by J. Lynn
“You know what? Fuck ’em,” Katie replied, moving onto the waffle that was as wide as her plate. “That’s my motto. Because here’s the deal. They hate on you because you had mutual, consensual humping with some guys who weren’t even involved with anyone, while they worship the dirty-ass ground the guy walks on, like they slipped and fell into your vagina, for doing the same thing? That’s what we like to call dumb double standards, and what we in the business like to also call ‘Mind your own business.’ No matter how many times it’s explained to those kind of people, they aren’t going to understand. Never. Dude, that’s their problem. Not yours.”
“True,” Roxy said, nodding.
“Women are each other’s worst enemy, you know?” Katie continued. “Wives and girlfriends all the time come into the club, pissed off at me, because their husband or boyfriend came there on his own free will. Like, just because I strip, I want to get with their goofy ass husbands.” She rolled her blue eyes so far back I worried they’d get stuck. “And if doing that and having safe and fun times with available dudes makes me a slut, I have no problem getting that tattooed on my middle finger.”
Suddenly, without any one reason I could put my finger on, the back of my eyes started to burn, and I think I fell a little in love with Roxy and Katie at that moment.
These were my people.
Roxy’s gaze bounced from Katie to me, and her smile turned soft and mischievous. “Speaking of guys who are players, players, I have to bring up Nick.”
A strange pressure clenched my chest as I scooped up the last of my omelet. Nick. Oh, Nicky boy. I was so doing my best to not think of him and his parting words.
That you and I are the way we are.
What in the hell was that supposed to mean and why was it a shame? And why did he have to be so freaking hot and really shitty when it came to dealing with the opposite sex? Ugh. Double and triple ugh.
“Yeah,” Katie said. “Now let’s get to the good stuff.” She twisted toward me. “So you and Nick hooked up. Congrats on that. I imagine that was a good and decent hard fucking.”
The fluffy egg and diced bell peppers I’d just eaten almost got stuck in my throat. I swallowed quickly and then dragged in air. “What?”
Finished with her food, Roxy pinned me with a no nonsense stare that would’ve made my mama proud. “We know you hooked up with him.”
“Did he tell you that?” I blurted out.
Roxy grinned. “No, but you just confirmed what we already knew.”
My eyes narrowed. Dammit. “If he didn’t, then how did you know?”
“Because of what he said to you when he saw you Friday night in the bar,” Katie explained. “He didn’t expect you to come back. Therefore, that means y’all did the nasty. That’s his M.O.”
“You guys know about his . . . I guess, his rule?” I started to fiddle with the wrapper the straw had come in, folding it like an accordion. Although I had sincerely forgiven him, anger brewed. “Did everyone know about that except me?”
“Well, everyone who knows him does.” Roxy’s brows knitted as she studied me. “He didn’t set up ground rules or something before you all got down to business?”
This was such a weird conversation, when I thought about it. “Not really. At least not in a way that I understood what he was saying. Having a rule where a girl can’t go back to the bar after sleeping with him is about the dumbest thing I’d ever heard of.”
“You’d be surprised by how many chicks he’s hooked up with who’re totally okay with it,” Roxy replied dryly, and then leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. “But as long as they’re cool with it, too, whatever, but man, when you told him off at the bar, it was freaking priceless. Don’t get me wrong. I consider Nick a friend, and we get along because we’re just friends, but I wished I had thought to record that.”
I’m glad she hadn’t.
“I’m so disappointed I missed that.” Katie sighed heavily. “But you gave him hell. He needs that. Hell, most people need that every now and then.”
“Oh man, and when he jumped over the bar to stop you from leaving?” Roxy fanned her face with her hand. “I need to get Reece to do that at least once a week for me.”
I coughed out a laugh. “Yeah, that was kind of impressive.”
“And I also missed that.” Katie pouted. “Such bullshit.”
Roxy grinned. “So are you going to give us the details?”
“Apparently you all already know everything.” I straightened out my straw wrapper and then began folding it again. “Not many details left.”
“There’s always detail,” Katie corrected. “But I don’t have to ask if he’s good or not, because one look at him tells me he’s good at it.”
A flush stained Roxy’s cheeks. “And that’s not the kind of detail we’re asking for. I know he went to see you after he left Mona’s Friday night. His car was in the condo parking lot.”
So he did drive a car. I shook my head. “He did stop by Friday night, but we didn’t do anything. He actually came over to apologize to me.”
Roxy’s brows climbed her forehead as she exchanged a look with Katie. “Say what?”
I glanced at the bedazzled girl next to me. “He came over to apologize for the way he acted.” I paused. “Obviously, that must be shocking behavior for him.”
“Shocking doesn’t really even cover it.” Roxy blinked a couple of times. “Did he try to get some after apologizing?”
“Not really,” I answered, letting the wrapper uncurl in my palm.
“Whoa,” Katie murmured.
I wasn’t sure if the whoa was a good or bad thing. “He seemed genuinely apologetic, to be honest. We chatted for a little while and then he left, but he did say something along the lines of me coming back to the bar.”
“Whoa,” repeated Roxy.
“Is this all really that surprising?” I sat back, dropping the wrapper on my plate.
Roxy nodded slowly. “Yeah, for Nick it is. Look, I don’t know how to say this nicely, but—”
“He’s a dick?” I finished for her, and when she winced, I had to fight the grin. “Trust me, I know he’s a dick. I’ve never in my life had a guy act like that after we got together. And I’ve only forgiven him because, like I said, he seemed genuinely sorry. That doesn’t erase how he acted, though.”
“Yeah, he’s a dick,” Roxy said. “But he can be a really nice guy. Nick was there for me when I was dealing with that . . . that creep, but he’s got relationship issues,” she finished.
“I don’t think he’s a bad guy,” I said. “I just think he’s not relationship material.”
Roxy was silent for a moment as she smoothed her hand over her hair, stopping when she reached the topknot. “I honestly think I’m his only female friend. He hardly talks to Calla. It’s kind of weird. It’s like she doesn’t exist to him.”
Okay, that was weird. I thought about how he believed he met the “one” but had been wrong. Was it Calla? I didn’t know enough about her to even hazard a guess at that possibility.
“But that’s just how he is.” Roxy’s brow creased as she continued. “And we’re not even that close. He’s not the most talkative guy. Sometimes he goes through spells when he is, but mostly, he’s kind of quiet, like an observer.”
Come to think of it, he hadn’t been real talkative the first night we got together. Then again, both of us had other things on our minds. “He was pretty talkative Friday night.”
“That’s pretty telling.” Roxy’s forehead smoothed out. “When you walked back into the bar Friday night, I just knew something was going to go down between you two.”
“Of course you did, because I called it the first night Steph walked in the bar.”
I turned to Katie. “You did?”
“Remember. I’m kind of psychic.” She tapped her
finger off her temple. “I called it.”
“She did,” Roxy confirmed, grinning gleefully, while I’m sure I had What the Hell written all over my face. “Katie told Nick that someone was coming into the bar who he was going to fall for and he was going to meet his match. Guess what?”
“What?” I said wryly.
“You strolled right on in that night.” She clapped her hands excitedly. “And here we are.”
For a moment all I could do was stare, and then I laughed. Some of the weird comments Roxy and Katie had made when I first met them now made sense. “I don’t see why this is such a big deal. Nick’s a player who normally doesn’t apologize or act decent to chicks he’s slept with. Knowing that doesn’t make him more alluring in my book. And even you said he was a dick.”
“Well, no shit, but the fact that he is acting different with you means something,” Roxy countered, and then she squinted. “Unless you don’t want it to mean anything.”
“She doesn’t,” Katie answered, and my gaze swung to hers sharply. “She’s going to break his heart.”
I stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded. “I am not going to break anyone’s heart.”
“Oh, you will. You won’t mean to, but it’s going to happen.” She was serious, and a sad look crept into her features as she met my stare. “Yeah, it’s going to happen.”
Shaking my head, I turned to Roxy. She was staring at Katie with this perplexed look on her face. I threw up my hands. “Why are we even having this conversation? Just because I accepted his apology and he appears to want to be friends doesn’t mean either of us are entertaining the idea of going there again.”
“People can change,” Roxy said.
I shot her a bland look. “Please don’t tack ‘for the right person’ on the end of that.”
She made a face. “No. I was going to tack ‘when they want to’ on the end of that.”
“Oh.” I flashed a brief grin. “That sounds more believable, but still, it doesn’t matter. Maybe Nick and I will be friends at some point, but that’s it. I don’t think our paths are going to cross a lot outside of visiting you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Katie said, and when she looked at me, the unwarranted and strange sadness lingered on her pretty face. “I don’t think you’re going to have a choice when it comes down to it.”
Chapter 8
The first day of October slammed into the city of brotherly love, winds blustery and temps that made me rethink the decision to move farther north instead of south. As I worked at my desk, I hoped that I wouldn’t have to go out again. The thin linen pants and blouse, even with my jacket and scarf and gloves, did nothing to beat down the cold.
There was a good chance I really was coming down with something.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I flattened my hand on my belly. My stomach churned like a washing machine. It had been that way since I got up. Running in the wind had been hard enough, but adding in the nausea and the lingering fatigue, I barely made it this morning.
Missing any time when I was only in my forth week at the academy was unacceptable. What I needed to do at lunch was swing by the Walgreens down the street and stock up on antiflu meds.
I was going to try to will myself into not being sick, I decided as I started working again. Mind over body and all that jazz.
My fingers stilled on the keyboard as I heard Rick’s high-pitched laugh and I gritted my teeth. As I focused on my screen, my cell phone buzzed from where I’d placed it under the monitor. My gaze flicked to it. It was a text, and there was a number in the little box above the message, one I didn’t recognize.
Hey.
That was all the text said. Frowning, I waited a few seconds, and when there wasn’t another message, I picked up my phone, and clicked on the text, then went to the add photo option. I scrolled until I found an image of a little girl glaring at the camera with a perfect what-the-hell expression on her little face. Grinning, I sent the picture back as my response and then placed the phone down.
Perfect timing, too, because I heard Mr. Bowser’s voice—er, Marcus. He’d insisted that I call him Marcus. Stretching up, I peered over my cubicle. My eyes widened. It was Marcus walking with Andrew Lima. The man who owned Lima Academy was shorter than me, but even though he was well into his fifties, the body under the shirt and nylon pants was that of twenty-year-old. He was smiling at something Marcus said, his teeth a brilliant white against skin that reminded me of sunbaked clay. The man was definitely handsome, even with the two cauliflower ears and the thin scar that ran across a nose that had obviously been broken a time or dozen. It was crazy—the older man probably knew exactly where to deliver a blow that would immobilize a person or worse in under a second.
My heart tripped up and the acid in my stomach started bubbling. I was nervous to meet my boss for the first time.
Andrew and Marcus also weren’t alone.
Beside Andrew Lima was the one and only Brock “the Beast” Mitchell. I knew this because it’s what his shirt said. Plus the guy was built. Not as overly done as Rick, but those shoulders could take down doors. He wore a dark blue baseball cap, twisted backward, but otherwise was dressed the same as Andrew Lima. His gaze was lowered as he walked along, trussing his right wrist with white hand wrap. I assumed they must be gearing up for training.
Brock glanced up at something Andrew said and his lips spread in a wide smile. His dark brown eyes were a deep, warm shade, and his features intense, almost perfectly asymmetrical. Wow. I’d seen pictures of Brock, but they hadn’t done him justice. I totally got why Katie said she’d have a landing strip just for him. The guy was gorgeous, almost too gorgeous to be putting that face in front of punches and kicks.
My phone buzzed again, but before I could glance down to check it out, Marcus was at my desk. Our eyes met, and I fixed a smile on my face as I rose, ignoring the nauseous tumble my stomach decided to take.
The group stopped and Marcus’s skin crinkled at his eyes as he gestured toward me. “Ah, Andrew, you haven’t had a chance to meet my new assistant. This is Stephanie.” Marcus angled his body toward them. “And this is Brock,” he said to me. “He just returned with Andrew.”
Don’t puke on the boss. Don’t puke on the boss. I extended my hand, and Mr. Lima’s handshake was firm and brief. “It’s nice to meet you.” Don’t puke on the hot martial-arts dude. Don’t puke on the hot martial-arts dude. I offered him my hand, too. “It’s nice to meet you also.”
Recognition flared in Brock’s brown eyes as he shook my hand with his left. “You’re the infamous Steph.”
I froze, having no idea what he was talking about. As my wide gaze swung to Marcus, I could feel the bile climbing up the back of my throat.
Marcus arched a brow.
Andrew chuckled as he leaned against my cubicle wall. “Infamous? This is a story I’ve got to hear.”
“I’ve heard that Stephanie schooled Nick over at Mona’s last week,” Brock explained, and there was a good chance my eyes were going to pop out of my head. “Brought him down a peg or two in front of everyone.”
Oh my God.
“Everyone has been talking about it,” Brock went on, much to my growing horror. “Jax gave me a blow-by-blow description on the phone the other night. Wished he had that on tape.”
As did Katie.
Andrew looked impressed as he eyed me. “I can only imagine what Nick did to warrant that.”
Would it look strange if I dived under my desk and hid?
“What has Nick been up to lately?” Andrew glanced at Brock, who was grinning like a madman. “He hasn’t been in the gym. I miss sparring with him.”
Nick sparred with Andrew Lima? Oh wow. That sort of explained how he was in the kind of shape he was.
“You miss kicking his ass,” Brock replied, chuckling as he started wrapping his left han
d. “I don’t know.” Those dark lashes lifted and brown eyes pierced me. “I have a feeling we’re going to see more of Nick.”
Oh my word.
All I could do was smile weakly. My stomach had finally settled down, but now I felt out of it for a different reason. Never would I have ever thought that anything to do with Nick would somehow come up while at work. Without warning, Katie’s odd statement cycled through my thoughts.
That I wasn’t going to have a choice when it came to our paths crossing.
Was Katie really a psychic stripper?
No. I gave myself a good mental bitch slap and focused on the men in front of me. I glanced at Marcus and shook my head. “I’m sort of a . . . combative personality. Sometimes.”
Andrew laughed again.
“You’ll find that most of the people around here have the same personality.” Marcus’s eyes gleamed in the bright light. “Did you finish the report I requested?”
“Yes.” I clasped my hands together. “It’s on your desk.”
“Perfect,” replied Marcus.
“Where are you from, Stephanie?” Andrew politely asked as he raised his hand, smoothing it over his closer cropped hair. Light reflected off a wedding band. “Local or out of state?”
“Out of state,” I answered. “I’m from West Virginia.” Pausing, I waited for the inevitable overused and not funny comment or the widening of the eyes. When that didn’t happen, I added cool points to all the guys. “I graduated from Shepherd University.”
“Really?” Interest sparked in the owner’s eyes, and a muscle flickered along Brock’s jaw as he secured the wrap on his hand.