Page 25 of Forced Proximity

And I crack. ‘Justin! That is not what I meant.’ A burst of laughter escapes.

He tips over laughing, too, and presses his palm into the corner of his eyes. ‘Shit, I needed that laugh.’

‘God, me too.’ I hop off the floor, put on my shoes and re-holster my gun. In the mirror, I catch a glimpse of my reflection and my smile immediately drops. When was the last time I laughed? The Incident and my divorce stripped away so many things. Laughter was the first.

He digs into the mini fridge and hands me a bottle of water. ‘Where did you learn to fight like that?’

‘My dad.’ I take a sip. ‘I was such a hyperactive kid that I think he taught me to fight just to burn off some energy. That, and give my mom a break.’

He twists off his cap. ‘And your brothers, too?’

‘Yeah, for sure. My dad taught twice a week at a local studio, and I’d go with him. And when we were in the field picking peas or strawberries, sometimes he’d just throw his hoe down and say, “Fists up. Block your face. Strong arms. Go!” That was his mantra.’

Justin bends to lace up his shoes. ‘It’s a good mantra.’

‘He’d always tell me if I landed a punch, I could have candy. I tried for years, but he blocked every shot.’ I remember my frustration that he always knew when I was trying to land a shot. ‘But one day, when I was around thirteen or so, I got one in. You should’ve seen me. I ran around the yard pounding my fists in the air like Rocky.’

‘Da nah nah nah … da nah nah nah nah …’ Justin sings out.

‘Oh my God! Rocky theme song. Seriously. That was me.’ The smile returns. My dad spent so much time teaching me to fight and properly channel my energy. He used to say doing these maneuvers gave me “character” and was “good for my soul”, but I know deep down he was terrified that one day I’d be alone in the world, and he wouldn’t be able to protect me.

God, I love my dad. Brought me in as a baby when my birth mother couldn’t care for me and kept protecting me until the day I left the house.

Justin holds open the door for me, and we walk up the stairs. ‘You’re pretty fierce, you know that?’

‘Thanks. I take martial arts seriously. Everyone should know how to defend themselves,’ I say as we reach the top. ‘Even big, tough, super burly ex-Division One football-player-turned-Hollywood-action-star type of guys.’

He freezes. ‘Wait, did you just tease me? Did the serious-as-hell Doc just give me some shit?’

‘Contrary to what you may think,’ I say, matching his grin, ‘I am human.’

Damn, he has a great smile. The faintest lines travel from his sharp hazel eyes to his warmed cheeks, and the dimples … I mean, come on. Sometimes it’s like he’s not human. He’s the physical manifestation of what someone would type into an AI generated app using words like Gorgeous Male in his Thirties. He’s almost laughably good-looking. Maybe this job won’t suck. He can take a joke, spar, and is clearly easy to talk to since I can’t shut up about my childhood.

In the kitchen, Justin grabs two protein bars and tosses me one. ‘I want to learn more moves some time, if you’ll teach me?’ He rips open the package with his teeth. ‘And it doesn’t have to include hands on unsavory parts next time either.’

I chuckle. ‘I swear I didn’t know how dirty it sounded until I said it.’

Did he just give me a look at the word ‘dirty’? Yep. This right here, is a look. A curled lip with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. No. Nope, nope, nope. Seriously, enough. I check my watch. Time to eat more than a protein bar. ‘Be right back.’

In the den, I stick my finger on the monitor to check my blood sugar level. Almost weekly, I debate with myself to move to automated monitoring, but having a sensor attached to my body when it could get ripped off during an altercation is not good.

‘Hey, want some lemonade?’ he calls from the kitchen. ‘I made some fresh this morning.’

‘Sure. Be there in a sec.’ I grab the syringe from my bag and dig for the insulin and alcohol wipes.

‘Sorry, did you say yes?’

I whip around, cup the needle and shove it behind my back. How in the hell did I not hear him approach? My lips tweak into a thin, side-smile. Heat flushes my face, and I’m hyperaware of my body’s weird-ass, unnatural position.

Shit. The look he’s giving me makes me shrink. I swallow, take a step back and pray he walks away.

He doesn’t.

Chapter 11

Lexi

I stand frozen in Justin’s den with my syringe cupped in my hand behind my back. My gut twists, tight and gross. Why did he have to come in here right as I’m about to take my insulin? I exhale, trying to look casual, but know that I’m anything but.