“Bad dreams. I’m sure you know about that.”
Hating the haunted look in his dark eyes, I lowered my gaze. “Yeah, everyone has bad dreams.”
Saint sighed painfully. “The past refuses to be forgotten. The more you try, the more it claws to the surface.”
“I guess.”
“You can only face the past and stare it in the eye. Take away its power by refusing to blink.”
“Does that really work?” I asked, hating to see him look so worn down.
Saint downed the giant sized coffee then gave me a wink. “Most days.”
“What do you do for the days it doesn’t work?”
Finishing his second cinnamon roll, he wiped his mouth then stood up. “Distract myself with training. When that doesn’t work, I lie to myself. Much like you probably do in your therapy sessions.”
“What makes you think I go to therapy?” I asked, shoving my uneaten roll in my bag for Jace to eat later.
Saint almost laughed at my question, yet controlled himself. “Sorry, but you have therapy kid written all over you.”
“I’m not a kid,” I grumbled, following him out of the shop.
“True, but you’re less tempting when I think of you as a child.”
Pausing at the passenger door, I frowned as he climbed into the SUV. Saint ignored my expression and started the car. Before he drove off without me, I climbed into the SUV and dared to ask my question.
“Tempting how?”
Saint gave me a little grin. “Are you so vain that you need me to spell it out?”
“Yes, please.”
Shaking his head, he made a U-turn and passed Judd and Vaughn on their Harleys. “I don’t want you thinking about how pretty you are. Better for you to focus on learning everything you can from me while I’m in town.”
“What will I learn? I mean, I’m not your size and I can’t do what you do.”
“Typical thinking. There’s more to being a badass than size. Most of it is mental. You fight at the Thunderdome, right? You ever beat a woman bigger than you?”
When I nodded, Saint continued, “Size is the one thing you can’t fix. You’re a woman. Not a petite woman, but you won’t intimidate anyone unless you go buff like those girls in the muscle mags. Assuming you don’t want to go that route, your only real way to fight off a guy my size is with a weapon. Knife, stun gun, pistol. Guns are the best gender equalizers. My mom carries a .45 in her flowered purse, next to her makeup and perfume.”
Smiling slightly at the mention of his mother, I asked, “If your advice is for me to get a gun, why do I need training?”
Saint parked the SUV on the side of the road where my Harley sat the day before. He turned off the engine and climbed out, forcing me again to keep up.
“Your weakness is mental,” he said, opening the trunk and retrieving a backpack he strapped on. “If you had a gun yesterday, would I be dead now simply because you got spooked?”
I stopped in my tracks and stared at the back of Saint as he stretched. He glanced at me over his shoulder then sighed.
“Give you a gun and someone will die. Who knows if that person will even deserve to die?”
“You make me sound crazy.”
“Trigger happy isn’t the same as crazy,” he explained while squatting down then leaning on one leg. “You should stretch before we run.”
Setting down my backpack, I followed his example. Saint looked sexy flexing his muscles and I hated how I noticed this fact. My lust wasn’t really my fault. He was a gorgeous man. Other women noticed too, making my lingering gaze on his hard ass okay. I was a woman after all.
Saint’s tanned skin looked soft and I ached to touch it. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I focused on how he thought I was unstable and weak. No way was that sexy. My anger insisted Saint wasn’t sexy. I refused to admit anything was ever sexy, even if he was bent over with his ass facing me. When did I start lusting over guys’ asses?
Suddenly staring at me, Saint wore a dark gaze too intense for me not to look away. I had no idea what caused his expression, yet sighed in relief when it disappeared and he gestured for me to follow him.
Jogging steadily, we followed the paths into the woods. I kept up well, but suspected Saint paced himself for my benefit. A little part of me wanted him to let loose, so I could witness him in all of his glory. He held back though and I was able to keep up all the way to the river where he slowed down.
Saint walked along the riverbank, kicking over large rocks. Reminding me of Jace, he was like a boy looking for frogs and worms. His expression shifted when a branch snapped nearby. The look on his face was fierce, terrifying really. I stared at him, struggling with my lust. Alert killer was an amazing look on him.
Once Saint was certain the noise came from animals, rather than a threat, he looked at me. “You have weaknesses most women don’t,” he said casually.
“How do you figure?”