Page 23 of My Undead Heart

They know better than to argue, and fly out the back door in a pack of muscle and sweat that dares to be messed with.

“Hey.” I step forward and she does the same until we meet halfway. I hold up my hands, and twist my features with mock worry. “I know better than to call you zombie girl.”

“You learn fast for a jock.” Her smile is weak and she shakes her head. “Sorry. I- I didn’t really think. You’re obviously busy and I can come back.”

“No. It’s fine. You’ve got seven, maybe nine minutes, but that’s only because they’ve been at this for a while.”

“I got the address from your card. I wanted to ... I don’t really know what I wanted.” She shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, and I try not to notice the way her breasts press against the cotton of her shirt. Her eyes dart around the gym and it’s strange because even though we don’t know each other well, she’s different than before. Her assertiveness over the weekend has been replaced with nerves. I wonder at the cause for that, or if it’s what happens when she’s without stage makeup.

“Okay, how about we start with the basics. I’m Matt.”

“I know that.” She almost laughs, her hands going to her hips as she meets my smile with a raised brow.

“This is the part where you tell me your name, I say nice to meet you, and then we get down to why exactly you’re in my gym tonight.”

“Never mind. I knew I shouldn’t have come.” She turns on one heel but I reach out and hold her arm to stop her. Her eyes widen as they follow to where I barely grazed the fabric of her sleeve and travel all the way up my arm, shoulder, and neck. But as our stares meet, her mouth falls open on an exhale and she takes one big step backward. “Mia.” She shoves her hand between us and I capture it inside mine for a handshake.

“Nice to see you again. I never thought I would, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“About that ...”

“You’d like to go out sometime? Cool. Me, too. How’s Sunday afternoon?”

She laughs, a genuine burst of joy, and I like the way it sounds. “Um, no.”

“Burn.” I cringe and run my fingers through my wild hair. I like to leave it long, but usually pull it back after a few hours in the gym. “Be gentle with me, Mia.”

“I have a feeling you’re tough. Again, I’m sorry I interrupted your class. Very impressive, by the way.” She nods behind me.

“Thank you. Is that all you came here for? To turn me down and scope out the gym, because it seems there was more.”

“Oh, yeah, um.” She chews at the inside of her cheek. “After everything that went down at the bar, it got me thinking. Do you really offer self-defense classes here? Or maybe have some place you’d recommend? From your website it seemed you did, but this seems more like professional fighting.”

My mouth pulls wide with my grin and she places her hands back on her hips.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I’m happy you stalked my website.”

“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “So glad I could add to your weekly page hits. Don’t flatter yourself, either. I design for a living and your website needs a serious tune-up. It’s not nearly as notable as this.” Delivering both an insult and a compliment doesn’t deter my smile. If anything, it grows wider because I can tell it pisses her off.

“These are my advanced fighters, but you’re right. I do more than that. Fitness classes, all kinds of martial arts for any age and level. Self-defense, too. When do you want to try it out?”

“When’s your next class?”

“Tomorrow at noon.”

“Oh, well, I work—”

“When are you free? I can train you one-on-one.” I get the words out and then fight the need to adjust myself.Yes, my dick tries to weigh in on the decision. The thought of pinning her down on one of the mats while she moves against me is completely unprofessional and yet extremely tantalizing.

She waves a hand, dismissing my offer. “Oh, I can’t ask you to do that. It’s not really in my budget either. I’ll just watch a YouTube video or something.”

“No. Let me teach you. We can work something out.”

“Really, it’s not your problem.”

“Mia.” God, I love how her name tastes on my lips. “I want to do this for you.”