Page 6 of Hero Daddy

Iclutchedmypursetomy chest as Chad's truck rolled to a stop outside my apartment building. My fingers still trembled – leftover adrenaline from earlier, I told myself, not the effect of sitting next to him in the close confines of his vehicle. The heater had been blasting the whole ride, but goosebumps still prickled along my arms every time he shifted gears and his knuckles brushed against my knee.

"This is me," I said, pointing unnecessarily at the three-story brick building.

Chad nodded, steering into a parking spot with military precision. He killed the engine, and the sudden silence felt heavy between us.

"I'll walk you up."

He didn't wait for my response, just got out and came around to my side. I took his offered hand before I could think better of it. His palm was warm and calloused, engulfing mine completely.

At my door, I fumbled with my keys, dropping them once before managing to get them into the lock. The jangle seemed obscenely loud in the quiet hallway.

"Sorry," I muttered, not sure what I was apologizing for.

"Take your time," Chad said, his voice lower than before. It did something to my insides, that voice. Made them twist and heat in ways I wasn't prepared for.

The lock clicked, and I pushed the door open a few inches.

"You'll be okay now?" he asked instead, eyes scanning the visible slice of my apartment before returning to my face.

"Yes. Thank you. For everything." The words came out breathier than I intended. "Would you like to come in for a drink? Coffee or something?"

A muscle in his jaw tightened. For a second, I thought I saw something flash in his eyes—interest, maybe—but then it was gone, replaced by that steady, assessing gaze.

"Another time, maybe," he said.

I nodded, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Then his hand moved to the pocket of his jacket, and I froze, irrationally imagining a gun or badge. Instead, he pulled out a small rectangle of cardstock.

"Here," he said, holding it out to me.

I took it, fingers brushing his again. The card was heavy, cream-colored with crisp black lettering. "Wake's Jujitsu Academy," it read, with an address about fifteen minutes from my salon. On the back, someone had written a phone number in precise, angular handwriting.

"That's my personal cell," Chad said, nodding at the handwritten digits. "Academy number's on the front, but you can reach me directly on that one."

I stared at the card, confused. "I don't understand."

Chad shifted his weight, the first sign of anything less than perfect composure I'd seen from him.

"Self-defense," he said, his deep voice dropping even lower. "It's not just about fighting back. It's about carrying yourself differently. Recognizing danger before it gets close." He paused, eyes holding mine. "Building confidence."

"I'm not exactly athletic," I said, the words automatic. My hand went to my hip, a gesture I wasn't even aware of until I caught him tracking the movement.

"It's not about that," he said firmly. "Athleticism doesn't matter in jujitsu. Technique does. Leverage. Awareness." Another pause. "Mind over matter."

The way he said it made me believe him, just a little. Like he wasn't feeding me a line, but stating a fact as obvious as gravity.

"I can help you," he continued. "Teach you to protect yourself. Private lessons, if you prefer, until you're comfortable with a group setting."

His eyes never left mine as he spoke, and something in them made my stomach flip. There was no pity there, no condescension. Just a steady, unwavering focus that made me feel like I was the only person in the world.

"I don't know," I said, fingers tightening around the card. "I'm not sure I'd be any good at—"

"Everyone starts somewhere," he cut in. "I've taught grandmothers and teenagers. Corporate executives and stay-at-home moms."

"I don't know if I'm brave enough," I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty.

Chad's gaze intensified, his eyes boring into mine with an almost physical force. "Brave isn't something you are, Daliah. It's something you practice."

My name in his mouth felt intimate, like a touch.

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