Page 7 of A Kickin' Karate Christmas
It was an idea I’d found online from a dojo in another state. It seemed like a good one, even if it didn’t play out the same way I was imagining in my mind. “One of the best ways to get more money is to get more students, right?” I asked. He nodded in confirmation. “Then to do that, we need to get more people in the door.Buddy Nightis a way to do it. You invite the students to bring a friend. They get a free class, and hopefully, their parents like the free class and sign them up.”
Mateo grinned a wild grin. “That’s a great idea. It doesn’t cost much, except maybe having a second teacher per class. Which I want to do eventually anyway if the classes get a bit bigger.” I could see the wheels turning as he thought the idea over in his head. “Maybe we should do more than one night?”
“I mean more nights just mean more people… or more chances of people, at least,” I agreed. I highlighted the idea and turned it green. That was one of the most promising ideas on my list.
Mateo’s phone chimed. I watched as he looked down at the screen. “Shit,” he muttered.
“Everything okay?” Alarm bells rang in my head.
Mateo pushed his chair back away from the desk. “Yeah, Sophia just texted. Her car broke down, and she needs a ride. You okay if we cut this meeting short?”
“Yeah. We can pick up after Emerson’s next class. Go help your friend.” The words came easily, and while I did feel slightly disappointed, I knew it was the right thing.
Mateo hesitated. “I can’t after her next class. I’ve got plans.” He shifted in his seat. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that hewas nervous. I’d never seen Mateo nervous before. Maybe he wasn’t and I was just reading too much into it. Maybe he was just antsy and wanted to get to Sophia.
“We can figure it out later.” I stood up and started toward the small dojo where Emerson was still diligently practicing, watching herself in the mirror as she went through the routine Mateo had taught her, her lips moving as she muttered to herself.
I was about to call for her when Mateo’s voice sounded from behind me. “Maybe we could get together some other day this week? I could…” I heard him pull in a deep breath. “I could come over to your place?”
“Sounds great.”
I ignored the niggling feeling in my gut that said this could be a bad idea. It was already becoming hard not to think about my daughter’s sensei in inappropriate ways. Should I really be risking hanging out with him at my home?
But then, could I risk not doing it if it meant saving the dojo?
Chapter four
Mateo
Thiswasabadidea.
The thought ran through my head like the refrain of a catchy song as I drove across King’s Bay to the address Jake had given me. The residential street he lived on was quiet, so different than my apartment building at nine at night. There was always music playing from my neighbor’s apartment, laughter coming through the thin walls as he entertained a friend or whatever he did over there. Jake’s street didn’t look like it suffered from thin walls. The houses were nice. They reminded me a little of my childhood home with their manicured lawns and perfectly trimmed gardens.
One of the houses I passed had a literal picket fence.
This was a bad idea.
His neighborhood was filled with people who had their lives together.Hehad his life together. He had a daughter. A daughter who was one of my students. For all I knew, I was going to show up, and he was going to have a long-term partner answerthe door that I’d never heard of. It wasn’t a bad idea because of where I was going or who I knew lived there. It was a bad idea because I was having a hard time not thinking about Jake Porter.
That should have been reason enough to cancel.
Instead, I pulled into his driveway. His house was cute: a single-story brick ranch with shutters and a small porch with white columns. There was a privacy fence surrounding his backyard. There were only a few lights on, and he’d told me to text when I got there instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell. I assumed that was because Emerson was in bed.
I sent the text message from the porch, and a few moments later, he opened the door.
There was something about seeing him in the ambient lighting of his own house, dressed comfortably with his sandy brown curls ruffled, that made my heart flutter. He motioned for me to come in and stepped aside to let me pass. I waited as he closed and locked the front door behind me and followed him into the living room.
My eyes moved around the room. An off-white sectional with a small table took up most of the space. His laptop was already open on the table, and the television mounted on the wall was paused on an episode of a sitcom I loved. Signs of Emerson were all around the room. A pink and black polka-dotted backpack and a small pair of shoes were sitting in the corner, the light blue jacket I saw at least twice a week draped over them. There were framed pictures of her on the wall, charting her growth. Next to his laptop was a notebook and a fluffy pink pen that I could only assume belonged to his daughter and not to him.
There were other things too: little signs of life and clutter that made the space look lived in and comfortable.
“You gonna have a seat?” Jake asked, looking at me from where he sat in one corner of the couch.
I chuckled nervously and took a seat next to him, making sure to leave some room between us. I didn’t need to be too close. It would only fuel the very wrong thoughts I’d been having about the older man. I wiped my hands on my jeans and waited for him to speak. An awkward silence hummed in the air around us. I drew in a deep breath and heard him do the same. “Okay, so…”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t know why this is weird.”
I had a few ideas, but they were solely on my side. I didn’t dare to think that any of it was mutual. He had never once given off the impression that those thoughts were reciprocated. “Maybe we should just… I don’t know, get started?”
