by Jennie Marts
“We like being around you, too.” He probably enjoyed having her around too much.
Maybe he wouldn’t think about her so much if he didn’t have to look at her every day over the breakfast table. “And speaking of being concerned about you, did you have any trouble with the Purvis brothers today? Did they come in to bother you?”
She shook her head. “Nope, I didn’t see them all day.”
“Taylor told me that he went out and had another talk with them—told them about your accident and that the sheriff’s department was looking into the cause. Hopefully he put the fear of God into them, and they’ll leave you alone now.”
“That would be great.”
She was pretty great. And he was feeling great sitting next to her. Too great. He needed to dial it back. “So, how is Stan doing?”
“Stan? The cook at the diner? He’s fine, I guess. He’s a funny guy, he keeps all of us laughing throughout the day.”
“I never got to ask if you had a good time hanging out with him while you all had pizza the other night.” He tried to keep the jealous note out of his voice, but he was failing miserably. He sounded like a dope.
Emma turned to him, one of her eyebrows raised, and he knew she was on to him. “I had a great time at pizza the other night hanging out with everyone. I wasn’t there just with Stan.”
“But he seems like a pretty good guy. He’s nice, and like you said, he’s funny and all. I was just thinkin’ he might be a good candidate for you to consider dating.” Yeah, that was smooth, real smooth.
She burst out laughing. “First of all, I’m flattered that you’ve put so much thought into who would be a good ‘candidate’ for me to consider, but my dating life is not a presidential campaign. Stan and I are just friends. I’m not interested in dating him at all. My interests lie elsewhere at the moment. But I sure appreciate your concern.”
Her tone held a teasing note, and he couldn’t tell if she meant her “interests” were in her job and getting back on her feet or in another man. Even though he’d been pushing for Stan, the thought of her interested in another man had his gut churning with envy.
Time to change the subject. Before he said something really stupid.
“I saw you through the window,” he said. “It looks to me like you’re enjoying the job and feeling more comfortable.”
“I am. I only have to give myself the ‘pretend you are brave’ pep talk a few times a day now, instead of every ten minutes.”
He chuckled. “Emma, I think you have scads more courage than you give yourself credit for. But you obviously don’t see yourself that way. Tell me what being brave means to you. Like name me three things that you feel you can’t do because you’re not brave enough.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “I can name you twenty. I’m scared of everything. Of trying new things and going into new situations.”
“Twenty might be a little hard to tackle, but we can try three. Don’t overthink it. What are the first three things that pop into your head that you wish you had the courage to do?”
She sat up taller in the seat. “Okay, I wish I had the courage to be able to defend myself and stand up to Leroy and his brothers and not feel like a scared little mouse whenever they are around.”
“Okay, what else. What’s something that you’ve been scared to try?”
“Um, I’ve always wanted to learn how to ride a horse, but the idea of trying scares me to death.”
“What? You grew up on a farm, and you never learned to ride?”
She shrugged. “I was so timid and shy as a girl. I was more interested in sewing and crafts and had my nose in a book most of the time.”
Those were the things he remembered most about her from high school. That she’d been shy, a little plain, and kept mostly to herself. She’d been the perfect target for a guy like Leroy. All he’d had to do was show her a little attention, and she would have fallen for him, not knowing that there were other types of guys out there. Good guys.
“Okay, what else? Name one more thing you’d like to try or learn to do. It doesn’t have to be rocket science; pick something simple that you feel like you can accomplish.”
“All right. This might sound silly, but I’d like to learn how to bake a pie. I’ve been sampling Cherry’s pies every day, and I keep wishing I could figure out how to make a pie myself.”
“Good. Excellent. That’s an attainable goal, and you have some great experts who can help you. Cherry could teach you. Or Sophie. Charlie’s grandmother, Gigi, taught Sophie how to cook from the time she could pull a stool up to the counter. She’s a talented little chef.”
“Okay. I’ll try to ask one of them for help. But asking for help would be a fourth thing to add to my list, ’cause I’m not very brave at doing that either.”
“Well, I’ll make that task easier. I can help with the first two things, and you don’t even have to ask me. I’m just offering.” He turned into the driveway of the farm. “We have a real sweet old mare that I could use to teach you to ride. We’ve even put little kids on her. The weather’s supposed to be great this weekend. How about if we plan a horseback ride for Saturday? I can take you out in the afternoon after you’re finished working at the diner.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’d like that. I think. My palms start to sweat just thinking about it, but I want to try. And if a little kid can ride this horse, I should be able to as well.”
“Good girl.” He put the truck in park and turned off the engine. “And as for the first thing, I think I can help with that, too.”
She gave him a skeptical glance. “You’re going to help me be less scared of Leroy and his brothers? How do you propose to do that?”
“By teaching you a few moves to defend yourself. And by empowering you with some self-defense techniques that might help boost your confidence when you’re around them.”
“Why would you know self-defense techniques? You don’t seem like you’re afraid of anything.”
If she only knew. He was afraid right now. Afraid of a woman who probably weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. Scared to death that he was in over his head and already had his heart invested in a game that he had no chance of winning.
“Remember, this is a small town and one of my best friends is the sheriff. He and Zack and I are all volunteer firemen, and Taylor had us trained as relief deputies, in case of an emergency or if we need to stand in to help with special events like the big rodeo we have in the summer. I know just enough to be dangerous.” He offered her a devilish grin and loved the way her cheeks tinged with color.
“I think that’s actually a pretty good idea. I don’t know if it will really help, like if I could really stand up to them physically when they are actually in front of me, but it can’t hurt to have a couple of tips under my belt.” She smiled up at him. “When do we start?”
“How about tonight? Come on out to the barn after supper, and I can show you some basic stuff.”
“Sounds good. I think Charlie is making spaghetti for supper.”
“One of my favorites. I need to finish up some chores, but tell her that I’ll be in after a bit.”
…
Emma crossed the driveway to the barn later that night. Cash had told her to wear comfortable clothes, so she’d put on a T-shirt, black yoga pants, and a pair of sneakers. She carried a lightweight sweater in case the night got cool.
Poking her head into the barn, she saw Cash standing at the workbench and paused to admire the view. He had on a pair of sweats and tennis shoes, and a snug-fitting black T-shirt, the sleeves hugging the finely toned muscles of his biceps.
He was magnificent. He reminded her of one of the stallions that galloped down the fence line of the pasture, or one of the new colts that he spent his time working with to break. His flirty manner was smooth, but his wild streak was still apparent, and he had a bit of a rough edge to him.
Which is probably what made him so irresistible to so many women.
Including her.
With the way her body was heating up just looking at him, she sure wasn’t going to need that sweater she held.
He turned around and gave her one of his wicked grins, and everything inside her melted into a puddle.
“Was that Zack’s truck I heard?” he asked.
“Yeah, he just picked up Charlie to take her to the airport. She said to call if you need anything.”
“I’m sure we can handle things on our own for a few days.” He rubbed his hands together. “You ready to get tough?”
No, she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t tough, and she didn’t know how to even begin to pretend to be. All she wanted to do right now was forget this silly idea, run back into the house, and hide under the cover of the blankets on her bed.
“I see you backing up,” Cash said. “Come on in here. I’m not gonna bite you.”
Oh Lord. Now why did he have to say that? Thoughts of him biting her, nipping at her skin, filled her mind, and her skin heated, making her even more frightened and desperate to run.
Pretend to be brave.
She forced herself to take a step forward. Then another, and another, until she stood in front of him. “I’m ready.”
He took her sweater and laid it on the workbench then pointed to the floor of the barn where he’d created a makeshift mat by layering clumps of hay and covering them with an old quilt. “Step on up here, and we can start with the basics.”
He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him lead her onto the improvised mat. Facing her, he bent forward in a combative stance. “Now an assailant is gonna come at you one of two ways. They’ll either come toward you head on or sneak up on you from behind.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“If they’re facing you, you have a few choices. Keep in mind, your main goal is to get away, and hopefully to keep them from chasing after you. You can always go for the tried and true method of kneeing them in the nuts, but it’s more effective to thrust the sole of your foot out and try to kick them in the kneecap. The kneecap is harder to protect than the groin or the face, and this will often incapacitate them, giving you a chance to run.”
She practiced the move, thrusting her foot out but stopping short of actually connecting with his knee. He showed her how to position her hand to shove her palm up and into an assailant’s face to break his nose.
He reached out and grabbed her wrists, and she automatically tried to pull away. “Now, if someone has a hold of your wrists, don’t try to pull away like that, instead, rotate your wrists until your thumbs line up with where their thumbs meet their fingers, so usually your palms are face down, then jerk back by sharply bending your arm at the elbow.”
She tried it, twisting her hands and jerking her arms back and was surprised at its effectiveness.
“Good job,” he said. “Now keep in mind, your head is often one of your best weapons. Not just to think, but a good hard head-butt to the solar plexus can knock the wind out of someone. Just make sure you’re looking at the ground when you ram your head into their gut.”
She laughed and tipped her head down in preparation to ram him. “This seems like a trick Clyde would use.”
“That old goat would take a nip out of you first. Which is an option, too. Use whatever you have at your disposal. Bite them, scratch them, kick them, whatever will inflict pain. And don’t forget to scream. A good battle cry can work in more ways than one. It can sometimes knock your attacker off-balance, giving you a chance to run, it signals for help, and it can also summon up your courage as you unleash that bottled-up fear and scream. Try it.”
“Try what?”
“Try to give a good scream.”
“Right now?”
“Sure. It’s a common fear that you won’t be able to scream when you need to, so it’s good to practice a few times just so you can know it feels.”
She gave a halfhearted stage scream.
He shook his head. “That was weak. You can do better.”
“I feel silly.”
“Don’t feel silly. Feel angry. Imagine if someone were trying to attack you and you needed help.” He gestured to the few animals in the barn. “No one’s around to even hear you, except me and a few critters, and we won’t care. Really do it. I want to hear you scream.”
Okay, that might have come out wrong. He did want to hear her scream, but only if she was in his bed and screaming his name. Several times.
Geez, focus buddy.
He shrugged at the raised eyebrow she was giving him. “You know what I mean.”
She offered him a chuckle. “Okay, here goes.” After taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth and tried another scream, this one a tad louder than the last.
“Louder,” he yelled, encouraging her with his own volume.
She screamed again.
“Louder.”
Curling her hands into fists, she closed her eyes and tipped her face up to the cavernous ceiling of the barn, then let out a ferocious shriek.
He grinned as she offered him a shrug. “Good job. How did that feel?”
“Kind of good actually.”
He liked the way her shoulders settled as she seemed to feel more at ease with him.
“So, you’ve shown me how to break a wrist hold and how to scream—and these are all great ideas, like if I were getting attacked in an alley by a stranger, but I know these guys. And Leroy was my husband. Was I supposed to break his nose?”
Cash narrowed his eyes at her, giving her a meaningful look. “He may have been your husband, but when he’s abusing you, he’s an assailant. And let me ask you this, has he ever broken your nose?”
She looked at the floor, staring at the errant strand of hay sticking out from under the quilt as she remembered a night that Leroy had put her in the emergency room. It was the first time he’d actually punched her in the face. She’d been so shocked by the violence and the pain of it, she couldn’t breathe. Then the blood filled her throat and ran down the front of her face, and a look of fear crossed Leroy’s face as he realized what he’d done.
After that he hadn’t hit her in the nose again.
“Only once,” she said softly, still avoiding his eyes. “I ended up at the hospital. So he didn’t try it again. He still gave me a black eye once in a while, but he usually avoided hitting me in the face.”
“And they say domestic abuse happens when the spouse is drunk or gets out of control.” He shook his head in disgust. “Bullshit. An abuser is in control, calculating where to hit you so it will show the least damage, often hitting you just hard enough to inflict pain, but not hard enough to put you in the hospital. Abuse is all about control.”
She tipped up her head, searching his eyes. “How do you know so much about it?”
“Because I lived it. I don’t talk about it much, try to avoid thinking about it if I can. But I guess I want you to know that you’re not alone. You’re not the only one this has happened to. My dad was a man with tendencies much the same as your ex-husband. I know the fear and the pain of being hurt by someone who’s supposed to love you. And the helplessness of watching someone abuse your mom and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”
“I had no idea.” Was this why he was so good to her? Why he went out of his way to protect her? Because he wanted to help someone now when he couldn’t help his mom before? “I’m sorry.”
He nodded, a quick bob of his head, his eyes conveying compassion but not pity. He didn’t feel sorry for her, he empathized with where she’d been, and he understood her. “It was a long time ago. And the only reason I told you was so you’d know that I understand what you’ve been through. And that’s part of why I want to help you. So you never have to feel that helpless again.”
His face changed, his lips turning up into a devilish grin, as he gave her a wicked grin. “And ’cause you’re pretty.”
She laughed, the sound bursting from her before she could stop it. She knew he was only trying to lighten the mood, and it had worked. Sla
pping playfully at him, she teased him back. “You’re kind of pretty yourself.”
What the heck? It was a rare enough feeling to have a man flirt with her. And did she just flirt back? She must be getting braver after all.
The grin stayed on his face, and he circled around her. “You ready for part two of your lesson?”
She swallowed. As long as he kept grinning at her like that, she thought she’d be ready for just about anything.
He moved quickly, coming up behind her and wrapping his arm tightly around her chest, pinning her against his torso.
Okay, she hadn’t been ready for that.
A quick jolt of fear ran through her as she fought against him. But her movements were ineffectual. She was helpless against his strength.
“Most attackers rely on the element of surprise, and they don’t want you to see their faces. You’re more vulnerable in this position, especially if your assailant is stronger, which he usually will be. It takes me little effort to hold you here.”
She struggled against him. “I can’t even move.”
“Okay, so what can you do? What do you have at your disposal? Remember I told you to bite, scratch, or kick them. Stomp your foot down on their instep, bite down on their hand or scratch at their arm. If you can reach back, try to pull on their ear or poke them in the eye. Shove your head back to break their nose. Or use your elbows to jab into their gut. All you need is for them to loosen their hold just enough to allow you to turn and attack or to get free and run.”
She practiced getting the feel for jabbing him with her elbow and kicking back at his instep or his knees.
“Think about your surroundings. What do you have around you that you can use as a weapon? Jab him with your keys, spray hairspray at him, throw dirt in his face, hit him with anything heavy that might be around you. Look around us now. What could you use as a weapon?”
She looked around the barn and pointed out several items. “The pitchfork, the shovel, any of the tools on your workbench.”
“Good. Those are all great ideas. Think out of the box, too. Slapping someone with the leather straps of that bridle would hurt, even throwing grain at someone’s face could cause some of it to get in their eyes, giving you that split second to get away.”
