I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. “It’s okay. I brought clothes you can wear.”
He looked up at me, his own face flaming, and something stupid happened in my stomach.
Stupid fucking stomach.
“Shoes,” he blurted. “I don’t have the right kind of shoes either.”
Okay, so awkward antiques geek was awkward. And cute as a fucking button.
“It’s okay. We’re going to be barefoot on the mat anyway. And you’ll be spending more time on your back than your feet, so it’s a moot point, really.” Apparently I couldn’t help myself. The innuendo was coming out of my mouth whether I liked it or not. The receptionist widened her eyes at my brazen behavior, and the client himself blushed an even deeper shade of pink.
God, this was going to be weird.
Chapter 3
Augie
I thought maybe I’d made a huge mistake. I’d agreed to Rory’s suggestion of the self-defense class to feel empowered and strong, but I was already feeling off-kilter and dizzy. The man with… the man with all the muscles seemed to delight in teasing me.
That wasn’t going to make me feel more powerful. Perhaps I needed to request a new trainer.
I turned to the woman at the reception counter and raised a finger to speak. Before a single word came out of my mouth, Gigantor stepped closer and put his humongous paw on my back to nudge me deeper into the building. I swallowed my tongue and tried to keep up with his long strides, which wasn’t easy considering I was walking on little toothpick legs.
The feeling of that large warm hand through my coat sent shivers through me as we walked. I wondered what the hell was wrong with me. Was he so big and strong that I was having some kind of caveman fear response? I refused to think of any other explanation. I sure as shit wasn’t attracted to the beast. He wasn’t even close to being my type. I didn’t enjoy being overpowered. I’d had enough of that in school growing up with an asshole cousin. The only thing that had saved me then was having a bigger brain and quicker wit. I wondered if the same tools could best this muscleman.
I allowed him to lead me to the small men’s locker room where he grabbed a similar getup to the one he was wearing: black athletic trainer pants and a matching Landen Safekeeping top. He handed over the small stack of items and looked at me expectantly. I took them and asked where the restroom was.
“Over there,” he said, pointing to a doorway behind us. I nodded as if it was a totally normal dude thing to bail on changing in a locker room and made my way to a stall. I didn’t care if he thought I was a weirdo; I was not changing clothes in front of that bodybuilder.
He was like eleven feet tall and ripped. No freaking way. I had enough body issues as it was without revealing my little-boy body to this manly man. I was what people would generously call “lean.” But what that really meant was “skinny as shit and breakable.”
I changed as quickly as I could and tried not to think about walking barefoot out of a men’s room. The entire time I tiptoed across selected clean-looking tiles, I chanted to myself, “You’re here to kick ass, you’re here to kick ass, you’re here to—”
“Follow me,” Saint said as he took my pile of clothes and chucked them in a locker before leading me out to the workout center.
The fitness studio was larger than it looked from the street. The rear portion of the building held the locker rooms, an empty classroom, and a large space that seemed set up for other types of training that required mats like boxing or martial arts. Maybe there was even a gun range or something. Just the thought made my stomach lurch, but after the break-in, I couldn’t help but wonder if I should consider buying a gun.
“Do you shoot?” I asked suddenly, feeling my face heat with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, what?” Saint asked, looking back over his shoulder in confusion.
“Guns, I mean. Do you shoot guns?” Oh my god, is it possible to sound this stupid in real life?
Saint held the door open to the large area with soft mats lining the floor. I entered the room and felt my arm brush against his as I walked past. A tingly feeling bloomed over my skin where our bodies connected, and I felt myself blush yet again. What was it about this man that made me super-aware of his body? Of my own body? Was it because he was so big? Was he intimidating me?
He should be intimidating me based on his size, his looks, and how I’d always felt fearful around bigger guys like my cousin Brett and his football friends. But for some reason, the man in front of me seemed harmless. Maybe it was his messy blond hair and baby face. It was too bad, really. But it most likely explained why he was a self-defense teacher instead of a real bodyguard out in the field.