I thought maybe I’d made a huge mistake. I’d agreed to Rory’s suggestion of the self-defense class to feel empowered and strong, but I was already feeling off-kilter and dizzy. The man with… the man with all the muscles seemed to delight in teasing me.

That wasn’t going to make me feel more powerful. Perhaps I needed to request a new trainer.

I turned to the woman at the reception counter and raised a finger to speak. Before a single word came out of my mouth, Gigantor stepped closer and put his humongous paw on my back to nudge me deeper into the building. I swallowed my tongue and tried to keep up with his long strides, which wasn’t easy considering I was walking on little toothpick legs.

The feeling of that large warm hand through my coat sent shivers through me as we walked. I wondered what the hell was wrong with me. Was he so big and strong that I was having some kind of caveman fear response? I refused to think of any other explanation. I sure as shit wasn’t attracted to the beast. He wasn’t even close to being my type. I didn’t enjoy being overpowered. I’d had enough of that in school growing up with an asshole cousin. The only thing that had saved me then was having a bigger brain and quicker wit. I wondered if the same tools could best this muscleman.

I allowed him to lead me to the small men’s locker room where he grabbed a similar getup to the one he was wearing: black athletic trainer pants and a matching Landen Safekeeping top. He handed over the small stack of items and looked at me expectantly. I took them and asked where the restroom was.

“Over there,” he said, pointing to a doorway behind us. I nodded as if it was a totally normal dude thing to bail on changing in a locker room and made my way to a stall. I didn’t care if he thought I was a weirdo; I was not changing clothes in front of that bodybuilder.

He was like eleven feet tall and ripped. No freaking way. I had enough body issues as it was without revealing my little-boy body to this manly man. I was what people would generously call “lean.” But what that really meant was “skinny as shit and breakable.”

I changed as quickly as I could and tried not to think about walking barefoot out of a men’s room. The entire time I tiptoed across selected clean-looking tiles, I chanted to myself, “You’re here to kick ass, you’re here to kick ass, you’re here to—”

“Follow me,” Saint said as he took my pile of clothes and chucked them in a locker before leading me out to the workout center.

The fitness studio was larger than it looked from the street. The rear portion of the building held the locker rooms, an empty classroom, and a large space that seemed set up for other types of training that required mats like boxing or martial arts. Maybe there was even a gun range or something. Just the thought made my stomach lurch, but after the break-in, I couldn’t help but wonder if I should consider buying a gun.

“Do you shoot?” I asked suddenly, feeling my face heat with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, what?” Saint asked, looking back over his shoulder in confusion.

“Guns, I mean. Do you shoot guns?” Oh my god, is it possible to sound this stupid in real life?

Saint held the door open to the large area with soft mats lining the floor. I entered the room and felt my arm brush against his as I walked past. A tingly feeling bloomed over my skin where our bodies connected, and I felt myself blush yet again. What was it about this man that made me super-aware of his body? Of my own body? Was it because he was so big? Was he intimidating me?

He should be intimidating me based on his size, his looks, and how I’d always felt fearful around bigger guys like my cousin Brett and his football friends. But for some reason, the man in front of me seemed harmless. Maybe it was his messy blond hair and baby face. It was too bad, really. But it most likely explained why he was a self-defense teacher instead of a real bodyguard out in the field.

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.

“Huh?” I asked.

“What?” His mouth was right in front of my eyes, and I tried hard not to stare at it when he spoke.

I blinked. “I missed that last part. About the cupping, I mean.” What the hell? Did I just really say that?

His lips parted in a soft smile, and I saw that silly tooth again. Jesus, what the hell was happening to me?

“The ear clap. Let me start again,” he said.

I had a stern conversation with myself about the reasons why I was there that included a reminder to myself that I was most definitely not interested in how that man, or any other man for that matter, smelled or looked. Or anything to do with groins.

“The ear clap,” I confirmed. “Yes.”

He ran through the maneuver again, and this time when he put his hand over my ear I definitely did not feel goose bumps rise up on my neck and scalp at his touch. I also did not notice the warmth of his skin or the tingle of his touch.

Maybe it had been a little too long since someone had touched me sexually, so now I was interpreting any touch as sexual. I thought about reactivating my hookup app to see if there was a decent opportunity for a casual connection out here in little Hobie, but I quickly dismissed the idea. Based on how high my anxiety was these days since the break-in, I could only imagine the panic attack I’d have in a stranger’s bed.

As Saint stepped closer to me, I inhaled his scent and let my eyes drift closed for the briefest moment.

At least for now, I was completely safe in his company.

But I’d be damned if I’d let him see how much that meant to me.