He picks up his phone and types quickly, then sets it down.
“What did you say?” I ask.
“That you overheard talk of a trafficking ring using Timber Creek as a route. And that your ex is likely connected.”
My chest tightens. “I don’t want to be the reason your lives get complicated.”
He looks at me like that’s the strangest thing he’s ever heard. “Fiona, this is literally our job.”
“Still,” I say. “I didn’t mean to bring trouble to your door.”
He holds my gaze. “Trouble finds us. You just gave it a name.”
We finish dinner, and I insist on helping clean up, which turns into him washing and me drying because he says I’ll “break something important,” and honestly? Fair.
When the kitchen’s done, he leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. “Want to learn something?” he asks.
“Like… how to cook a steak without selling my soul?”
He huffs a laugh. “Self-defense.”
My stomach flips. “You think I need it?”
“I think everyone should have it,” he says. “And I think it’ll help you feel a little more in control.”
I consider that. Then nod. “Okay. But if you throw me across the room, I’m suing.”
“Deal,” he says. “We’ll start simple.”
We move to the open space near the fireplace. He shows me how to stand, how to keep my balance, how to shift my weight.
“Rule one,” he says, stepping closer, “you don’t wait for someone to be gentle with you. You create space and you get away.” He demonstrates a basic wrist escape, his hands warm and firm around mine. “Twist here. Step back. Use your body, not just your arms.”
I try it. Fail. Try again. “Like this?” I ask.
“Almost,” he says, adjusting my stance. His hands are on my hips now, guiding me. My breath stutters, and I hate that my body notices before my brain does.
“Okay,” I say, a little breathless. “Now you’re just showing off.”
“Focus,” he says, but his voice is lower too.
We run through it again. Then a shoulder break. Then how to use an elbow.
“Again,” he says.
I swing. He blocks easily.
“Again.”
I try harder. He catches my wrist and pulls me in just enough that I have to step closer to keep my balance. We’re suddenly… very close. Too close. I can feel his breath. The heat of him. The way his hands are steady on my arms, like he’s anchoring me.
The room feels smaller. My heart is loud.
“You’re doing good,” he says quietly.
“Don’t encourage me,” I whisper. “I’ll get cocky.”
His mouth twitches. “Already did.”