by J E McDonald
“Learning how to protect yourself is smart.”
“Do you know karate?”
“I never learned at a dojo, no.”
“It says to bring a friend,” she said, looking up at him.
“It does,” he agreed, tipping his head at her.
His blue and amber eyes scanned her face. They pulled her in, those eyes that held secrets, and she found herself leaning toward him. “Want to come with me?” she asked when he didn’t jump at the hint she’d given. “It’s tonight at six thirty. Not that I couldn’t go on my own, obviously, but things are more fun when you have a friend along.”
His expression didn’t change as he read the details on the flyer. When he didn’t answer right away, she took a step back, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “Forget I asked,” she said, reaching for the flyer. “It was a silly idea.”
He snatched it out of her grasp. “I’ll come.”
She dropped her hand, some of her embarrassment fading. “Are you sure?”
He nodded.
Though her heart beat a hopeful tempo, she tried to act indifferent. “I can meet you there, and I’ll let you keep the flyer so you know where to go.”
“I’ll remember,” he murmured, then passed the flyer back.
The look in his eyes made her heart stutter in her chest. A strange sort of energy crackled between them, and Aubrey stood mesmerized and immobile. Was that interest she saw there? Had he been thinking about her last night in the same way she’d been thinking of him?
The store phone rang, breaking the tension between them. Letting out a long breath, Aubrey turned away and reached for the receiver. “Relics Antique Store,” she said after clearing her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Roman pick up the box of recycling.
Silence greeted her on the other end of the line.
“Hello, is anyone there?” she asked after a few seconds. Sometimes long-distance calls took a bit of time to connect. Roman paused halfway to the back door, looking over his shoulder at her with a frown.
She shrugged at him and was about to hang up when a boisterous male voice on the other end of the line said, “I have an estate sale. Come take a look.”
“Oh,” Aubrey said, slightly startled as she retrieved a pad of paper and pen. “Maybe. What’s your name?”
Again, another silence stretched out. She waited patiently until he said, “Rochester. Edward Rochester.”
Aubrey paused with her pen above her paper. “That’s odd,” she said absently, thinking of the classic novel by Charlotte Brontë.
“I get that a lot.”
Writing his name on the top of the paper, she asked, “How long has the estate sale been up and where is it?” She liked going to estate sales early, but often the families priced their items too high because of the sentimental value. If she didn’t buy things at a bargain, then she wouldn’t be able to resell them at a profit.
“No one’s been here yet,” the man said, his assertive tone making her edgy. He gave her the address for a farm outside of the city, which she dutifully wrote down. An estate sale where no one had picked through the items was a huge score, but something made Aubrey hesitate.
Roman came back to the front counter and set the box of recycling on the edge to regard her with a frown.
She focused on the directions she’d written. “When would you like me to stop by?”
“You can come right now,” the man said, almost before she’d finished asking the question.
Well, she couldn’t do that. The store was open until five, then she had a date at a dojo after that.
Her heart thumped twice as hard at the word “date,” and she briefly made eye contact with Roman. His perceptive gaze made her face heat before she returned her focus to her pad of paper. “How about tomorrow morning? Maybe after nine?” The store was always closed on Sunday, so the timing was perfect.
The man was silent for a moment, then said, “Fine,” in a brusque tone and hung up.
Aubrey stared at the phone. If he had some connection to the person who was deceased, then she could understand him being in a bad mood. Estate sales were always easier on everyone involved when handled by a third party. Most of the people she’d met at estate sales since owning the store didn’t have extra money for that, leaving the family to settle the affairs of the deceased.
The death of a loved one could put a person in a bad spot. Grief affected everyone differently.
The thought brought on memories, and they weren’t good ones. The day she found out Lina and Charles had died, she’d felt like her life had ended. In a way, it had. Nothing had been the same after. Their deaths had felt like another abandonment.
“Are you okay?” Roman asked.
She lifted her head to find him staring at her, his brow furrowed. The phone was still gripped in her hand. Setting it in its cradle, she said, “Yep. Just a guy with an estate sale tomorrow.”
Forcing a smile, she attempted to think of better things and better times, of when Lina and Charles had been alive and she’d felt loved for the first time in her life. Because when she’d been living with them, she had been.
Wrapping her sweater tighter around herself, she returned to her sorting, placing shipping receipts in one folder, her consignment invoices in another. She was aware of Roman watching her, but she ignored him, and after a while he picked up the box of recycling and headed to the back alley.
Aubrey let out a breath. His expression made her think he wanted to ask questions. Only Stella knew the truth of everything that happened in her past, and Aubrey wasn’t in the mood to share. Being evasive right now would only drain her.
The rest of the morning passed by as usual, with Roman doing all the tasks on her list without complaint. After she returned from her lunch break, he left with barely a goodbye. I should have hired him for full days. He had an excellent work ethic, and she enjoyed his mostly silent company. The urge to run after him and remind him about the self-defense class made her feet twitchy, but she didn’t want to appear desperate.
Alone in the store, she stared out the window at the cars driving down the street and the shoppers walking up and down the sidewalk. The transparent surface fogged, and a sad face appeared in it.
It made her heart ache to think both of her best friends didn’t want Roman around, that they couldn’t see what she saw.
“I think he’s sad,” she said into the empty quiet Roman had left behind. “I think he’s sad like us, Finn.”
Turning away from the disappearing image in the window, she clicked on the music player on the computer and filled the store with happy sounds. No more drawings appeared on the windows or countertop for the rest of the day.
Customers came and went throughout the afternoon, and eventually Aubrey’s mood improved. Every time she got a bit sad, she thought about her upcoming date at Method Martial Arts, and that made everything a little better.
Stella’s text came around three o’clock as usual. Are you okay if I spend the night at Lucas’s tonight?
The inexplicable pressure in Aubrey’s chest eased. Most of the time she wasn’t even aware it was building until Stella’s afternoon check-ins arrived.
Of course. Aubrey set down her phone and picked up the flyer for the dojo open house. She’d be more than fine because at six thirty she had a date with the man she’d been ogling for the past four days.
13
When six twenty-five rolled around, Roman turned the last corner to the dojo outside of old downtown. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, promising rain. Aubrey waited on the sidewalk in front of the gym, facing away from him with her arms crossed over her chest.
She’d changed into yoga pants and a gray T-shirt, a messenger bag over her shoulder. Every inch of her outfit clung to her curvy body, and he had a hard time not thinking about what those curves would feel like under his hands.
She’s my target. He had to keep reminding himself. With each minute he spent with her, it was getting impossible to
remember. But he had to.
Instead of figuring out how she was involved in the prophecy, he’d been enjoying the work at the store and sharing her company. An unassuming air followed her wherever she went, relaxing him in a way he’d never experienced. Each morning as he headed to Relics, he looked forward to it. There wasn’t a job he could think of where that had been the case. Work had always been a duty, an obligation. He’d never felt buoyant on his way to a job before.
At the end of his shift today, he’d witnessed a change in her mood after the estate sale phone call. Even though he didn’t understand the haunted look in her eye, he wanted to learn more. He wanted to delve into all her secret fears and desires, and the impulse disturbed him.
She turned toward him as he drew near, her posture relaxing when she saw him. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind,” she said when he stopped beside her. None of her earlier sadness remained in her expression.
“When I make a promise, I keep it.”
Brushing her bangs out of her eyes, she blocked the setting sun with her hand to look up at him. “I wouldn’t call it something as heavy as a promise. People bail on things all the time.” The rays of light made her hair shine red, each strand highlighted.
“It was a promise,” he replied, stepping to the side so the sun didn’t blind her.
“Oh,” she said, dropping her hand but still squinting up at him. “Well, I’m glad you came.”
He nodded, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation her comments created in his chest. The way she looked up at him made him feel like he mattered.
But he didn’t matter. And if she knew why he was hanging around her, why he’d applied for the job at her store, then she’d hate him.
It all came down to the prophecy. That’s it. That’s all he could afford to think about right now.
“Maybe we should go inside?” she said after a minute. “I think it’s almost six thirty.”
Opening the glass door, he waited for her to enter first. They followed arrows on the wall, leading them up a staircase to the second floor. The place smelled like sweat, rubber mats, and some kind of vinegar cleaner that didn’t mask anything. The familiar smells reminded him of the gym the legionnaires sometimes used during basic training years back.
Voices led them through a lounge area with two couches and shoe racks. They added theirs to the dozen or so pairs already there. A handmade sign saying “Welcome” hung on the door.
Inside, the floors and walls of the studio space were covered in mats. About a half dozen adults, the same number of teenagers, and a few kids idled around. One man and two teenagers were dressed in white gis, a badge with the gym’s logo sewn on their chests.
The man straightened when he saw them enter, and a smile split his face when his eyes landed on the woman beside Roman. His black hair was cut close to his scalp, and his gi hung on a body that saw a gym at least twice a day.
“Hey, Aubrey,” he said, walking toward them. “It’s good to see you.”
Roman noticed the way his eyes scanned her tight-fitting clothes with appreciation, and immediately tensed.
“Cole,” she replied, smiling too. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“I don’t just work here, I own the place.” He spread his arms wide with pride. “Well, co-own anyway,” he said, dropping his arms, “but the other guy is a silent partner.”
“That’s great,” she said, stopping when they were only a foot apart. “Owning your own business can be so hard.”
“That’s an understatement,” he said with a laugh. “Stella told me you own an antique store downtown. We should start a small business alliance or something.”
“We should,” she agreed, still smiling.
The man’s eyes finally focused on him. “And you brought a friend.” His eyes scanned him as thoroughly as they did Aubrey.
“This is Roman,” she said without missing a beat, like being called her friend wasn’t some error. When she looked up at him, her smile was still there, like she enjoyed his company. “Roman, this is Cole. He bartends at the pub Stella and I hang out at sometimes, Bitters Tavern.”
Cole stepped forward and extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Glad there’s a big guy here. We always need a volunteer who can take a hit during our demonstrations.”
Roman took his grip, his gloved hand wrapping around Cole’s bare one, but didn’t respond. Yeah, he could take a hit. He could also give one.
“Right, okay,” Cole said, stepping back and gesturing to the table on the right of the door with a stack of papers and a few pens. “We need you two to sign in and the fill out the waiver. Since this is an open house, we don’t want anyone suing us for an accidental bloody nose.” He let out a strained laugh.
“Not a problem,” Aubrey said, moving to the table to pick up a form. Roman did the same, noticing the black belt certificates on the wall beside posters of men and women in the midst of martial arts movements.
“We’ll get started as soon as you’re done,” Cole said, then cocked his head to Roman. “There’s a coat rack next to the men’s locker room. You’ll need less restrictive clothing to really benefit from the class. And you can leave your bag there, Aubrey. No one will bother it.”
As they walked to the coat rack, Aubrey glanced at him nervously. For a second, he thought it was because she didn’t want to leave her bag, then he realized her eyes were on his jacket.
When he took it off to reveal his long-sleeve black T-shirt and no holsters, her eyebrows lifted. “No knives today?” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
“They’re nearby.” He grabbed a hanger off the rack. Not that he was unarmed. He could never do that. But he’d understood what a martial arts class would entail and knew the smaller knife strapped to his calf would have to do for the evening.
When it looked like Aubrey wanted to say more, Cole clapped his hands together, getting everyone’s attention. “Okay, so let’s get started.”
The group formed a loose semicircle around Cole and his two teenaged helpers. Aubrey stayed close to Roman, her shoulder almost pressing against his elbow.
“Self-defense,” Cole began. “Even if thinking about why we need it in our lives isn’t fun, learning about it, the exercise of it, can be. My focus tonight will be on giving you options of what to do if someone were to grab you. Different scenarios need different responses.” He met everyone’s eyes in the room, then said, “Your first defense is your voice. If you are able to scream, do it. Notifying people you are in trouble can save your life.”
Beside him, Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest, her posture tense. Roman became more aware of her than ever. What made her uncomfortable? The class content or something else?
“But what if there’s no one around?” Cole’s voice refocused his attention. “Then you need to rely on keeping yourself calm, remembering the skills you’ve learned. Practice and confidence will help with that. After the open house, my two students here will be handing out pamphlets with the kind of classes we offer. There’s everything from strict karate, to jiu-jitsu, to more mixed classes like this one.
“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands again. “Let’s get warmed up.”
A quick round of jumping jacks and running in circles was followed by a series of stretches. After everyone was breathing hard, Cole got one of his students to stand across from him.
“We’re going to start with some karate-based takedowns and submission. Then we’ll move onto quick strikes, which is a totally different approach.”
“Submission?” Aubrey said, quiet enough Roman was the only one who heard. “I didn’t know it would be that kind of class. I would have brought my whip.”
As Cole went on about how to use body weight to turn an attacker’s wrist, Roman gave Aubrey his full attention, his eyebrow raised.
“That was a joke,” she said, her eyes darting between him and the demonstration. “I don’t have a whip.” She cleared her throat. “Unless you’re into that
sort of thing. I could probably pick something up.”
This time, he turned his entire body toward her, awareness firing through his nerve endings.
She let out a nervous laugh. “Did I say that out loud?” Bright spots of color appeared high on her cheeks, but she didn’t look away.
Roman’s attention was broken when Cole told everyone to break into pairs to try out the first move.
“Aubrey, did you want to pair up with me?” Cole asked her.
She let out another nervous laugh. “Sure.”
When she walked toward him, one of Cole’s students gestured for Roman to pair up with him. While Roman focused on doing the basic maneuver, he kept watch on Aubrey out of the corner of his eye, gauging her comfort levels. She seemed fine as Cole walked her through the steps, first showing her the moves with her as the assailant, then switching positions. Aubrey laughed when she got the move right, and Roman relaxed, focusing his attention on not hurting the student in front of him. It had been a while since he’d held back in a combat situation.
As the exercise went on, Roman couldn’t help think a guy like Cole would be perfect for Aubrey. Someone who was strong and could protect her, but also knew how to laugh and…had a soul.
So why did the thought of them together send a spike through his chest?
It was becoming ridiculous, this puppy dog yearning he felt for Aubrey…for his target. He needed to get his head on straight. But every time he felt like he had his emotions under control, she said something or did something to pull him right back under.
And what was that comment about the whip? When Aubrey’s laugh echoed through the room, a shiver of awareness raced down his spine. Someone needed a spanking, but it wasn’t him.
Shaking his head to clear it, he refocused on the adept teenager in front of him. After a few minutes of the participants mastering those techniques, Cole had everyone watch him as he moved on to something new. Aubrey came back to stand beside Roman, and for some reason he had the urge to haul her up against his side to stake a claim. He blinked, then focused on the instructor.
