“What is a manicure called if it’s on your toes?”
“A . . . toe-icure? A foot-icure?”
She giggles as I help her into the gloves. “No. ‘Ped’ is Latin for foot. So it’s pedicure.”
“Thanks for that bit of trivia I’ll never need.”
“Could be a Jeopardy question one day,” she teases. “Better bank that information.”
“It’s right here,” I say, tapping my temple. “Now let’s teach you something you can actually use. Let me see your jab.”
She sticks her left arm out.
“No, you’re right-handed. You’ll jab with your right, not your left.”
She repeats the same movement with her other hand.
“Whatever you think you know from doing those aerobic videos, forget it. Forget it all,” I tell her, shaking my head. “It’s like this.”
I demonstrate a few jabs on the bag, popping the leather with my fist over and over. I follow it with a cross a time or two, just so she can see it in order. When I stop and look at her, she’s watching me with a smile. “Did you get that?” I ask.
“I got that you look hot as hell doing it.”
I look at the ceiling. “Did you see the mechanics of the punch?”
“I saw the way your back ripples,” she says, moseying my way. “And the way your legs flex and—”
“So you got nothing.”
“I got nothing.” She stands on her tiptoes and I bend so she can kiss me. “Can I see it again? One more time. I’ll try to watch your arms this time.”
We spend over an hour throwing punches, stealing kisses, and learning how to turn your hips over for a roundhouse kick. By the time we’re done, we’re lying on the mats catching our breath.
She turns her head and faces me. “This was fun.”
“Really? You liked it?”
“The boxing was fun. It’s a good workout.”
I nod in agreement.
“But I really liked being here with you. In your space, you know?”
Rolling onto my side, I move my hand so I’m touching her. “I’m trying to figure out how I can show you I want you to be a part of my life but do it in a way where I don’t worry about you.”
“This place is harmless, Dom.”
“Right now,” I agree. “But when it’s open, there are people in here that aren’t savory. Take Gary, the guy from some place in Texas that no one can find on a map. The guy is flat-out weird, Cam. Serial killer material.”
“Oh, he is not.”
“He is too! Weird as fuck. Then there’s Noah, the kid that snorts more shit up his nose than I care to know. And Bond, the asshole I only tolerate because he’s a good sparring partner.” I play with a lock of her hair, twirling it around my finger. “I don’t want to risk you to any of them. I won’t. I just have to figure out safe ways to incorporate you into this. Okay?”
“Okay.” She leans forward and presses a sweet, sweaty kiss to my lips. “Now, since you’re all give-y today, I have a question. A request.”
My stomach churns at the look in her eye. “What?”
“Will you go to the charity event with me this week that I’ve been planning?”