Acid roiled in his gut, and he took another couple of seconds to cool off before squatting in front of her.
“Annie—”
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” she murmured. Raising her eyes to meet his, she shook her head. “He’s my problem, and I have to learn to deal with him.”
He frowned. “Annie, he had no right—”
“That doesn’t matter! Right and wrong isn’t the point.” Annie hiked her chin up a notch and firmed her jaw in a display of moxie that sparked hope in him.
He held his tongue, giving her the chance to speak her mind. Her body language as she gathered herself and recovered from Hardin’s intimidation spoke volumes to him. She was strong. A fighter. She had the mettle to overcome her past. Warmth swirled through his blood as he held her rich-coffee gaze.
Annie swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “This was my problem, not yours. I have to learn how to handle these situations for myself, if I’m going to—” She tore her eyes away and shook her head again. “Never mind.”
When she pushed up from the floor, Jonah put a hand under her arm to help her to her feet. She shrugged out of his grip. “I’m all right. I don’t need—”
“Okay.” He held his hands up and backed away one step.
Stroking her hands down her uniform apron, she angled a dubious look toward him. “Why have you decided to be my protector? You barely know me.”
He shrugged. “How well do you have to know someone to want to help them?”
She ducked her head and didn’t answer.
Jamming his hands into his pockets, he cocked his head and studied her bruised cheek and swollen lip, evidence of last night’s attack. Even with the injuries marring her ivory skin, her beauty shone through. Annie was a curious blend of childlike fragility and womanly allure. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose that lent to her young, waifish appearance, while her bowed lips and thick-lashed brown eyes contributed to the seductive movie-star quality her hairstyle evoked.
He cracked his knuckles, working off the remnants of adrenaline following his confrontation with Hardin. “Look, are you all right?”
A pointed, dark brown gaze snapped up to his, half hidden by the curtain of hair she kept over her left cheek. “I’m fine. I appreciate your help, but—”
“But nothing. Forget it.” He waved a hand in dismissal and pivoted on his heel. He’d made it as far as the swinging door before he reconsidered. “No, don’t forget it.” He marched back to Annie and drilled her with a hard gaze. “You want to learn to take care of yourself? To handle men like Hardin and that guy in the alley last night?”
Annie blinked her surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you had to learn how to handle situations like this, guys like Hardin.” He flicked a thumb toward the spot where Hardin had stood earlier. “Did you mean it?”
A deer-in-the-headlights look froze her face.
“I can teach you to handle yourself when a man attacks you. I can show you how to defend yourself, protect yourself.”
She eyed him skeptically for several silent moments. “What about my children?”
“Kids?” Jonah fumbled, caught off guard by her question. “I…I guess I could teach them, too.”
“No, they’re too young. I mean, can you teach me to protect them from men like…” She paused, bit her lip, then lowered her voice. “Men like Hardin?”
Jonah held her gaze, moved by the depth of fear, the passion and motherly concern he saw reflected in her dark eyes. A degree of desperation shadowed her expression and tugged at dusty memories deep inside him.
“I can…if you’re willing to trust me.”
His answer seemed to douse her interest with a cold slap of reality. She frowned and jerked her gaze away with a sigh. Trust was clearly in short supply for Annie. Not surprising.
Jonah twisted his mouth to the side as he thought. “May I have your order pad and pen?”
With a puzzled look, she took the items from the front pocket of her apron and extended them to him.
“What time do you get off work tonight?” He scribbled an address on the pad and clicked the pen closed.
Again she hesitated before answering, her gaze narrowed on him as if she could detect his motives, any ill-intent or hidden agenda if she studied him close enough. “Eight. Why?”
“That’s my gym.” He tapped the front of the pad. “I’ll meet you there at eight thirty and give you a few pointers on self-defense, if you want. There are plenty of things a woman can do to protect herself, even from a man twice her size. I’ll show you a couple of the most effective ones tonight.”
He handed her back the pen and pad, and she perused the note he’d made. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth again and wound a strand of hair around her finger. “I don’t know. I…I’d have to call my babysitter and make sure she could stay late. And I hate to miss the kids’ bedtime. I see so little of them as it is.” Her shoulders slumped a bit, and he heard working-mother guilt rife in her tone.
Seizing the opportunity to learn more about her and make her feel more at ease with him, Jonah grinned. “How old are they?”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“Your kids. How old are they?”
Her expression softened, and warmth flooded her eyes. “Haley is five and a half, and my baby, Ben, is almost two.”
Her obvious affection for her children needled a vulnerable place in Jonah, an emptiness he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on. The idea of having his own family stirred a complicated mix of emotions in him. He longed for the domestic ideal of home and hearth, but his memories of family left him in a cold sweat. Norman Rockwell dreams of a picket fence and two-point-five kids were a fantasy for him. Out of reach. Too risky.
His broken family, his only experience with home life, was a recipe for disaster.
Clearing his throat and shoving aside his own bitter memories, he flashed her another smile. “A boy and a girl. That’s great. You have a matched set.”
A corner of her mouth quirked up. “Hardly matched. They’re as opposite as can be.”
Jonah chuckled. “Funny how that happens, huh?”
Her mouth curved a bit more, forming the first hint of a grin he’d seen on her lips in weeks. “Yeah. Funny.”
“I’d love to meet them someday.”
Her smile vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by the damnable wariness again. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I like you. And I like kids. Stands to reason I’d like your kids.”
Her
