The Perfect Comeback

by Kacey Shea

  “Yeah, well. I’m here to work, not socialize. See you around.” I wave and turn, but catch a glimpse of hurt spread across her face before she’s out of view. I instantly feel bad, too. My words were petty and intended to sting, but she doesn’t deserve that.

  “Friends of yours?” Jesse asks as we step outside the building and hoof it to where his truck is parked a few buildings over.

  “She is, yeah.”

  “She’s a looker.”

  “Yeah, she is.” Seeing her today is another smack of reality. She’s way out of my league, and while I don’t usually date, I’ve never dated someone like Mia. I’m almost certain there’s no one else like her. Or that I don’t deserve a chance. But here I am being dealt this amazingly good luck of the draw. The pressure is on, and while I could fold and walk away without being behind, that alone feels like a loss. When it comes to Mia, I’m not even sure what I’ll win, but I’m sure as hell sticking around for the fight.

  Kind of disappointing, but there are no more run-ins with Mia at the job site. While it’s highly improbable considering the sheer size of the downtown office building and the number of people who come and go, I still can’t help but keep an eye out for her long locks in the crowd. They’re a deep, almost burgundy red, a color that’s most obviously not natural and teeters on unprofessional without crossing the line. Although I assume they have pretty relaxed guidelines at her company since her friend rocks a blue faux hawk.

  I try not to think about her too much, but it’s crazy to be so close, only two floors away, and not be reminded of her snarky humor or lips that fight so hard before giving in to a smile. I know this dating bet is only a joke for her, but it’s not for me. She’s guarded behind her independent and successful nature, and there’s a challenge there. But also great reward. Mia’s not someone who falls for anything or anyone. Her affection is a prize worth fighting for because it’s not given freely to just any man. I don’t think it’s even possible to sweep her off her feet but I’m gonna try.

  I’ve already planned out the perfect first date. Not that there was a whole lot to do, but I put a lot of thought into it—a favor from a client and a leap of faith she’s really not into typical first date activities.

  The rest of Monday flies by with hard work and several trips up and down the elevator with paint buckets. They have me doing grunt work, and regardless of whether it’s because of my size or the fact I’m the new guy, I don’t care. A paycheck is a paycheck. I’m just looking to get paid. I cut out at three and take the bus over to South Side with barely enough time to change and scarf down some food before a night of teaching classes and training my fighters.

  Xavier shows as promised, and while the swelling has gone down in his face, the bruises are painted in ugly shades of blues and purples. It’s almost painful to look at, but I give him credit; despite his injuries, he hustles hard during practice. As if he has something to prove, and really, doesn’t he? He needs this fight to get his mom the care she needs. There’s nothing to do with the hand dealt in life except play it to win. He’s got to fight, and I’ll do everything in my power to get him ready.

  Xavier is a leader through and through, and when he pushes and grinds like this, the rest of the guys follow. He might’ve only just turned twenty—a good five to eight years younger than half of my crew—but he’s the one who sets the pace amongst his peers. The energy in the gym is palpable and addicting, and even I end up getting in on some of the drills and cardio sprints just for fun. By the time I get back to my apartment, I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.

  Tuesday brings more of the same—another long day of work—but my Uncle Jimmy stops by the job site before I leave for the gym and hands me an envelope. It’s my pay in cash, and up front before I’ve earned it.

  “Uncle Jimmy . . . I can’t take this. Not yet. I’ve only put in two days.”

  “Bullshit. This is my company and if I want to give you an advance, that’s what I’ll do. Just don’t tell the rest of the crew. Can’t be giving out special favors for just anyone.”

  “You didn’t have to do this for me. I don’t mind earning it.”

  “Yeah, well, you are my second favorite nephew.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. Carl treatin’ you okay?”

  He told me this morning I should jump off the building if he caught me taking extra breaks. “Carl’s just fine.”

  Uncle Jimmy raises his brow and chuckles. “That man’s a hardass son of a bitch. You never were a narc.”

  I shrug because we both know exactly what that means.

  “Your dad said he stopped by your place . . .”

  “Yeah.” I scoff, remembering that delightful encounter.

  “Don’t be so hard on him. He’s trying, Matt.”

  I shake my head before he even finishes saying the words. “Don’t. You won’t change my mind as much as he can’t change who he is.”

  Jimmy’s chin drops and he studies the primer we did on one of the office walls, running his hand over the now dry and smooth surface. “Just remember where you came from, Matt. Don’t burn bridges you can’t get back. I’m not saying he’s without fault, but he is trying.”

  I don’t even know what that means, but I can’t allow myself to care or hope. I wasted much of my youth trying to please a man who never even noticed. Who was only running his own agenda between spreads, a bottle of gin, and multiple women. I’ve no desire to let my father back into my life.

  “Thank you for the job.” I tuck the envelope into my pocket and then reach out to hug my uncle with open arms. He returns the gesture and I step back toward the bank of elevators. “I’ve gotta run. Classes to teach.”

  “Your boys have any fights coming up?”

  “Yeah, actually there’s a big one in three weeks.”

  “Save me a ticket?”

  “You got it.”

  Clocking out for the day, I hightail it back to the gym to lock the money in the safe before opening up the doors. I check the envelope and am shocked when I find there’s four grand inside, and not the one or two I expected. I shake my head with a mixture of relief and frustration. This gets me by until after the fights; until a big contract for Xavier. But I can’t accept it. Not unless Jimmy puts me on jobs for another two months. I grab for my phone to tell him just that when I notice a missed call from Mia. Message too. Clicking on the screen, I hit play and the speaker button while I unlock the safe in my office and tuck the bills safely away until I can make it to the bank.

  Matt, hi, Mia. I’m sorry to do this, but I can’t get there tonight. I think I mentioned we had investors in town. Things are good, but they decided to stay another night. Anyway, that means another night of wining and dining. I hope you get this. Let me know if you do. Again, I’m sorry for the last minute change. ’Bye.

  For a second I wonder whether she’s telling the truth or running. I saw her reaction when I took her bet. She’s not thrilled to date me. In fact, I think she’s either too proud or stubborn to back down. Then, our encounter in the elevator yesterday, when she was looking sexy as . . . I shake my head, send her a thumbs up message and turn off my cell. No more distractions. There are bigger issues at stake than whether this woman wants to spend time with me. I’ve got a fighter to train.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mia

  I can’t tell if I’m irritated or relieved that Matt’s response to me canceling our training session was an emoji. A thumbs up, no less! I felt bad giving him short notice, but I was given the same. Stanton issued all of the senior developers and programmers an invitation to dinner barely two hours before quitting time. While it was offered casually, only a stupid person would decline. Stanton wasn’t really asking; it was a command, and if these bigwigs left unsatisfied, we’d all have hell to pay from now until the game went live. So instead, our company treated us to Chicago’s best deep-dish and bottomless drinks, and everyone went home happy.

  Tensions were high eno
ugh leading up to this week, but as far as I can tell Stanton’s pleased with our presentations and day-long meetings. I can only hope that means the investors are satisfied with the progress of Project X. Either way, it’s been a long week and the entire staff is happy things are back to normal now that they’ve left. We can also get back to working in our relaxed fit jeans and comfy tees.

  I haven’t had time to think of much else, but every single time I ride the elevator up or down I look for the Haywood painting crew shirts. Logically, I know there’s a slim chance of running into Matt again, but this Thursday evening is no different. As Jared and I leave the office, my eyes search the slew of people exiting our building.

  “He’s not here,” Jared says with his smug know-it-all sass.

  “Who?” I hedge, because I will not admit aloud to the fact I’ve looked for Matt every time I’ve taken the elevator since running into him.

  Jared pauses before we step outside to wrap his scarf around his neck and tuck it into the front of his coat. “You do know who you’re talking to? Maybe leave the theatrics for someone who’ll buy it.”

  “Whatever.” A shiver works its way down my spine the moment we step outside. The cold wind delivers an icy smack to my face.

  “Mmm hmm. So, do we know when this epic first date is going down?”

  “Sunday.” I spit out the word but Jared gives a little clap.

  “You gonna chicken out?” He raises his brow, slides his arm inside mine, and proceeds to pull me down the street.

  I bristle with the accusation. “I’m no chicken.”

  “Good girl. Now, do you have time to grab dinner before you go roll around on the floor with that hunk of a man? Or do you need to go home and shave your legs first?”

  “You make it sound like we’re doing something sexual.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. “Ugh! Stop or I’ll make you eat alone tonight.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  “Fine. What’ll it be, Thai or Chinese?”

  “As long as it doesn’t come with a side of nagging and judgment, I don’t care. You pick.” I huff but I can already tell he’s steering us toward his favorite noodle spot. I won’t admit that sounds heavenly about now with the way this wind whips my hair into my face.

  He pouts but it’s forced. “That’s not fair. I just want you to be happy, Kitten.”

  A guffaw erupts from my belly. “Happy doesn’t equal getting laid.”

  “Says the angry woman who’s not getting some,” he snaps, but when I turn my chin to shoot daggers with my glare he shakes his head and relents. “Fine. Thai food it is.”

  After dinner with Jared and then a quick bus ride, I find myself once again inside South Side Gym, waiting while almost two dozen fighters in every shape, color, and size train with all they have. It’s fascinating to watch them, and I stand against the wall nearest the door much like a peeping tom. Matt’s the most interesting of them all. I don’t know why, but when I think of a coach, I think of someone barking orders, intense, maybe even a little frightening. He’s none of these. Completely patient, ruling with a gentle sword, the men all look to him after each drill for wisdom and guidance. He’s really got something special here and I mentally make myself a reminder to get his new website up and running ASAP. More people need to know about this place.

  “Alright, let’s bring it in,” he instructs and they all huddle in the center of the mats. He speaks in a tone so low I’m unable to eavesdrop from where I stand. I consider inching closer, but I don’t think he’s spotted me yet, and somehow there’s freedom in knowing I can surreptitiously observe.

  Not a minute goes by before they all shout, “South Side!” The guys make quick work of returning equipment to their designated spots and wiping down the mats before heading out the door.

  I scoot from my spot and find an empty chair near the front desk to set my bag and wait.

  Matt speaks with two young men, one I remember as Ricky, and the other I haven’t seen before, but who looks as though he recently got his ass whooped by the bruising on his face. The three talk in hushed tones with an intensity that piques my curiosity as to the topic of their discussion.

  “You trainin’ for the octagon?” A man disrupts my staring as he packs up his bag and pulls on a pair of dirty sweats from the chair next to me. Dear God, when was the last time he washed those?

  “Oh, no. I’m no fighter. Only looking to improve my self-defense skills.” I smile politely when really it’s taking everything in my power not to count the grease stains down the front of his pants and sweatshirt. At least, I hope they’re grease stains.

  “You ever need a sparrin’ partner? I’m your man.” I don’t miss the way his chest puffs up with the invitation. I’m sure he’d love that, but I’m not sure I could go one minute without puking on his clothes. Not that he’d mind. Probably still wouldn’t wash those things!

  “Josh! Stop harassing my client!” Matt calls from across the room and only then does his stare meet mine for the first time this evening. Hot. Much like the temperature in this space. I can’t seem to glance away first. I attribute that mostly to my competitive nature. Only a tiny part is because Jared put filthy, sexy ideas into my head and now I can’t not imagine them.

  Matt takes a few steps closer, the two young men at his sides.

  “Hey, Matt.” I wave.

  “Mia, give me a few minutes. I’ll meet you on the mats.”

  “Sure.” I slip my jacket off my shoulders and toe my shoes off before stepping over to the center of the workout space. Josh Grossy-grosser-son leaves without another word and I’m thankful Matt asked him to bug off. Not because I can’t turn him down, but more because I wouldn’t have been so nice. But it’s not my intent to cost Matt a client.

  Matt jogs over. “Thanks for waiting. Sorry we ran late tonight.”

  “It’s no problem. Your guys are looking good.” Not that I know anything about fighting, but from their effort and the sweat drenched clothes I’d think they had a good practice.

  “Yeah, we’ve got a big fight coming up. Five of my guys are competing. It’s semi pro, and for some of them it’s their first time in the octagon. For others, it’s their chance to shine and get a ticket to the big leagues.”

  “That’s awesome. You seem really invested in their success.”

  “Yeah, it’s not entirely altruistic. The better the fighters are who come out of my gym, the more money and business for me, and as their coach, I’ll get a cut of the winnings. But even if I didn’t need the money I’d still be doing this. If I can’t fight, I might as well give back to those who can.”

  I wonder why exactly he quit. If it was just his time or if there’s an age limit to a career in MMA. Not that Matt’s old, but I can’t imagine getting knocked around for sport is good on the body. I open my mouth to ask but before I can, he interrupts.

  “Today we’re gonna work on escapes. I need you to trust me.”

  “Trust you?” My brow lifts because I already hate the sound of this.

  “Look, an attacker, a real one, isn’t going to give warning. He’s not gonna be nice. You’re doing great with training, so we need to move on to real life scenarios.”

  “Okay . . .” Apprehension pricks my nerves because I remember exactly how that feels, and how unprepared I was last time. Matt’s somber expression only heightens my fear.

  “Trust me,” he says and I take a breath, nodding once.

  He charges and my ass hits the floor before I see it coming. My first instinct is to run, but I can’t because his body weight presses me to the ground. I try using my heels as leverage against the mat but I go nowhere.

  “Come on, Mia. What did I teach you?” Matt growls into my ear and it’s enough to knock me out of my surprise and into action.

  “Help! Help! Get off me! Let me go!” I scream and my hands, free at the moment, grab his head and pull it tight to my chest so I can c
law at the skin on Matt’s face. I almost feel bad, but then again, he started this. He also taught me the move.

  Matt grips my wrists and pulls them from his head easily before springing back off the ground. “Good.” He holds a hand out to help pull me up.

  “What the fuck was that?” Adrenaline surges through my body, and I’m left with a good dose of irritation and anger.

  “I told you. That’s what we train for. The real thing. I do you no service by going through step-by-step drills if you freeze up when it’s go time.”

  “I didn’t freeze up! I didn’t know you were going to do that!” I say but he only lifts his brow and meets my stare. “Okay, fine. I see the point. But I can do better. Let’s go again.” This time I back up a few steps and put my hands out wide so I can try and keep him from knocking me on my butt.

  His lips pull into a smile that eventually fills his face. “Yes, ma’am. Let’s go.”

  For the next thirty minutes Matt comes at me, sometimes unexpectedly, others with plenty of time to combat his advances. With each turn my movements become more natural, and Matt applauds my effort.

  “Okay, I’m going to change things up on you now. You’ve got this.”

  I nod, but once again he’s already charging forward. He grips one of my wrists but I get out of it. My smile only lasts a split second before he dives at me so quickly my back hits the floor and my breath releases in a rush. Matt’s hands press my wrists down on the mat. It shouldn’t be any different than all the other times we’ve run this drill. I know what to do, or what to try in order to get out, but the air charges between us. There’s a sexual current that only magnifies with his ragged breath.

  I’m supposed to shout, lift my hips and thrash out until he loosens his hold, but instead my body has other plans. Lust, powerful and sudden pulses through my veins, replacing the adrenaline there earlier. Of their own accord my legs wrap around his hips. It’s not the first time we’ve fit together like this during training, but the other times were clinical. This is different. This time my body aches with need and it’s all I can do to not pull his body toward me and erase every inch of space between us.