by Rose, Ranae
An entirely new set of butterflies took up residence in her stomach as she waited for him to emerge from the locker room. She still couldn’t think of him as a stranger. There was what he’d done for Melissa, and the fact that Ally felt more comfortable in his presence than she ever had with another date. Still, the revelation his tattoo had imparted reminded her of how much she had to learn about him.
And truth be told, she felt bad for not asking the right questions on their first date. Obviously, his time in the USMC was important to him – he wouldn’t have devoted his entire back to a work of art showcasing the fact that he’d served if it wasn’t.
Her mood was buoyed by the fact that the night was still young. Relatively, anyway, and she and Ryan still had an entire second date to enjoy. This time, she’d try not to get so lost in the delicious sight, sound and feel of him that she overlooked an equally important part of him – his past.
Eventually Ryan emerged from the locker room, his hair damp with water instead of sweat and his shorts replaced with jeans and a leather jacket.
While he’d been showering and changing, Cameron had written him a check. He pressed it into Ryan’s hand when he emerged. “You’ll be coming back to claim another check next Friday, right?” Cameron’s grin was still a mile wide.
Ryan nodded. “See you tomorrow – I’ll be here for Ally’s fights.” With that, he slid an arm around Ally’s shoulders, walking with her close to his side as if no time at all had passed between their date the night before and now.
Cameron made a remark that sounded generally surprised, but Ally didn’t hear his exact words. She gladly let the noise of the crowd that filled Knockout fade behind her as she and Ryan made their way through the front door and out into the night.
Halfway through the parking lot, Ryan tensed, the arm he’d put around her going stiff. For the first time, she felt the full weight of his muscled limb bearing down on her shoulders.
A ripple of surprise passed through her consciousness and she looked up to see that he’d raised his free hand, pressing his fingertips against his temple. “Are you all right?”
“Just a headache,” he said, and lowered his hand.
When they reached the car, he opened the passenger-side door for her.
“Where to?” he asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.
“I’m not picky. Is there anything in particular you’d like to eat?” After the exertion of his fights, he had to be starving.
“Well, if you really mean that…” He backed the car out of its space and rolled out onto the street. “I’d love some chicken and waffles.”
“Chicken and waffles?”
“Yeah. Waffles topped with chicken and gravy? I feel like I could eat about a hundred of them right now.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever tried that. Whenever I eat waffles, I put fruit on them. Or syrup.”
“You’re missing out.” He guided the car down a route he seemed to be familiar with. “You can try some of mine tonight. Maybe they’ll become a favorite of yours too.”
He took them to a twenty-four hour diner and parked in its small lot. “This place has the best chicken and waffles in the entire city. I should know – I tried all the places I could find when I first moved here.”
Ally’s interest peaked at the mention of his move. “Where did you live before you moved here?”
The slightest of frowns caused his lips to turn down at the corners. “North Carolina.”
“You didn’t like it there?”
He shrugged. “It was all right.”
There were military bases in North Carolina – that much she knew, though she couldn’t name any of them. “Were you in the military at the time?”
His eyes flashed briefly as they searched hers.
“I saw your tattoo – Semper Fidelis.”
Chapter 6
“I was a marine. Stationed at Camp Lejeune.”
He didn’t sound as interested in talking about it as she’d thought he would be, given his elaborate tattoo that paid homage to the Marine Corps.
His door popped as he opened it, then clicked when he shut it. He’d made his way to her side of the car by the time she’d unbuckled her seatbelt.
“Thanks,” she said, stepping out onto the pavement as he held the passenger-side door open for her.
“My pleasure.” He shut the door and pressed a hand gently against the small of her back, restoring her confidence with the sensual touch. For a moment, she’d feared that she’d made a mistake by bringing up his time in the military.
Once inside, she decided to take a leap of faith and order her own plate of chicken and waffles. Though it sounded like a strange combination, she liked chicken and she liked waffles. How bad could it be?
“Good choice.” Ryan winked at her.
She smiled, a flush of pleasure creeping across her cheeks. Blushing over chicken and waffles – she had it bad. Not that she could help it, really – her nerves were still buzzing with the memory of his touch and their kiss the night before. And her memories of his time in the ring that night were still vivid. She could visualize the way the muscles in his shoulders and back shifted when he threw a punch, a ripple of strength passing beneath the inked cover of his skin. There was a certain sexiness to watching him fight that she didn’t feel when the other guys stepped into the ring. Somehow, he made brutality seem sensual.
“Do you have work tomorrow?” he asked, meeting her eyes from across the Formica-topped table.
Ally shook her head. “No, my cousin is taking care of nails at the salon tomorrow. I’m planning to head over to the gym in the morning and warm up for the night’s event. I don’t want to tire myself out, but I do want to practice some kicks to make sure I don’t make the same mistake I did last time.”
“Maybe I could help. You know, give you some coaching.” He grinned. “I want to see you win.”
“Sure.” Her heart fluttered, and not just because one of the best – possibly the very best – fighters in the gym had just offered to help her personally. “I’d appreciate you taking the time to do that.”
“Believe me, it won’t be a chore.” He flashed her a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
The difference was noticeable – the way the expression normally transformed his face was something that made her heart beat faster.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
A nagging voice in the back of her mind wondered if something was wrong, but before she could ask, the waitress arrived with their food.
“Here you go.” She warned them that the plates were hot and lowered them onto the table.
The portions were more generous than Ally had expected, but the food smelled undeniably appealing.
Ryan dug into his without preamble, carving a large bite with his fork. Faint lines crisscrossed the back of his hand – impressions his hand wraps had left.
Ally took his cue and lifted her own fork.
“You were right,” she said a couple minutes later. “This is good.” The waffles were soft, the chicken tender and the spicy gravy made the dish unexpectedly savory. “I might actually be able to finish this plate.”
“A woman after my own heart.”
As it turned out, her eyes were bigger than her stomach. “Okay, I can’t finish this.” She gave up halfway through. “Do you want the rest?” He was almost done with his own plate.
“If you’re sure you don’t.”
“Definitely.” She pushed her plate toward him, across the table.
He started on her remaining waffle and a half. When the waitress stopped by their table to ask if they needed anything, he asked for a cup of coffee.
“Would you like one too?” she asked Ally.
“Do you have decaf?”
“We sure do.”
“I’ll have that, please.”
When the waitress was gone, Ally returned her attention to Ryan. “It takes me forever to fall asleep if I have caffeine
this late.”
He nodded. “I know what you mean. But caffeine sometimes helps take the edge off a headache. I’d rather be awake from caffeine than because I’m in too much pain to sleep.”
“Is it that bad?” The image of him raising a hand to his temple flashed through her mind. “You weren’t hit in the head tonight, were you?” She didn’t remember him suffering any direct blows to the head, but a thread of worry wove its way through her thoughts anyway. It happened all the time in MMA fights.
He shook his head, frowning faintly, as if he regretted the motion. “No.”
“My aunt gets headaches sometimes – migraines.” Occasionally, her Aunt Elsa would miss a day at the salon because the pain was too severe to allow her to work. Other times, they’d start while she was at work and she’d have to cancel her clients for the rest of the day. Or worse, she’d try to finish out the day, sometimes. Ally hated to watch her do that, trying to make her clients happy while she was in obvious agony.
“Yeah.” He pressed a hand to his temple and massaged it with his fingertips. “Headaches are a bitch.”
He’d barely taken his coffee from the waitress’ hand when he started drinking it, ignoring the packets of sugar and cream she’d set on the table.
Ally took a tentative sip of her own coffee. It was scalding hot. His wasn’t decaf, so maybe it wasn’t the exact same temperature, but visible tendrils of steam were rising from his cup and brushing his lips. However hot it was, he didn’t seem to care.
“Do you have medicine – maybe out in your car?” Elsa always carried medication in her purse as a preemptive measure. “I could go get it for you if you give me the keys.”
“Left it at home.” He stopped drinking for long enough to answer her.
“I won’t keep you, then. I know you must be in a lot of pain – you didn’t even flinch when you were kicked in the ribs tonight. This must be even worse.”
The fact that the headache was prompting him to show more signs of pain than physical blows dealt by a muscled middleweight full-contact fighter set her nerves on edge. He must suffer from killer migraines, like Elsa. She hated the feeling of helplessness that beset her as she studied the fine lines pain had carved around his normally sensual mouth.
He waved a hand. “Take your time finishing your coffee. I plan to have a second cup.”
She sipped her drink quickly anyway, wanting to be ready to leave whenever he was. She felt bad enough knowing he had to make a detour to drop her off at her home before he could get back to his place and take something to ease his pain.
He accepted the offer of a second cup from the waitress.
Ally declined.
He took longer to drink it than the first one, the lines around his mouth becoming more pronounced with each sip.
“Ready to go?” she asked when he finally finished.
“Yeah.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out his wallet.
The waitress had already left them a little black folder with their receipt enclosed.
He stuffed a couple bills inside and rose from his seat.
He didn’t wrap an arm around Ally when they exited the restaurant, or touch a hand to the small of her back.
She felt the absence of his touch, and the night seemed colder as a result.
He unlocked the car but didn’t immediately open the door. Instead, he braced himself with a hand above it, leaning against the vehicle. His head tipped slightly to the left, his cropped hair shining dully in the haze of a nearby streetlight.
A sinking feeling struck Ally as she remembered seeing the same motion twice before. “Are you okay?” Obviously, he wasn’t, but the words tumbled out anyway. “I mean, do you think you should drive?”
Several silent minutes ticked by. “I’ll be all right.” He opened his door and took his seat.
She followed his lead, sliding into the car and pulling the passenger-side door shut.
His keys jingled when he raised them, metal hitting metal.
She reached for him, touching her fingers to the back of his. “Your hands are shaking.” She gripped his hand in a hold that was somewhere between gentle and firm. “Maybe you should just sit back and rest for a minute.” He needed medication, but how could he steer the car when he was trembling just from raising the keys?
He pushed the key into the ignition but lowered his hand into his lap afterward.
She was still touching him. The side of her palm pressed against the inside of his thigh as she maintained a light hold on his hand – a gesture intended to comfort, not tantalize. A little bolt of sensation zipped down her spine anyway. More importantly, the contact allowed her to gauge the shaking in his hand. Moments ticked by, and still it didn’t fade.
“Maybe I should call a cab,” she said. Thanks to Elsa, she knew that headaches were best thwarted if treated early. The longer Ryan waited, the less chance he had of stopping the pain with medication.
“Can’t leave my car here,” he breathed.
Ally glanced guiltily around at the car’s shining chrome and black vinyl surfaces. He obviously was careful to keep the vehicle in perfect condition, and she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to let it sit unsupervised in a diner’s parking lot overnight.
“I don’t want anything to happen to it, and I can’t afford for it to be towed.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
“I’ll drive to your place, then,” Ally said, mustering all of her confidence and doing her best to project it into her voice. “I can’t just sit here and watch you suffer.”
“You know how to drive a stick-shift?”
“My father taught me years ago.” Her father’s car had been a stick-shift, and he’d spent hours teaching her to drive it when she’d been a teenager. A few months after he’d gone to prison, her mother, who’d never learned to drive, had been forced to sell the vehicle to scrape by. Which meant that Ally hadn’t driven any vehicle, let alone a stick-shift, in over five years.
“If you’re sure.”
She’d expected him to put up more of a fight – after all, the car seemed to be his prized possession. The fact that he agreed so quickly both scared her and increased her resolve to drive him safely home. “I’m sure. Switch seats with me.”
He didn’t move with his usual fluid grace when he opened the door and climbed out of his seat. Instead, he stumbled a little.
With one tooth buried in the soft flesh of her lower lip, Ally hurried around the other side of the car and slid into the driver’s seat. The leather was still warm from Ryan’s body heat and would have been a source of pleasure if her stomach hadn’t been tied in knots.
“Do you have a license?” Ryan asked as he pulled the passenger-side door shut.
“No,” Ally admitted, biting her lip a little harder.
“Well, don’t speed.”
With those sparse words of wisdom ringing in her ears, she turned the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life. “I’ll be careful. Your place isn’t too far from here, is it?”
“It’s about a ten minute drive. I like coming here because it’s close.”
“Just tell me where to go.” Willing her hand not to tremble like Ryan’s had, she lowered it onto the gear shift.
“Take a right when you leave the parking lot.” He spoke, the only person who’d ever given her driving directions besides her father.
She made it out of the parking lot without incident, but cringed when a loud grinding sound rent the air when she switched gears while increasing her speed. “Sorry,” she breathed. “It’s okay – I’ve got it now.”
Ryan didn’t freak out – fortunately. Instead, he continued to direct her.
The ten minute drive seemed more like twenty as she heeded Ryan’s directions, her every thought focused on not completely messing up the drive and his car. The vehicle was more powerful than her father’s sedan had been by a long shot. Every time she pressed her foot to the pedal, she was surprised by how the car seemed to want to leap forward. At first sh
e tried to drive as smoothly as Ryan did, but that was an impossible goal. After the first few blocks, she settled for not rear-ending anyone or turning onto any one-way streets.
“Turn here,” Ryan instructed, his voice roughened by obvious pain.
The stress of letting her drive his car probably hadn’t helped his headache – a thought that would have inspired guilt if she’d been able to think of another reasonable solution.
“It’s the building on the left.”
Relief washed over her as she laid eyes on a four-story brick apartment building. There was a row of slanted parking spaces in front, two of them open.
She chose one and resolved to guide the car into it without scraping the vehicles on either side or riding up onto the curb.
Slowly but surely, she succeeded. When she’d put the car in park, she didn’t even bother to suppress a sigh of relief.
“Which apartment is yours?” she asked as they exited the vehicle and she surrendered the keys to Ryan.
He locked the car with the push of a button. “Top floor, farthest to the left.”
They’d have to climb four flights of stairs to get there. Ally mentally catalogued the state of Ryan’s body, from his shaking hands to the hard line of his mouth. The sensuality of his full lips wasn’t completely gone, but her enjoyment of the sight of them was diminished by his obvious agony.
“Is it all right if I come inside? I’ll have to call a cab.” She didn’t want to linger alone out on the street, and the thought of Ryan climbing the stairs alone worried her. His gait lacked its usual steadiness and the concrete steps would be unforgiving if he slipped.
“Of course.”
She followed him up the stairs, climbing slightly behind him while mentally grappling with the logistics of how she could best catch him if he fell. Any way she looked at it, it wouldn’t be easy to support his six foot frame. She was over half a foot shorter than him and weighed in at 130 pounds – a frail weight compared to his muscular mass.