Page 6 of A Kickin' Karate Christmas
I forced myself to watch my daughter instead. I took note of the way her little face scrunched as she tried to remember the kata she and her friend had worked so hard on and fought back a laugh after she stomped one of her feet when she forgot what came next in the sequence. I’d seen that look of frustration more times than I could count, and I knew she’d work through it. Either that, or it’d motivate her to work harder, to spend the time I talked to Mateo after her class going through it over and over again until she perfected every move.
I watched as Mateo noticed too, saw the way he worked with her to guide her through each move. I couldn’t hear anything that he said to her, but I watched the way her face lit up when she finally got the progression right.
If I’d thought Mateo was attractive before, it didn’t compare to how I was looking at him right now.
This was going to be a problem.
I busied myself with my phone, reading a few work emails while class finished. When the class ended, I sent Emerson into the smaller dojo and met Mateo at his desk.
“Alright, let me see what you’ve got,” he requested as he settled into his seat.
I pulled my laptop out of its bag and opened it on his desk, angling it between us where we could both see the screen. I watched as Mateo positioned himself better to view it before he groaned. “Okay, this angle isn’t working for me. Bring the chair over here?”
I picked up the chair I was sitting in and rounded the desk. It was cramped quarters, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. Every time I inhaled, the air was flavored with the smell of his sweat. I fought the urge to lean closer to him before remembering that it would be a disaster. I put my focus on the website, showing him everything I’d worked on Saturday night. I walked him through the changes that I’d made, even though he could see them. It was habit at this point, a step in the process my brain refused to skip.
“The pictures are great,” he commented as we went through the site. I’d chosen a different one for each individual page, with a rotating carousel of images on the home page. I smiled at the compliment.
“Thanks. I thought they might show off a bit of the culture of the dojo. I know as a parent, that’s something I want to see.” I navigated to the page where I’d left spaces for each of the senseis’ biographies. “I think some information about the staff might help, too. I took a chance on you without knowing your credentials until I got here, but some parents might not be willing to do that.”
“What made you take the chance?”
“Good reviews online,” I told him bluntly. “If we could get some testimonials on the site, it might help people who are looking for reviews. Cut out the step of looking elsewhere.” I watched him as he looked over the website again. I navigated to the page I’d designed for testimonials and leaned back in my seat. “Not everyone is going to go as in depth as I did. They’re going to choose the site that gives them all the information in one go. You want to make the site easy to navigate, visually appealing, and informative without overwhelming potential clients.”
“I’m guessing overwhelming them is bad?”
“That’s really bad. It’s a delicate balance.”
“And this site has it?”
“I think so.” He didn’t look impressed with the modest answer, and I didn’t blame him. He was the kind of man that radiated confidence, and I needed to do the same to earn his trust in this project. I took a deep breath. “The upgraded site has more information, and it’s laid out in a more cohesive sense. The contact page is fixed at the bottom, but it’s also programmed to include what page they sent the contact from.”
“And that’s good?”
“It will tell you when they decided to make the jump so you can focus on that. For instance, if someone sends you a message from the Schedule page, you can emphasize the flexible class options. If they reach out from the About Us page, then you can talk to them about the combined experience of your staff.” He looked overwhelmed. “I’ll write you some simple starters. Then all you have to do is fill in the middle part where you answer their questions.”
He nodded. “That sounds easy enough.” He reached over me to thumb at the track pad. I watched as his long, slender fingers moved around and began to navigate the website on his own. Hedidn’t say anything as he clicked through each of the pages one more time. “I like it,” he declared with a small smile. “I’ll get you the bios for me and Sophia and ask if anyone’s willing to give us some testimonials.”
“Perfect. Once we have that, I can plug it all in and make the switch.”
“How long will that take?”
“Well, it’s already on your host. I just turn those pages live and turn off the other pages.”
“So, it’s just a push of a button?” Mateo asked, one eyebrow cocked. How did he look more handsome that way?
“Whenever you’re ready.” I thought better of my words for a moment. “And whenever we have the missing parts.”
Mateo’s laughter filled the small lobby of the dojo. He had a warm laugh, and I felt it in my bones. I didn’t think I’d ever noticed how warm his laugh was in the past. I’d never paid a lot of attention to it, but then, he didn’t laugh a lot with the children. He had to be the teacher, the serious adult presence in the room.
“Besides the website, have you thought of any other ideas?” Mateo questioned.
“Not as many as I’d like,” I admitted. I felt like I was letting him down. With my other clients, I was a fast thinker. I came up with ideas quickly, and I always had things to present by the first meeting. Of course, most of those weren’t for events. They weren’t for something tangible, like saving a local business so my daughter had a place to continue doing karate. It was a horse of a different color. It didn’t mean I wanted to let him down, or that I felt any differently than I would if he’d been a paying client that I was saying those words to.
Mateo nodded. “What do you have?”
I pulled up the document on my computer where I’d been drafting ideas. There’d been a few from the parenting board, and there were a few that I’d come up with on my own. Mateo readover my shoulder, and I wished I was a mind reader. I wanted to know what thoughts were going on behind his deep brown eyes. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t letting him down by not having more already.
“Tell me more about this one,” he requested, pointing to one I’d labeled asBuddy Night.
