by Jennie Marts
He reared back. “Geez, you don’t pull any punches, do you?” She really was getting more comfortable with him. He rubbed his stomach. “I thought we were talking about you. But that one hit me right in the gut.”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” she muttered, her eyes downcast as she twisted her hands in her lap.
Cole set his plate on top of hers, then reached for one of her hands and laced her fingers through his. “It’s okay. You can talk to me about whatever you want. And yeah, those things did shape who I was, but if I’m being honest, I don’t think I used either one of them to make me stronger. In hindsight, I probably used them as excuses to act like an asswad and push away the people who meant the most to me. Losing my dad happened to me, but the accident and everything that happened afterward were essentially my own fault. My actions and reactions to that accident and my injuries affected the trajectory of my life.”
And still affected it. He was still letting the accident and his subsequent behaviors dictate the way he lived his life. All the favors, all the volunteer work, everything he did played a role in making up for that time and what a jerk he’d been. But was he really using those events to make himself stronger?
Colt swallowed, pushing down the answers that were forcing themselves up his throat. He didn’t want to cough up all that garbage, all that history, didn’t want to spew the filth of his bad decisions onto the new, clean landscape of their budding relationship. No, they could work on that stuff later. Or never. Yeah, never would work great for him.
Best to turn the focus to something else. “I’ll admit having my dad die when I was a kid absolutely changed me. No kid should ever have to lose their parent.”
Chloe huffed out a breath. “I wouldn’t know about that. I didn’t lose mine. She ran away, then chose not to be found.”
His heart hurt for her. “Which is a real sucky thing to do to a kid. But that wasn’t your fault.”
She stared at him. “According to my dad it was.”
“Speaking of asswads,” Colt muttered not quite under his breath. He held up his hands. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay. He could be a…buttwad.” She paused before saying the offensive name, then covered her mouth with her hand and tried not to laugh.
“Speaking of buttwads, I want to talk about Rank Johnson.”
Her smile fell. “Ugh. Why? I’d be happy never to talk about that man again.”
Colt let go of her hand and pushed back the coffee table. “We have to talk about him because we need a plan of attack for when he comes back. And like a bad penny, men like Rank always come back.”
Chapter 15
A shiver ran through Chloe at the thought of Rank coming back, of him entering her house or putting his filthy hands on her again.
“I saw that shiver,” Colt said. “And I want you to hold on to that. Use all the rage and anger and disgust you have toward him to fuel your own attack.”
“My own attack? I don’t plan on attacking him.” For the moment, she just wanted Rank to go away so she could pretend none of the scene in her house had happened. But she couldn’t do that. Not to herself. Or to the kids who she had failed to protect. She took a deep breath. No, she couldn’t let that happen again.
“I know you don’t. And I hope the cops catch him before he gets a chance to come at you again. But in the meantime, I want you to be prepared just in case you have to face him.”
“Okay.”
He stood and looked down at her. “Have you ever taken a self-defense class before?”
She shook her head, silently admonishing herself for such a stupid mistake. She should have taken classes, should have done something, anything to learn how to defend herself. Instead of being the weak little timid mouse she was.
Colt narrowed his eyes and reached out a hand to pull her to her feet. “There’s no blame or shame in that question. There are plenty of things we think we should have done or have never got around to doing. Hindsight is a mother. But we’re going to do something about it now.”
“Now?” She looked down at her bare legs and feet. “Shouldn’t I put on some shoes or at least some pants or something?”
He grinned. “No.” Then he waved his hand in front of her. “Sorry. Forget that suggestive grin. My mind wandered for a minute. I’m focused now—all business.”
“Got it. All business.” She nodded and pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. He was cute when he was serious.
“You never know when an attack could happen. You could be outside going for a walk, or at home in your pajamas. I want you to be prepared for whatever circumstance you might find yourself in.”
Chloe swallowed, terrified at the thought of an assailant breaking into her home and catching her unprepared and in her pajamas.
Colt ran his hand up the side of her arm and gave her an encouraging squeeze. “That’s why we’re doing this. So you don’t have to be scared.”
Why did it feel like he always knew what she was thinking? “Okay, I’m ready. Where do we start?”
“With you. No disrespect intended, but most men are going to be bigger and stronger than you.”
“Agreed.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be smarter and tougher than they are.”
“I’ll give you the smarter part, but I’m not sure about the tougher. I have a hard time killing a spider.”
He shrugged. “That’s because spiders are tiny, predatory, eight-eyed assholes that can make even the most badass man scream like a girl and throw his boot across the room to kill one. Present company excluded.”
She kept her expression deadpan. “Of course.”
He cleared his throat. “Let’s get back to talking about you.” He motioned for her to stand next to him. “Your arms and legs are your best weapons. And sometimes your only defense. You don’t have to be able to throw a punch or do some kind of karate kick, but a well-placed knee or elbow jab can sometimes startle or disable your assailant for a few seconds, and a few seconds may be all you need to get away.”
“Am I launching an attack or just trying to get away?”
“That depends on where you are and how quickly you can get to somewhere safe. If help is in sight or you can run, then I think your focus should always be on getting away. But if you have no other way out, then you have to be ready to take him out. If it’s him or you, you want to be the last one standing. Right?”
She nodded.
“One of the things that freaks out a lot of people is worrying they will freeze up in the moment because they don’t know what to do or are worried they’ll be too afraid to fight.”
She cut her eyes to the floor, shame filling her like rain in an empty bucket. “That’s exactly what I did. I froze and couldn’t do anything.”
His expression softened. “There was a whole lot of other stuff that played into that encounter. I don’t want you to beat yourself up. I want to teach you some moves that will boost your confidence and have you trusting yourself and believing you can fight back. That’s one of the most important things you can do in an attack situation—believe you have the power to do something, to fight back. I know you have a lot of anger wrapped up in the way your dad and Rank treated you, so use that anger to your advantage. Channel it into aggression against your attacker.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but anger isn’t going to help me get away.”
“Not by itself. But it will fuel your hits. When you’re in a confrontation, you only have a few seconds, so you want to aim for the most effective body parts to hit, the ones where you can do the most damage the easiest. The eyes, nose, ears, neck, groin, knee, and legs. How close you are to your attacker determines which zone to strike first. If you’re striking the upper part of the body, you want to use your hands and go for the eyes, nose, ear, and throat. Gouge, poke, scratch a
t their eyes.” He picked up her hand and turned it over. “You might not be real tall, but your arm gives you another couple feet of height, and you can use your momentum to drive your palm up and under your assailant’s nose. Throw your whole body weight into this move, and it will force him to loosen his grip on you.”
He demonstrated the move and let her practice a couple of times. “Your elbows, knees, and head are also effective weapons, and those are among the most sensitive spots when hit. So whacking your assailant in their elbows, knees, or head is the best way to inflict damage. Jam your elbow into their gut, stomp on their feet, or kick the front of their kneecap as hard as you can. A knee to the groin is still a good move, but it’s one assailants prepare for and try to block.” He showed her a few more moves and walked her through various strike positions.
She listened intently, cataloging all the moves in her head and going through the steps he showed her multiple times. Some of the ideas seemed so simple, like the kick to the kneecap or jab to the nose, but when she thought about how much it hurt to get hit in the nose or the knee, she realized how effective those hits could be and how much damage she could do.
Every run-through of the actions made her feel more empowered, like she could actually do some of these things. Even in just a shirt and her undies, she felt like she could put up a fight.
“What if I don’t have time to prepare? What if he surprises me and grabs me from behind?”
“Good question. And something that could actually happen, so I’m glad you asked.” Colt stepped behind her and wrapped her in a bear hug. “This is a common hold an assailant will use. It’s also something my brothers used to do to me, and still try, so I’m fairly proficient at this one. Granted, I’m not trying to hurt them…well, not much.” He chuckled, then tightened his grip on her. “Mason and I taught Quinn and Max this move too, since they have to endure Rock now and his love of wrestling.”
“Smart. And if Max can do this, so can I.” Chloe lifted her chin and pushed her shoulders back to stand taller.
“That’s right. You can do this. And it’s not that hard. The first thing you want to do is bend your knees like you’re going into a squat. Let the full weight of your body drag you down and out of his grip. Leveraging your weight is one of your best tools both to escape and for inflicting the most damage.”
She dropped her weight like he’d said, but his arms were still gripped tightly around her chest.
“Now wiggle.”
“Wiggle?”
“Yeah, wiggle yourself free.”
She moved her shoulders, but his grip didn’t budge.
“Come on, you’re not even trying,” he said. “You ever try to give your cat a bath?”
“Yes, I guess. But I fail to see what Agatha’s hygiene has to do with me getting away from a bad guy.”
“It has everything to do with it. Imagine how Agatha would respond if you were holding her over a tub of water. You want to act like that—squirm, wiggle, bite, kick, jab—make yourself as difficult as possible to control. And if you can get lower, you have more places you can strike.”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes. You got this. She dropped her weight and wiggled. And squirmed and jabbed him in the side. And he let go with an oomph of air.
But he let go.
“I did it.” She jumped up and down, causing Watson, who had been observing their odd behavior from his spot on the couch, to raise his head and let out a bark.
“It’s okay, boy. We’re just playing,” Colt assured the dog as he ruffled his ears.
Adrenaline surged through her. She could do this. She could get away. Could fight if she had to. She wasn’t a victim, wasn’t weak.
But all these moves were designed for an attack. What if Rank really tried to kill her? Could she still defend herself? Could she really get away? The thought sobered her, and she flashed to the night before when he’d broken down her door and stormed into her house. She put her hand on Colt’s arm. “What if he’s really trying to kill me? What do I do if he gets his hands around my throat?”
His eyes narrowed to steely slits. “If he gets you around the throat, I’ll kill the man myself.” He shook his head. “Sorry, that image got me for a second, but this is about you protecting yourself, not me coming in to save you.” He picked up her hand. “I’m teaching you these moves, and I want you to feel confident that you can use them if you have to. But I still want you to know I will do everything in my power to make sure you don’t find yourself in a position to have to use this stuff.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Tears burned her eyes, and she turned away so he wouldn’t see how much his words meant to her.
“Despite my male pride getting in the way, you’re right to ask. And I want you to be prepared for every instance, especially because this is a common tactic.” He stepped behind her and wrapped his arm around her throat.
Even though she knew he was only acting the part, the feel of his forearm cutting across her windpipe and the strength of his biceps reminded her of how vulnerable she truly was. Rank was a big man, built of solid muscle, so a few jabs of her elbows weren’t going to inflict much damage.
“If you are in a full choke hold, time is of the essence,” Colt told her. “You don’t want to mess around. Turn your chin into the arm that’s choking you, and raise your shoulders while you dig your chin into his arm. If you can, use your teeth. Bite his arm, and try to stomp on his instep, anything to get him to loosen his grip and give you the chance to twist out of his hold.”
She nodded, then pressed her chin into his arm while turning her body toward him.
“Ouch.” He pulled back his arm, rubbing his bicep. “Dang woman, you have one strong chin.”
It worked. She’d done it. She raised her shoulder and flashed him a teasing grin. “And I didn’t even have to bite you. Not yet anyway.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to him and nuzzling her neck. “You are stronger than you can imagine and tougher than you think. You can do anything you set your mind to. You just have to believe you can do it.”
His words touched something inside her—some secret place that had been waiting to hear those declarations. She melted against him, finding his lips and kissing him with everything she had, telling him through her actions, her passion, how much his belief in her and her abilities meant.
She was stronger than she’d thought, and she could do anything she set her mind too. And right now, her mind was set on one thing—having him. Here. Now.
Once again, he knew exactly what she was thinking, and his hands scrabbled with the buttons of her shirt, unfastening each one, then opening the lapels and slipping his hands inside. His palms skimmed over her skin, caressing her stomach, her waist, her hips.
The fire crackled and popped, lighting the room with an amber glow as her shirt dropped to the floor and they sank onto the pillows. They kissed and touched and made out with the fervor of a couple of teenagers until they couldn’t take it any longer, and he carried her to his bed.
Later, much later, they lay curled together, her back against his chest, his arm wrapped possessively around her rib cage, his palm cupping her breast as if he needed to hold on to it to make sure it didn’t escape while he slept.
Her body felt sated, achy but good. She dipped her chin and pressed a kiss to the corded muscle of his forearm. “Good night, Colt,” she whispered.
His voice was sleepy, but she could still hear the mischief in it as his breath tickled her ear. “Good night, cupcake.”
* * *
The snow had stopped by the next morning. Chloe stood in the kitchen, sipping coffee from a red mug with a picture of a cow on the side that read “Sorry for what I said when we were working cattle” as she stared out the big picture window. The sun danced and sparkled over the frozen lake, and the idyllic scene looked like something from a postcard
.
Colt had made her breakfast, and they’d washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen together. It had been a perfect morning, a perfect couple of days, and she wished they could stay here forever, just the two of them. And the dog and the cat, of course.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Like every good fantasy, this one was about to come to a screaming end. She turned to Colt, who casually leaned against the kitchen counter and had just invited her to go to Sunday dinner at his mom’s house.
“It’s kind of her thing,” he said. “Everyone’s expected to show up on the first Sunday of the month. Logan and the Rivers’ crew are invited as well. We have dinner together most every Sunday, but Communion Sunday is sacred. Unless you’re bleeding or in the hospital, your butt had better be in a chair. Rock was the only one of us who ever got a pass. With him being famous and all, she figured his coach overruled her as long as he was paying Rock’s check.”
“I’d love to go.” Love to like she’d love to get a root canal or a colonoscopy. Something told her that when they stepped through those doors, when they went back to the real world with other people, with his family, everything would change. “But I don’t have anything to wear. Maybe I should just go back to town and let you go by yourself.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be silly. It’s not fancy. It’s just family. And you can borrow something of mine, if you want.”
Yeah, she was sure that would go over really well. The first meal with his family, and she shows up in his clothes. They’d never guess she and Colt had been together or what they’d been doing. Heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll figure something out.”
“I thought with all the snow, it would be fun to ride the ATV over, so jeans will be good.”
The clothes she’d thrown into her bag on Friday night were still clean, since she’d spent most of the day before either naked or in one of Colt’s shirts. She took a quick shower and realized her hands were shaking as she tried to apply a layer of mascara.
Why was she so nervous? These were perfectly nice people, and this wasn’t the first time she’d be meeting them. Because she’d been Max’s teacher last year as well, she’d spent plenty of time with Quinn and Ham, her dad. And she’d worked with Vivi in the snack bar at the alumni hockey game earlier that summer. But that was as Chloe, the schoolteacher, not as Chloe, the vixen sleeping with her son.
