Saint looked at me with a funny quirk to the edge of one of his lips. “I do shoot guns. I was in the military for several years, and now I’m a personal security specialist. It sort of comes with the territory.”
Embarrassed for asking, I quickly looked away, muttering, “Never mind.”
“Okay,” Saint said. “Then let’s get to the point of why we’re here. Self-defense. Can you tell me a little bit about what made you want to do this?”
I looked at the man and thought about how to answer. Could I really tell this human Mack truck the answer to that question? That I’d hidden like a coward while some unknown thugs took away any feeling of home and security I’d had at my family farmhouse the week before? That after years of being bullied as a child, I was finally having to come to terms with the fact that my tormentors had apparently been right? I was a coward. I was weak and scared—all the fucking time. But I also had plenty of experience pretending I was fine.
“Just thought it was time to mix up the workouts and learn some moves, that’s all,” I said.
I saw Saint frown. He didn’t buy what I was selling, and I didn’t give a damn. I wasn’t about to tell someone like him what a chickenshit I was.
“Okay then. General fitness and defense moves. Gotcha.” Saint gestured for me to follow him to the center of the mat. “First let’s warm up a little while I talk about the most important part of self-defense—prevention.” He led me through some movements and stretches while he spoke.
“The most important part of keeping yourself safe is avoiding dangerous situations in the first place and being smart about how you move through your day.” He continued to talk about being alert and things like that—all pieces of advice I’d heard before. I rolled my shoulders as he talked and started some jumping jacks when he indicated.
The muscle-jacked blond man could do any series of moves without getting remotely out of breath while he spoke. Meanwhile, despite being a regular jogger, I felt my heart rate increase and my breathing speed up.
I tried to pay attention to his words, but my eyes kept insisting on checking out his form. He was tall with very little body fat, and his muscles seemed tight like industrial rubber bands. Saint wasn’t overly bulky like a professional bodybuilder, but he was definitely a protein shake–drinking, weight-lifting kind of guy. I wondered how much time he spent in the gym.
“One of your biggest advantages is catching your attacker off guard with the speed and aggression of your response. If you’ve tried all the other things I’ve mentioned, including yelling for them to back the fuck off, and they’re still coming at you, it’s a whole different ball game. If you actually get attacked, don’t think, and don’t show any mercy.”
I looked at him and wondered what it would look like for a man his size to not show mercy. I couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“Once someone is in your personal space, it’s hit or be hit. You go for vulnerable spots, and everyone has them. Size doesn’t matter. The eyes, the nose, the ears, neck and throat. The groin.”
I inwardly winced, and he must have sensed my thoughts. He nodded. “You could take me down with one well-placed kick or grab and pull.”
Just the thought of grabbing and pulling anything in his groin area made me shudder. Kicking, yes. Grabbing? I don’t think so.
My face began to flame in embarrassment at all of the talk of Saint’s groin. Why were we talking about his groin? Why was I thinking about his groin? When was my brain going to stop repeating the word groin?
The first thing he demonstrated was an ear clap. As the large man stepped closer to me, I caught a hint of a fresh scent coming off his body. Deodorant maybe, or a lingering aftershave smell. There was something about it I liked, and I felt silly when my mind immediately wondered if I could ask him what it was so I could buy it.
You’re not asking the dude why he smells so good, you idiot.
As he described the way to cup the hand and keep the fingers safe, my eyes focused on his mouth. He had a canine tooth that was a little pointy and twisted, and it gave him an endearing quality that was unusual in someone with such a hard body. I wondered if he’d grown up without money for braces.
As he brought his cupped hand to my ear, I noticed his eyes were a combination of gray and the lightest blue. He had a thin vertical scar on the edge of his upper lip, and I felt my tongue come out to test the same spot on my own lip. Saint’s eyes followed my tongue, and his pupils seemed to grow darker.