He glided his hand along my back and hooked it on my hip, pulling me closer. The gesture felt natural, and I leaned into him. We slowed our pace to make it easier to walk that way. “But the job is what I have a knack for. It’s cool, but it doesn’t make me special. What do you do?”
Things way too boring and trite, compared to a guy who designed stuff for planes. “Tech support.” My answer came out flat.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s not bad.”
“But it’s not great. What would you rather be doing?”
My instinct was to keep my answers short. To redirect the conversation back to him. Except he sounded genuinely interested. “Teaching.”
“As in, school? High-school kids or something?”
Embarrassment flooded me. “Aikido.”
“Really?” The single word exuded curiosity. “That’s really cool. You must be amazing, to be able to teach.”
“I’m a black-belt. I think I’m pretty good.” My sensei said I had a natural talent for it, but saying so felt like bragging.
We reached the hotel, stepped out of the flow of traffic, and paused in the lobby. I wasn’t ready for this night to end. Evan faced me but never broke contact. Admiration shone on his face. “That’s wicked. I bet you’re better than you let on. Why don’t you do that, then? Are the jobs hard to get?”
I didn’t do that , because I was too shy to stand in front of a class and teach. I’d thought I could do it, but I flopped fantastically during my interview audition. Completely froze, in front of a group of new students. I couldn’t admit that to Evan, though. “I’m not good enough to ne an instructor.”
He traced his fingers lightly down my arm. “You’re being modest.”
“There’s no way you can know that.” I desperately wanted the conversation to focus on anything but me. I didn’t mind the attention—I couldn’t think of the last time anyone was so interested in hearing about my life, and it made me feel wonderfully gooey inside. But if we talked about it much longer, I had a feeling I’d have to keep making things up, to hold his interest, and temporary relationship or not, I didn’t like the idea of deceiving him. “Did you have to go to school for your job? I mean, of course you did.”
“Yup.” His mouth twisted, and he studied me. “Five years, Master’s of Science. I did a little sparring in Basic, but nothing as intensive as aikido.”
And now we were back on me. “Basic. As in… You were in the army.”
“Four years. It’s how I paid for college. And learned to work on and fly helicopters. Would you show me some of what you know?”
The request knocked me off guard. “What? Like, now?”
“Sure.” He tugged my fingers. “Hotel’s got a workout room with yoga mats. Show me a couple of throws or tumbles?”
He was a foot taller than me and had to be at least fifty pounds heavier, and he wanted me to show him some throws? “I’m not really dressed for it.”
“Nothing intensive.” He pulled me toward the exercise room. “Unless you really don’t want to.”
Did I? The answer rushed to me more quickly than I expected, almost bowling over my thoughts. “I’d definitely like to.”
The room was empty. At least that was something. I set my shoes by the edge of the pads, and he mimicked my actions. My heart hammered in my chest with both fear and excitement. I wanted to impress him, but I also didn’t want anyone to get hurt.
I moved to the center of one of the workout spot, and he hovered at the edge, watching. I grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, then spun so he was behind me. He wrapped his arm around my neck and pressed into my back, and a shock of familiarity raced through me. “I like this kind of demonstration,” he purred, lips touching the back of my neck.
It would be easy to say forget it . Sink into his touch. The temptation surged inside, and I pushed it back. Easy, but somehow also not right, with only the two of us here. “Relax your
Christiane Shoenhair, Liam McEvilly