“Let’s talk about what to do if there’s more than one attacker,” Saint said, switching back into professional mode. When he’d said my name in that tone of voice, I’d known he was about to shut me down. I’d made the mistake of flirting with him, and he’d rightly put a stop to it. It wasn’t fair of me to put him in that position after he’d already told me he’d get in trouble with his boss if anything happened between us.

He stepped close to me and positioned me by putting his hands on my hips. “Okay, stand here.”

I felt my entire body come alive and all the blood shift south. There was no way I’d be able to hide the massive hard-on I had for him if we couldn’t find a way to get back to client and trainer only.

I was beginning to realize the inevitability of my feelings for him, and I’d caught myself spending way too much time going back and forth about whether those feelings were acceptable or not. I wasn’t a child for god’s sake. Why couldn’t I be sexually attracted to whomever I wanted without feeling a rush of guilt and humiliation?

Because I knew that if I ever actually pursued a same-sex relationship, the media would have a field day with it and my mother would lose her ever-loving shit. I hated the knowledge that the suffocating environment of my childhood had created those feelings of guilt inside of me. Logically, I knew I should be able to be myself, but I still harbored the feeling of obligation to my family for supporting me with everything I’d ever needed, including the extended education that helped me pursue my dream job. I’d always thought that “ruining” their reputation by coming out would be a shitty way to show my appreciation for all they’d done.

We spent the next hour going through the basics of throwing one attacker into the other, targeting the man in charge first, and other tactics for escaping from a multipronged attack. During our next water break, Saint told me the only thing left to learn was defending against the use of weapons.

Having to fight my physical response to him throughout an entire other session was untenable. I just couldn’t do it—couldn’t take it anymore. Being near him and not able to run my hands over him the way I wanted to or kiss him when his face was close to mine was just… excruciating.

He looked at me with clear blue-gray eyes. “So we can stop for the day or—”

“No. Let’s keep going,” I said before he had a chance to finish. “Now that I know there might be more going on here than I thought, I want to be prepared.”

He looked at me for a beat before nodding. “Okay. Let me go get some props. Why don’t we take five?”

I made my way to the men’s room and then stopped to grab another couple of bottles of water. When I returned to the training room, Saint was running his hands through his hair. He looked stressed.

“Water?” I asked, holding out a bottle to him. His face cleared and he smiled his thanks while reaching out to take the offered drink. “Ah, I didn’t ask if you were okay to stay. Do you need to go?”

“What? No, not at all. I’m fine. Just got a text from my sister while you were gone, that’s all. Sorry.” He took a sip of water and then put both of our bottles on the floor by the wall before returning to where I stood.

“Everything all right?” I asked. “Which sister?”

He nodded and picked up some items that had been lying on the floor. “MJ. She’s my twin. She’s decided to stay in Hobie and take a few days off to take care of Neckie. You know Neckie, the owner of Twist?”

“Yeah, I know Neckie. Is it her pregnancy?”

“I guess her blood pressure is giving her trouble, so they’ve got her on bed rest. MJ’s worried.”

“Are they good friends?” I asked, wondering how that worked when MJ was one of the Wildes who lived in Dallas.

Saint’s lips widened into a grin. “My grandfather set them up last weekend. Turns out they’ve both had a crush on each other since middle school. You should have seen the two of them blushing at each other at my grandparents’ house last night. No wonder poor Neckie’s BP is high.”

“I can imagine finally getting together with someone you really like and not being able to jump their bones.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I froze.

Saint’s eyebrows furrowed, and I scrambled to take back my words.

“I… I didn’t mean… I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He stepped closer and cupped my jaw. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

Before I could say anything other than a whimper, two people popped their head into the room, causing us to jump apart.

“We’re out of here. Lock up behind yourself, Wilde.” The man speaking was someone I didn’t recognize, but he had a very military look about him, which indicated he worked there. The second person was a woman dressed in a black business suit and wearing an earwig. I assumed she was one of the bodyguards on staff and had come from or was going to an assignment.

“Will do,” Saint called. He turned to me. “What the hell time is it?”

I shrugged since my phone was with my clothes in my locker. Saint grabbed his and cursed. “I didn’t realize it was already after five. Should we do a little more and then get a bite to eat?”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, let’s work.”

We stood and made our way to the center of the mat. When he reached out his hand to give me one of the items he was holding, I realized it was a gun. I almost dropped it on the floor.

“What the fuck?” I cried, bobbling it in my hand until I could get a firm grip on it.

Saint’s eyes bugged out, and he started to laugh. “Easy, killer. It’s not loaded.”

“Shit,” I snapped. “You could have fucking warned me you were handing me a weapon.”

His large warm hand came down on my shoulder as his other hand took the gun out of my own.

“Augie, this is a prop. It’s fake. Well, not fake exactly, but a pellet gun used for recreation. See the orange tip? We use them as dummy weapons sometimes for practice. I promise it’s not going to bite you.”

I realized my hands were shaking, and I felt cold. “I hate guns.”

Those gorgeous eyes studied me as his hand squeezed my shoulder gently. “I can see that,” he said gently. “I think maybe we should hold off on the instruction and have a conversation about that first.”

“It’s not necessary,” I assured him with a shake of my head. I had no need to be seen as the coward around him yet again. I didn’t want to lose whatever shred of dignity I might still have in his eyes by revealing just how much of a baby I was. “Let’s continue.”

I reached forward and took the gun out of his hands before looking up at him. If he had any care at all for me, he would let me do this without first having to have a conversation about my feelings. I’d had enough of feeling vulnerable lately to last a lifetime.

Saint hesitated before stepping back. “Okay. Let’s begin. Hold the muzzle against my forehead.”

I tilted my head, wondering if I’d heard him right. “What? Why?”

“So I can demonstrate how to get out of the position,” he explained. “You’ll be surprised at how simple this move is. Here, go ahead.” He nodded at the weapon in my hand.

I followed his gaze to the gun before looking back up at him. Nerves knotted in my gut. I had to keep reminding myself that it was fake.

“How do I check to make sure it’s empty?” I heard myself ask. My mental voice sounded like it was being spoken through sludge in an echo chamber.

“That’s a great question. It never hurts to triple-check.” Saint took the gun from me and opened it to show me there was nothing in it. When he handed it back to me, he stood ready for me, arms at his sides.

At that point, my whole face was numb, and I could barely even feel my hands anymore. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d heard the gun slap to the ground on the mat at my feet. I tried raising it, keeping it pointed at the wall to our right instead of at Saint.

“Right here, my forehead,” he reminded me. “Even if it wasn’t a prop, it’s not loaded. You just saw that for yourself. Thanks for that, by the way,” he said with a small smile. “That was kinda sweet if you want to know the truth.”

I didn’t even register his comment because my brain had started to completely shut down. There was a roaring in my head and a dark fog at the edges of my vision. Saint seemed to still be joking with me, most likely sensing my nerves and trying to put me at ease, but I couldn’t hear him.

When he grabbed my hand and swung the gun around to press against his forehead, everything went dark.