He faltered for a second, then his face cleared with a sunny smile. “A few years ago, I really got into kickboxing. It tends to keep you on your toes.”
Kickboxing? That was nowhere in his file.
“I love kickboxing,” she blurted, unable to stop herself. “I got into it a little while ago myself.” With a mischievous smile, she dropped back into a casual fighting pose. “Care to show me what you got?”
He froze dead still, looking her up and down.
“Uh...no. Not at all.”
She glanced around the empty view point with a grin. “Why not? No one’s around.”
“It’s not about that. It’s just...” He floundered for a moment, before gesturing to her body in exasperation. “Look at you! I could snap you in half!”
“Oh really...”
She stepped forward with a dangerous grin. He hesitated, then took a step back.
“Plus, I seem to remember that woman at the police station saying something about you carrying a nightstick...”
She burst out laughing, advancing forward once again.
“Well what is it, Dylan? Are you afraid of me, or afraid of hurting me? Because as you can see,” she gestured down to her skin-tight hiking clothes, “I’m entirely unarmed.”
His eyes grew thoughtful for a moment, and he seemed to be taking the question a lot more seriously than it was intended. Afraid of me, or afraid of hurting me. It was like he honestly couldn’t decide. Then a little grin twitched up the side of his lips.
“Give me your best shot, Larson.”
I thought you’d never ask...
With a wild cry, she leapt into the air—spinning around just inches away from his face with a high kick. It was a flashy move. One intended to intimidate, while being relatively harmless all at the same time. One that had never failed to work for her before.
...until now.
His hand flashed out like a bullet and caught her ankle, holding it in the air between them. All the breath rushed out of her lungs in a stunned gasp, but he was only getting started. His eyes sparkled with the excitement as he slowly released her, lowering leg back to her side.
“Just tell me when you want to begin,” he teased. “Take your time.”
It was one thing to spar in a studio. It was another thing entirely to do it on a mountain.
They raced back and forth. Exchanging jabs. Calling out taunts and insults. Kicking, and tackling, and laughing, and biting to their heart’s content. There were no set rules, and all the fatigue of the climb was long forgotten as they threw themselves wholeheartedly into the fight.
He was a lot harder to take down than Lacy’s mannequins, but that was probably because he actually fought back. And he didn’t go easy on her. Not by a long shot. His level of skill and experience was obviously much higher than her own, and after a long drawn out struggle, he finally swept her legs out from under her—catching her safely in his arms.
“Not bad, Larson.” He held her in a cinematic dip, their faces just inches apart. “For a minute there, I actually thought you were going to throw me right off the cliff.”
She grinned, staring up into his eyes. “For a minute there, I was actually debating.”
They hovered for a moment longer, smiling breathlessly, before leaning in for a kiss. One of those perfect, suspended kisses. The kind that you know you’ll remember forever.
A neon flash lit up the air around them.
Lacy looked up with a start, as he set her back on her feet. For a moment, both were simply stunned. Then they lifted their heads to see a man standing just a few feet away.
He had appeared out of nowhere. Hiking up without a single sound.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized before they could say anything, stressing all the vowels with a faint German accent. “I’m a photographer. That shot was too perfect not to take.”
They stood there for a second longer as their racing hearts returned to normal, before Dylan stepped forward with a bright smile. He scribbled something down on a slip of paper, then handed it to the man. “Can you email that to me? I’d love to have it.”