The scars on her neck pissed him off. John was one of those guys who didn't have to know a woman to get pissed as hell on her behalf when someone went after them. He wasn't the type of person anyone would call a pro-feminist. He didn't rage for women's rights or anything. But he hated seeing women hurt. A lot.
"That," he told her, "I can definitely help out with." He showed her into the cleared-out living room and urged her toward the middle of the room where he had laid out gymnastics mats. After lessons with Cole, he had decided to invest in them. There were only so many times you could fall without actually getting banged up, even if you knew how to do it. "I can show you how to throw a person coming at you from behind and from the front. You mind if I get behind you to demonstrate?"