Chapter 7
RHETT
Istep out of the shower. Wipe the steam from the mirror and look into my dark brown eyes. As I shave, I tell myself I need to tell Elle before this goes too far.
Yesterday meant more to me than it had any right to. A drive with her and her funny, cute little sister, making them smile, felt like its own damn reward.
But if she knew—
“Then fucking do something about it,” I growl at my reflection.
Before I leave, I go into my study and find the book I was thinking about all last night. I couldn’t shake the warmth I felt when Elle talked about photography, not that I wanted to shake it. Her passion made me feel… well, just feel. That was a miracle in itself.
Anything other than white-hot rage isn’t usually on the menu.
Yesterday at the diner, I would’ve needed to be the most ignorant man imaginable not to see her hyper vigilance. She was trying her best to hide it. But more than twice she flinched. It was as if she didn’t even know she was doing it sometimes.
Which is why I need to tell her.
Fucking hell, I’m getting repetitive. Boring myself even.
Either do it or shut up, man.
When I reach her cabin, I know I’m going to go with the shut-up option. They look too excited for the day, Mira wearing a karate outfit that looks like a Halloween costume. Gi pants and a shirt with Chinese lettering, complete with a ribbon around her head.
Elle is wearing tight-fitting leggings and a practical sports shirt. As she approaches the car, hunger stirs in me. Those leggings grip her thick thighs like they’re waiting for me to tear them loose and reveal her creamy perfection.
I close my eyes and take a breath.
Then climb from the car and open the backseat. Mira raises her arms as if she wants me to lift her into the car. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elle anxiously chewing on her lip.
“Come on now, ninja girl. I bet you can jump into the car!”
Mira giggles and leaps up. Elle smiles gratefully at me. When I walk around to the passenger-side, she stops and turns to me. “What are you doing?”
“Opening your door.”
She rolls her eyes, but that tempting, gorgeous flush in her cheeks is back. I’m getting addicted to bringing that out in her.
“I can do that myself.”
“Sure, you can. But let me be a gentleman.”
I open the door before she can argue any further. When she climbs into the car, I get a view of her ass. The leggings hugging her tightly. I stare for a beat too long. Then drag my gaze away, remind myself to be civilized. To try, at least.
“Who’s ready to learn how to fight?” I say in the car.
Mira laughs, clapping her hands together. Every time Elle looks at her, it’s with gratitude in her golden eyes, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Me, me!”
As I drive away, a fleeting thought strikes me. This is what it must feel like to have a family. My lady and I and our kid driving into town for a fun day of adventure.
I push it away.
I live in the real world. Love at first sight is for goddamn fairytales.
Elle hums softly, looking out the window with that same artistic glint from yesterday.
“Look in the glove compartment,” I tell her.
She snaps her gaze to me. Mouth tight. She’s constantly waiting for a disaster. Like she thinks there’s going to be a hand grenade in there.
“Why?” she asks nervously.
“Just look,” I say softly. “It’s a good thing. A gift.”
“You don’t need to get me gifts,” she says quietly.
“And you don’t need to be so stubborn,” I counter.
She finally reaches forward and opens the compartment.
When she takes out the book, she gasps. Looks at me again with fresh eyes.
“The Wonderful World of Gunnison Peaks: Photos and Fancies.” She opens the hardcover.
“Wow, these are beautiful. Look at the trails.” She turns more pages.
“I didn’t even know half of these existed. ”
“That book was my dad’s,” I tell her.
She shuts it. “Then it’s too much.”
“It’s not,” I say fiercely. “Before we moved, he bought a few of those books when we were deciding where to settle down. When I came here, I brought it with me… And I want you to have it.”
“Rhett…”
“The way your face lit up just now, Elle. It’s worth it. Please.”
I grind my teeth. Stare at the road. My voice is too husky. But I can’t help it. Maybe I don’t want to.
“Thank you,” she says softly, reaches across and lays her hand on my arm for a moment that feels like it lasts minutes. “That’s really thoughtful.”
I open the dojo and led them up a set of stairs. At the edge of the mat, I slip off my sneakers. “Barefoot, please,” I say.
Mira takes her shoes off. Steps onto the mat. Turns in a slow circle and looks at the mirrors surrounding us and the medals on the walls. “Whoa, this place is really cool.”
“Lots of mirrors,” Elle says, taking her shoes off and joining us.
I look at our reflections. Me looming over Elle, Elle standing at my side, curvy, nervous, and attractive as hell. She looks at the mirror with a pursed mouth, as if she doesn’t like the sight. And that makes me want to roar.
Does she really not know how beautiful she is?
“We’ll do some striking first,” I say.
“Like when people want to get paid more, and they don’t go to work?” Mira asks in confusion.
That breaks Elle’s spell. She laughs gorgeously as she caresses her sister’s hair. “I think he means punching and kicking, angel.”
“I knew that.” Mira huffs. “I was joking.”
I go to the equipment rack, get a set of child and adult boxing gloves, then some pads. In the reflection, I catch Elle watching me. She’s got her legs pressed together. Like she’s fighting the lust there. Pressing her thighs together to stop the—
No, fuck no. I need to stop.
I clear my head. Focus. Tame myself as much as I’m able to around this magnetic miracle.
“Put these on,” I say, handing them the gloves. “I’ll teach you some basics about striking.”
Mira slips one hand into her glove, then struggles with the second. I kneel and help her. She looks at me with a big smile.
“Okay, let’s start with the basics,” I say, standing up.
“I want you to stand like this. Your stance is very important. It’s how you get power in your strikes.
And it’s how you keep your balance if somebody tries to hit you.
To begin with, we’re going to walk across the room, that’s all. In our stance.”
I show them the right way, then begin crab-walking across the room.
They’re good students, paying close attention. But on the fourth lap, Mira exclaims, “Can we hit something, please?”
I chuckle and walk over. “Sure, but only if you promise to keep that stance and keep your hands up.”
She raises her hands over her head. “Like this up?”
Elle’s laugh is the best sound in the world, I swear. A balm for a broken soul.
“No, like this,” I say, showing her. “To cover your face. And when you hit, your hands always come back to the same position. Like this.” I jab the air, then return my hands to the space in front of my face.
“Okay, like this, yeah?” She does the same, hitting the air. She even does some hip rotations without me needing to tell her.
“That’s excellent, Mira!”
She beams. “Let’s do it. I’m a ninja girl!”
I kneel and put on the striking pads, then raise my hands. “Okay. Hit the pads. Don’t worry about how hard you can do it. Just remember what I’ve taught you.”
She huffs, hitting for about three minutes. I can tell she’s tired, but she pushes through it. Elle stands off to the side. Emotion welling in her eyes.
Finally, Mira falls back and collapses on the mat. “Okay, I’m tired now,” she says, giggling. “Can I have a break, please, Mister Ninja Man?”
I chuckle. “There’s a computer in the office if you want to play some games on it?”
“Can I, Elle, please?”
Elle nods, then stops herself. She walks over to me and lowers her voice, so Mira can’t hear. She’s close enough that I could wrap my arm around her, feel her warmth, and press against her body so she could feel the hunger in me.
“Where is this room?” she asks. “Is it possible for anyone to get to it without us knowing?”
I shake my head and gesture to the other side of the dojo. “It’s up that corridor. No way for anyone to get in and out without coming through here. All the windows are locked too.”
Elle nods. “Then, sure, Mira, you can play some games.”
Elle follows me as I lead Mira to the far door. We get Mira settled in front of the computer, then return to the dojo. Elle raises her gloves with a nervous smile. “My turn?”
“Just try not to hit me.”
“If I do, it will be an accident,” she says with heavy sarcasm.
I laugh, then raise the pads. She grunts as she hits the pad. I move around the room, watching her feet, her stance. She moves well for a beginner. She hits again and again, each time with more power, like she’s letting out little pieces of her rage with each strike.
After two minutes, she’s gasping with each punch. Her eyes glisten. She’s not hitting the pads, I realize. She’s hitting him.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she hisses, and then stumbles back, breathing hard. She rests the gloves on her knees. “This is more tiring than it looks.”
“You’re doing very well,” I tell her seriously.
A fleeting smile flashes across her face, then she murmurs, “But what would I do if he grabbed me?”
My body stirs, the savage emerging. I’m very aware we’re alone.
“There are techniques,” I say. “I usually show beginners what to do if, somehow, their attacker ends up on top of them. But we don’t need to—”
She bites the Velcro of one glove and rips it loose. “If we’re going to do this, I want to do it properly.”
“Uh, sure.”
As I take off the pads, I remind myself what this is. A self-defense lesson, not a chance for me to get up and close to that body of hers.
She deserves better than that.
Better than me.