Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ROSE
If I was the jealous type, walking into Ian’s gym would be my undoing.
Nearly every woman we’ve run into has made some excuse to talk to Ian, and some of their excuses are pretty flimsy.
Do you think these new shoes fit right? Should I use that KT tape on my shoulder, and by the way, would you be able to put it on for me? Do you have any time to show me how to use the weight machines? I’m so clueless when it comes to fancy machines like that.
The last one was from a very busty woman with a long, blonde braid, and it was asked complete with wide eyes and batting eyelashes and a sexy little purr.
But even if I did get jealous easily, which I don’t—that’s a lesson I taught myself when I got into the art world—Ian handled all of it perfectly.
To me, that is. Maybe not to the blonde with the braid, who didn’t seem too thrilled when he put his arm around me and said, “Sorry, Amy. I’m here with Rose today. But Vienna is working; I’ll send her to the weight room to help you.”
And he kindly dealt with all the other women who were eyeing him like a calorie-free sundae they couldn’t wait to devour, making it quite clear I was with him—holding my hand or wrapping his arm around me and tucking me into his side.
I could almost hear the wistful sighs in his wake.
Not that I blame them. Ian is hot. Tanned, muscular, gorgeous smile, eyes you want to dive into… and his personality makes him even sexier. He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, kind, polite, protective, and an all-around great person.
Is it too soon to be falling for him?
If I haven’t already, I worry that seeing him in action will push me over the edge. Because today we’re here not just to tour the gym, but Ian’s going to show me some of his martial art moves—just some basics for me, but then he’ll demonstrate some more advanced skills I can learn once my hand is healed.
My hand? That’s a whole different can of worms that I’m not going to think about right now. Not when I’m excited to see Ian doing some of the things I’ve had in the back of my mind since he told me he’s a black belt in six different styles of martial arts.
We’ve toured nearly all of the gym before Ian leads me through a doorway into a large room with mats on the floor and punching bags lining the walls. He stops just inside the room and looks down at me with concern. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
His fingers brush over my still-bruised cheek. “What about your ribs, though?”
“They’re fine.” I smile brightly at him. “And didn’t you say this was all low-impact?”
“Yes.” He drags out the word. “I just want to be careful.”
“I know. But I want to learn this. If anything hurts, I’ll stop. Okay?”
But I won’t stop. Not unless the pain is excruciating.
Even though I feel much safer in my apartment now that all the cameras and sensors are installed, it’s not enough to completely quell my fear. So if I can learn something that might help me defend myself, I’m doing it.
Last night was the first night Ian didn’t come over since I got out of the hospital, and it was a little more challenging than I let on. He had a shift at the station, so I completely understood, and we’ve just started dating, so I know I can’t expect him to be around all the time.
Rationally, I know time apart is good for us.
But it was still hard. Not seeing him at all, sitting in my apartment alone all night, imagining every sound was something threatening… It wasn’t great.
Ari and Thea both texted, and we made plans for our wine and cheese night next week, so that helped. And Ian called to see how I was doing. Of course I told him everything was good. What could he do if it wasn’t? Leave his shift?
Anyway, I’ve been living on my own for over a decade. I can handle staying in my apartment alone.
“I’m excited to learn,” I insist to a still worried-looking Ian. “And don’t forget, you’re going to show me some of the cool action-star stuff after.”
Ian snorts derisively. “The stuff they do in movies is just the flashy stuff. I’ll show you some really cool moves.” He pauses. “Okay, since you’re sure, the first thing is to take off your shoes. We don’t want to ruin the mats.”
As soon as my sneakers are off, he leads me to the center of the room, puts his hands on my arms, and looks at me very seriously. “First, I’m going to show you some stances. Just to get you comfortable. Then we’ll move to some basic moves that you can do with either your left hand or your knees. If anything hurts at all, stop. Don’t push it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Alright. So first we have the hachiji dachi, which is the ready stance. You’ll stand like this—” He stops to demonstrate. “Go ahead and try it.”
I’m not a super athletic person, so I was a little concerned going into this that I’d make a fool of myself. But standing, I can do. I imitate Ian and feel inordinately proud when he beams at me. “Great, Rose. That’s perfect.”
We go through the rest of the stances and by the end of them, I’m feeling pretty confident. Granted, it’s just standing in slightly different ways, but right about now, I’ll take my successes where I can get them.
It’s when Ian starts to show me the actual moves that my focus begins to wane.
When he moves my body into the right position to do a hammer strike, I’m distracted by the sizzles of electricity wherever he touches me.
And when he demonstrates it for me, my attention might be drawn more to his arm muscles than the actual motion.
It’s even sexier than I imagined it would be.
Ian gets this intense look in his eyes, and there’s this sort of intentional stillness before he moves, and then whoosh —his arm snaps out and it looks way cooler in person than in any movie I’ve seen.
“Rose.” It’s said with a hint of laughter.
I yank my gaze away from Ian’s arm to look at his face. “Yes?”
His eyes are crinkled at the corners and his lips are twitching. “Are you paying attention?”
“Of course.” I can feel my cheeks heating. “Why?”
“Just wondering.”
But I know I’m busted, so I huff at him. “ Fine . You know you look really sexy doing that. Can you blame me for staring?”
“Oh really?” His voice dips. “You think I look sexy?”
Oh . The rough timbre of his voice makes my womb clench with need. And are my nipples getting hard?
Crap. They are. And they are definitely visible beneath the sports bra and tank top I’m wearing.
“Hun.” Ian moves closer to me, and his eyes are almost black with desire. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not going to be able to finish this lesson.”
“What?” And then my gaze drops below the waistband of his athletic shorts, where the mesh fabric isn’t doing much to conceal his obvious arousal. “Oh.”
Ian chuckles. “Yes, oh.” He leans down to kiss me, lingering for only a second. “And while I’d like to lock the door and have my way with you, I told Chris I’m in here if he needs anything. And the other employees could come looking for me as well. So…”
“Right. Focus on the lesson.”
“For now. Later, on the other hand…”
“Yes.” My heart makes a happy little flip, and I smile at him. “Later.”
After we’re finished at the gym, we’re going to stop back at my apartment so I can change, and then we’re going over to Ian’s place. I’m pretty excited to see his house, which he described as an almost-done fixer-upper, and to meet Baxter, who I’ve heard so much about.
And what we’ll do at his house?
While I’m not ready to have sex with Ian yet—at least not emotionally, though my body would be happy to throw caution to the wind—I wouldn’t mind doing more than just kissing.
“Okay.” Ian straightens up and gives me a mock-scolding look. “Before you distract me again, let’s move on to the throat punch.”
“A throat punch? I can do that?”
“You can. If you practice.” He takes my left hand and folds it into a fist. “Always hold your hand this way. If you don’t, you can really hurt yourself.”
As he shows me how to punch at his outstretched palm, he continues explaining the move. “This isn’t something you’d ever do unless you absolutely have to. But it can be very effective. Since you’re not left-handed, I’d suggest doing some strengthening exercises—I have some tools I can give you, if you’d like.”
“Please.” A month ago, I could never have imagined punching someone in the throat. But now… If I was in danger, I’d do it. Without hesitation.
After we’ve practiced the punch a few dozen times, Ian calls an end to the lesson, saying, “It’s enough for today, Rose. I know it doesn’t feel like much, but trust me, your arm will hurt tomorrow.”
“But what about the eye strike?” Before we got here, he told me the eye strike was so dangerous, it was banned in most competitions, but he’d show me so I could use it in case I was ever attacked again.
Then his face got all hard and the muscles in his jaw started twitching, so I quickly changed the subject. But I really do want to learn how to do it.
“Next time. I promise.” He looks at my disappointed expression and offers, “I can show you some of those action-star moves, if you want.”
I perk up. “Ooh. Can you do a spinning kick? Or one where you’re leaping?”
Laughing, he pulls me in for a hug. “Yes. I can do both of those. Would you like to see them?”
“Yes. Please .”
I’m still picturing Ian doing his spinning kick when we pull up to his house.
Like the twenty other moves he showed me, he made it look easy. Springing from stillness to action in a blink, legs whipping, and flashing me a sexy little smirk when he finished.
Those guys in the action movies have nothing on him.
And I definitely understand why all those women want to sign up for his classes. I want to go to all Ian’s classes, and I’m dating him.
It’s pretty crazy, when I think about it. I’ve dated before, even had short relationships, but I’ve never felt this level of attraction. I honestly thought I didn’t have it in me. Wrong. I just hadn’t met the right guy yet.
“Well, this is it.” Ian turns into a short driveway and lifts his chin at the house in front of us. “It’s nothing fancy, and it still needs some work?—”
I look out the window and gasp. “Ian. I love it.”
When I tried to picture his house, nothing came close to this.
It’s a small Cape Cod-style house with two dormers on the second floor, painted pale gray with dark slate shingles. There’s an adorable little porch with potted plants on either side of the front door, and a tidy stone path leads up to it. The lawn is a lush green with horizontal lawnmower lines cutting across it, and a pretty red maple tree adds a splash of color to the scene.
“It’s kind of small,” he continues, not sounding anything like the confident man I’ve gotten to know. “Just three bedrooms, two baths?—”
“Stop.” My hand comes down lightly on his forearm. “It’s perfect.” It’s not an exaggeration. Without even seeing the inside, I already love it.
As soon as we step through the door, I’m greeted by a very cute and excited Baxter. He’s friendly and obviously excited to see a new person, but as soon as Ian says, “Be gentle, bud. Rose is still healing,” he immediately settles.
Next, Ian takes me on a tour of the house, but he keeps making apologies—the kitchen is too small, the basement isn’t finished, it needs new windows—until I’ve finally had it. I come to an abrupt stop in the upstairs bedroom, forcing Ian to do a quick sidestep to avoid running into me.
“Stop.” I grab his hand and squeeze it hard. “I mean it. Your house is amazing. And you fixed this place up yourself?—”
“Grant helped?—”
“Still.” My voice firms. “This place is great. Not too small, the windows are fine, a big kitchen would be a waste, and there are so many amazing things about it. How much sun it gets. These adorable dormers, which would be the perfect place to sit and read. The original wood floors.”
My voice gets stronger as I continue. “I love your house, Ian. I don’t want it to sound weird since we’ve just started dating, but this is the exact kind of place I’d want to live.”
And I’m pretty darn pissed at his stupid ex, who clearly left Ian with some lingering insecurities. But I’m not going to say that to him. Obviously.
He stares at me for a second before his face brightens. “You really like it?”
“Yes, I do.” Twining my arms around his waist, I snuggle into his chest. “I love it.”
For the first time since I met Ian, I feel like I’m reassuring him , and I like it.
His arms come around me, and his lips press to the top of my head. “Thank you, Rose.”
My only response is to hug Ian harder.
The room goes quiet, except for the rhythmic thumping of his heart against my ear.
One hand comes to my nape, the other to the small of my back.
This isn’t a heated embrace, but a comforting one.
Then Baxter noses his way between our legs, interrupting the moment. As he looks up at us with big pay-attention-to-me-eyes, I can’t help giggling. “Looks like someone is jealous.”
Ian pats Baxter on the head. “Maybe so. But he’ll have to get used to it.”
Baxter follows us outside to the backyard, but quickly gets distracted by the excitement of the outdoors. As he romps off to bark at some birds chittering in a tall maple, Ian takes my hand and leads me over to a patio with a hammock and Adirondack chairs set around a small fire pit.
We carefully sit side-by-side in the hammock; our bodies pressed close together, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. Or happy. A smile spreads across my face and I let out a little sigh of pleasure as I rest my head on Ian’s shoulder.
“What?” he asks, casting a sideways glance at me.
“Just being out here. With the sun shining, and the fresh air, and it’s so peaceful here. I can really appreciate everything—the smell of the fresh-cut grass, the birds singing, sitting here with you… It’s perfect.”
Ian shifts a little, so he’s partially facing me. “I’m glad, Rose. I feel the same way when I’m out here.” Then his smile slips into something more serious. “Do you miss it? The city?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “No. I don’t miss it. I mean, I liked small parts of it—my favorite art supply store, the bakery near my apartment that sold the best muffins—but overall, I wasn’t happy there.”
“So you don’t want to go back?” Worry flickers in his eyes. “After everything…”
I wriggle around until my legs are draped across his. “No. I moved to the city when my art career started to take off because I thought it was the best place to be. The most exposure, the best galleries, connections… and as a kid, my dream was to live there. Become a famous artist. Live this exciting, creative lifestyle.”
“But?”
A rueful chuckle comes out. “I realized I don’t like that lifestyle. All the events, the people, the expectations to be social… I’m not that person. I like quiet nights at home. Sitting outside like this.”
“Why did you stay, then?”
“Well. At first, I don’t think I realized it. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not very outgoing?—”
Ian frowns and says quickly, “I think you’re just fine, Rose.”
“Thanks.” I smile at him. “But I get shy around people I don’t know. So when I first moved there, I thought that’s all it was. Just adjusting. And over time, I discovered I didn’t like a lot of city life. The ex I told you about? He always wanted me to get us into art events, museum benefits, stuff like that. Places where important people would go. I kept telling him no, and he finally got annoyed and asked me why I bothered moving to the city if I wasn’t going to take advantage of it.”
“That’s crap,” Ian grumbles, scowling. “Sounds like he was just bitter he couldn’t ride on your coattails.”
“Maybe.” I hadn’t really thought about that before. “But it didn’t matter. It put two things in perspective for me. One, James and I were not a match. At all. And then I really asked myself, why was I living there? Because I wanted to, or because I thought I should?”
At the other end of the backyard, Baxter does a flying leap as a bird swoops by overhead, but doesn’t come close to reaching it. He plops down in the grass and if a dog could have a disappointed expression, it’s him.
“That was the point when I started trying to find a new place to live. Somewhere quieter, but still close to the city. It took a long time, but when I saw Sleepy Hollow, and the studio…”
A pang of sorrow hits me as I think about the small space I still haven’t gone back to since the attack. All the paintings ruined. Supplies wasted.
“Rose. Hun.” His voice is achingly gentle. “You know I’ll help you with it. When you’re ready.”
My words get stuck for a second. “I know.”
And I really don’t want to let the bad thoughts ruin my time with Ian.
He adjusts me so I’m cuddled in his arms, then brushes a light kiss across my lips. “I don’t want you to be sad. What can I do to help?”
“I’m not sad.” At his doubting expression, I amend it. “Okay. I’m sad about that. But I’m happy that I’m here. With you. At your wonderful house, sitting in this hammock with you. And I never really understood the appeal of hammocks before, but now that I’m squished into it with you, I think I get it.”
A moment goes by as Ian inspects me with a concerned gaze. Then he strokes my cheek, and his expression shifts from tense to tender. “I’m happy you’re here, too. Beyond happy, really.”
As we stare at each other, that incredible pull between us increases.
My lungs get tight. My heart flutters.
I’ve never felt like this for someone before. I’ve never felt like I need him to breathe.
His eyes are dark like the deepest ocean, drawing me in.
“Ian,” I whisper. “What are you doing to me?”
“I’m not sure,” he murmurs as he leans closer to me. Our lips are only a breath away when he adds, “But you’re doing it to me, too.”
The look in his eyes.
Is it too soon to be falling? It must be.
But then Ian’s lips cover mine, both gentle and demanding, and it’s everything .
Could I be?