class, this is Luke.” I stand in the center of the octagon, and he’s positioned right beside me. “He’s going to be helping us for the next couple of weeks.” Funny how when I say those words now, I feel my cheeks heat and my pulse speed up a bit.
He gives his heart-stopping grin that, most likely, many girls have dropped their panties for. “Hey ladies.” He raises his hand in a small wave.
“Hey Luke,” they all say at once, some of them giggling. Ally raises her arm, so I point to her.
“Ally.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
Luke and I chuckle, but her question makes me nervous. I clear my throat. “No, Ally, he just works here with me.”
“Oh,” she says back, then wiggles her index finger in a motion for me to come closer. I place my ear next to her mouth, and she whispers, “Is he the reason for the guy problems?” I turn and look into those puppy dog eyes and notice she’s smiling, and I grin back. “He’s really cute,” she adds, flicking her gaze to Luke then back. I look over my shoulder as he asks each of the girls for their names, oblivious to our conversation.
Luke talks to the class about everything they’re going to learn today. I sit back and watch as he gains twelve new fans. “How many of you ladies know what wrestling is?” he asks them.
All of them raise their hands, listening intently as he strides back and forth. I can already tell—based on how they watch him—he has a special way with them. Of course, the fact that he’s gorgeous might have something to do with their immediate interest. “Reese and I are going to show you a form of martial arts called jiu-jitsu. Many people compare it to wrestling.” I glance at the girls and spot a couple of them whispering, eyeing him as if he were a god. When they catch me watching them, I wink.
“With jiu-jitsu you take the fight to the mat. The fighter on the bottom has just as much advantage as the fighter on top. You just need to learn which strategy will work best, and that all depends on the position you’re in, as well as your opponent. You understand?” He gives them a dimpled smile. They nod their heads, and he turns to me and mumbles, “Throw me to the ground. I’ll go easy on you.”
I wasn’t sure I heard him right. “Huh?” I raise a brow, and he smirks. Okay, so I did hear him correctly. I dive head first into his stomach, wrapping my arms around his waist, and he falls easily—purposely.
“Stay on top of me,” he murmurs.
Not a problem, I don’t say out loud, feeling the ridges of his body underneath me. I can tell he’s speaking to the girls, but haven’t heard a single thing he’s saying, because my hormones have now decided to go into hyper-drive. I me
an, how can someone smell so incredibly intoxicating? I could really get used to this. In fact, I don’t want to let him up.
The sound of twelve giggling girls snaps me out of my daze. Then I feel Luke’s rumbling laughter penetrate through my chest and trickle into my hair. Oh my God! Was I really just sniffing him? My cheeks heat, and I lift my lids, meeting his wide grin. “Sorry about that,” I say, mortified I did that in front of the entire class.
His eyes twinkle. “Don’t worry about it. Do I stink?” He brushes his hand up my back before he lifts his arm to smell himself. I can’t help but tremble a little at the intimate touch.
“Uh no,” I answer, chewing on my lip then add, “You smell great actually.” The corner of his mouth curls, and I glance at the students with their gaze pinned in our direction, as if waiting for something to happen. I clear my throat. “Moving along to the next part of today’s lesson,” Luke continues as if nothing ever happened.
“Okay ladies, as Reese lays across my body, I’m going to secure my left leg high up on her thigh area like this.” He scoots my body up so that our faces are almost level, while his foot securely hooks underneath my thigh.
I can feel every hard line and ripple that belongs to him. It’s beginning to be a problem since I’m having a terrible time controlling my hormones. I’m not very experienced when it comes to the opposite sex, and it just so happens that this particular male underneath me is the only one who seems to affect me. I squeeze my eyes shut, mentally counting to ten.
“You okay?” he asks. His caramel-colored orbs scan my face, with no humor in them.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say weakly, embarrassed by my body’s reaction to his closeness.
He watches me a little longer to make sure.
Raising Ryann Page 6