Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“I don’t think this is the right solution,” I mutter as I turn to face her. I hate the look of sympathy in her eyes.
“You wanted to do this.”
“You wanted me to do this,” I clarify. “I simply mentioned taking a self-defense class.”
I roll my eyes as I pick up the sponge and the bottle of cleaner I was using and carry them back to the kitchen.
“This is a self-defense class,” she argues. “Wouldn’t you rather shoot than have to grapple with some guy three times your size?”
I spin around and glare at her.
Her hands go up beside her ears. “That wasn’t a jab at how small you are, but physics is a real thing, Hayden. Even a skilled hundred-pound fighter would have trouble wrestling with a two-hundred-pound man. Is that what you’re wearing?”
I look down at the blouse and slacks I’m still wearing from work.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, let’s go. If you do well in class, I’ll take you for dinner after.”
Knowing I won’t be able to get out of it, I grumble as I grab my purse. Parker doesn’t complain once as I spend the next minute locking the two deadbolts on my front door, and she only groans once when I realize I didn’t leave the front porch light on, and I have to unlock it again to turn it on.
“This is going to be a lot of fun,” Parker says with a wide grin as we drive to the gun range. “I showed you the pictures online, right?”
“More than once,” I mutter as I watch the city rush by through the passenger window.
“These guys are so hot. The guy teaching the class has a beard and tattoos. He’s so sexy.”
I would feel like she’s more interested in flirting during class than supporting me, but I know that she’s worried about me. I haven’t taken the burglary well at all.
“Just type in hashtag Blackbridge Special on your phone and you can see for yourself,” she urges.
I oblige her because it’s easier than arguing. I turn the phone to face her. “This guy?”
“Hot, right?”
“This guy is your type, not mine.”
“That would mean something if you had a type.”
I ignore the jab.
“Look at the other guys. All of their pictures are on their website, but I’m calling dibs on the instructor.”
“Dibs?” I mutter as I swipe through the images on the phone. I’d never tell her, but all the guys are good looking in their own way. The images are like a damned photo gallery for hot models rather than a security firm. It makes me wonder if clients let them slide with half-assed work just because they’re handsome. “Dibs is for kids fighting over a game system controller, not for claiming a man you’ve never met before.”
“Are you saying you want dibs on the instructor?”
I look up at her. “What? No. I’m not interested in any of them.”
Plus, the guy showcased on the website as tonight’s instructor is massive. Yeah, he’s got sexy tattoos and a glorious beard, but he also looks to be more than twice my size. He looks dangerous and angry, and that doesn’t appeal to me one bit.
Parker is wrong about not having a type. I do have a type, sort of. Although my dating life has been limited, more so in the last couple of years, I’ve always ended up in relationships with clean-cut professionals. Other than the short-lived crush I had on David Beckham years ago, rugged, tattooed men never really turned my head. This guy, Quinten Lake, looks like someone I would run from, not flirt with.
“Do you have everything you need?” Parker asks, making me realize I was staring at his picture on my phone for longer than I’d like to admit.
“Need? What the hell do I need? You set this up, not me.”
“Just your driver’s license. Calm down. This is supposed to be empowering, not a punishment.”
I take a deep breath as I climb out of her car. Nerves make my fingers tremble as I wait for her at the front of the car. Maybe the graphic designer on the website photoshopped him to look meaner than he actually is. I mean, wouldn’t it draw in more customers if the guy teaching the class looked like a serious badass?
The guy at the front counter of the business looks nothing like the man on the website, I observe as Parker signs us in.
“Just through there, ladies,” the clerk says, pointing to a door off to the side.
Several pairs of expectant eyes look up at us when we enter, and with the way they handled the marketing on their website, I’m not surprised to find nothing but women in the room. The surly guy is missing as we take our seats and wait for the class to start.
I’m calming down, feeling a little more comfortable that we’re in a classroom setting rather than in a concrete room with guns lying all around.