I saw Braxton standing a few feet from me, this small, amused smile on his full lips.
His mouth moved, and I knew he was saying hello, but with my earbuds in, I couldn’t hear him. I scrambled to pull them out, one flicking from my grip and bouncing off the floor. My face heated in embarrassment as I tried twice to pick the damn thing up, but the floor seemed slick. That or I had butterfingers, because I couldn’t pick it up at first.
When I finally had them both in the case, I pushed myself up to stand. My face was still on fire as I tipped my head back to look into his face. “Hey,” I finally managed to say, and my throat felt thick.
His smile grew, and I for sure could see the amusement on his face.
“Are you here for the class?” I mumbled, even though I was pretty sure he was the last person who needed self-defense classes. Not to mention the front desk guy said it was just me.
“I am,” he said smoothly and took a few steps to the side of me to drop his gym bag down beside mine.
I took that moment to check him out—shamelessly, I might add.
God, he looked so good in the track shorts and T-shirt he wore. His arms were on display in their muscular, so very masculine glory. The gray material was stretched across his wide shoulders and broad chest, and with each fluid movement he made, I could see glimpses of his defined abs under the cotton.
I felt butterflies start to move wildly in my belly and smoothed my hands over my sweats, all of a sudden remembering the hot mess I probably looked compared to him.
He straightened and grinned down at me, straight, white teeth flashing briefly. “Are you ready for this?”
“Ready?” I felt my brows furrow. And then realization hit me.
Oh God. He’s the instructor.
“I don’t think ‘ready’ is the right word.” The words were mumbled under my breath and weren’t meant to be heard.
Cue red-hot face a second time.
He chuckled and lifted his hand to me but then seemed to shake himself and dropped it back to his side. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair up.”
Instinctively, I pulled at my ponytail, looking down because I felt awkward. No, that wasn’t the right word. I felt pleased he noticed my hair was up and not that I was dressed like I was about to go park my ass on the couch for the next three days.
There was a moment of thick silence, but then he cleared his throat, and I glanced up.
“Come on, let’s get started on these self-defense moves so you’re able to kick anyone's ass who thinks to mess with you.”
I hid my smile as I followed him to the mats.
We stood a foot from each other, and I found myself asking, “You come here a lot?”
“I do. Handful of times a week. Keeps my head clear and my body in shape for the type of work I do.”
I nodded like I knew what he meant. I did. The sight of him was highly distracting. “They don’t have a gym at the station?”
He nodded. “They do. I work out there on the days I don’t come here.”
I swallowed. This man was fit as hell, and it showed.
For the next few minutes, Braxton was going over safety, describing different moves, the basics for a beginner like me. I nodded like I had it all stored away when he was done, but I didn't. It had all gone over my head, and I’d never felt more on edge or out of my element than when Braxton took a step back and got into position. Legs shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, a smile on his face like he… anticipated this.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked, frozen in place, my heart racing. “I really have no clue what I’m doing.”
“And that's okay. That's why I’m here to help.”
I licked my lips again. “You instruct here a lot?”
He shook his head. “Nah, my buddy, the actual instructor, asked me to do this favor. So here I am.” His grin widened. “But I have training in this. It’s not like I’m Joe Schmoe off the street, teaching people how to defend themselves.” He chuckled.
God, it was hot in here. I felt lightheaded too.
He started to bounce on the balls of his feet, and that shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was.
“How