Dirty Boxing
Page 3
Focus. That was the past. You have a job to do now. Don’t let him distract you.
“We need print ads and general commercial spots. Julian, I also want you to set up some interviews—radio, TV, podcasts, sports websites, whatever you can get for Nick. We need someone out there besides me talking about how we’re growing. We need to start creating our own content too. Short spots we can upload to promote upcoming cards. A little buzz and excitement to get things rolling. Nick, you like to talk. Figured this shit was right up your alley.”
“Just tell me where to stand and what to say and I’m there, boss. I’ll even bring my hair.”
“Settle down. This isn’t a fucking L’Oréal commercial. Just be yourself.” He paused, frowning for a second. “Well, the self that Julian coaches you to be for the media.”
She couldn’t coach him. She couldn’t even talk to him.
Deb’s voice came through the phone system on his desk. “Craig, Tim’s on line one, said the arena is refusing to open early enough on Saturday. Something about a private event.”
“Okay, give me a minute, Deb.” Looking back at Jules, he continued. “Look, bottom line is that this project is already weeks, if not months, behind schedule. It’ll be tight, but I know you can get it done. I’ll have Deb send you a list of the ad space we’ve managed to buy so far. I’ll leave it to you and Giannakis to work out the details.” Then he turned to Nick and, taking a deep breath, said, “I appreciate you doing this.”
Realizing they’d been dismissed when he picked up the receiver, Jules quickly gathered her tablet and rose to her feet. “I’ll have my assistant be in touch. If you could forward her your schedule, that’d be great.” Then she made for the door before he had the chance to stop her.
She was running again. Nick watched as Jules scrambled for the door, amazed there wasn’t a little cartoon puff of smoke trailing behind her.
He pushed out of his chair and ate up the distance between Darcy’s desk and the door in long strides. A year ago, she’d run. Earlier today, she’d run. And both times he’d let her. But he wouldn’t this time, not when they had unfinished business.
He stepped into the hallway just in time to see Jules take a corner down the hall to the right, and he set off after her, memories and emotions tumbling through him, clashing like metal on stone, hard and sharp and abrasive. Three amazing weeks, forever tarnished by the way she’d left. He’d fallen for her, hard, and he’d been a fool.
And fool that he was, he wanted answers. Wanted to understand why she’d left, why she’d pulled the plug just as they were getting started. Wanted to know why she was avoiding him now. He had a hard time believing it was because she didn’t want anything to do with him. Not after the way they’d connected, physically and emotionally. Yeah, it had only been three weeks, but they’d been the best damn three weeks of his life.
He’d been surprised at how hard he’d fallen. She’d seemed to understand him without even trying, as though everything about him had made perfect sense to her. He’d dated plenty, but he’d never experienced that before, that sense of just . . . coming home to someone, the right someone. No other woman had ever gotten under his skin the way she had. But Jules had crawled right in, wrapping herself around his heart right before she'd ripped it out and kicked it to the corner.
He knew from past relationship experience that fighters weren’t the easiest guys to date. Training took up so much time and energy, took so much focus and ego to succeed. There were injuries, emotional highs and lows, travel, and most fighters didn’t have much money. For a lot of women, once the allure of dating a ripped guy with stamina wore off, they were gone. But not Jules. From the first night he’d met her, she’d just got him, got the fighting, got what it meant to him.
He knew now that part of that came from the fact that she was Craig Darcy’s daughter. But knowing that didn’t change that she’d seen him, understood him, supported him. She’d given a shit, and that was worth something.
He rounded the corner and watched her walk down the hallway, taking in her long legs made even longer by the sexy black pumps she was wearing. An image of Jules walking toward him, wearing nothing but a pearl necklace and a pair of heels just like those, seared through him like a jolt of electricity, both hot and painful.
He’d gotten the news that his upcoming fight might be canceled because his opponent had been injured in training. It had been a stressful day as he’d waited to find out who would take his opponent’s place, or if the fight would still be happening at all, and when he’d come home, Jules had been in his apartment, waiting for him. She’d walked toward him, biting her lip and toying with the pearls. She’d leaned into him, brushing his ear with her lips as she spoke.
“I’m sorry about your fight. Anything I can do to make you feel better?”
He’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, his entire body waking up at the feel of her bare skin under his hands. “You already have, sweetheart.”
She’d kept the pearls and heels on for the next couple of hours, soothing him with soul-shattering sex and something else, something harder to put into words. It was the fact that she’d been there, waiting for him, knowing he’d had a tough day. The way they’d laughed together, the way she’d made him feel that no matter what happened, as long as he had her, he’d be able to conquer the world. And he’d thought she felt the same way about him.
He kept his distance, willing himself not to run down the hallway, but instead walk at a leisurely pace as he followed her to her office. Finally, after another turn, he watched her push open a door and slam it closed.
A smile crept across his face. If she was slamming doors, maybe she was affected by seeing him again.
A big maybe, but still. It was something.
He didn’t knock, just walked into her office and closed the door behind him. Jules stood with her back to him, her hands braced against her desk, her head bowed. She hadn’t heard him come in, and he took advantage of his momentary invisibility, watching her for several seconds as she stood there, her slender shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He expected to feel angry, or hurt, or even confused, but if those emotions were there, they were all being eclipsed by his satisfaction at how rattled she was, and the almost overwhelming need to wrap his arms around her.
“Jules.” His voice startled her and she let out a small shriek before whirling around, one hand clutched to her chest. He held up his hands. “Hey. It’s just me. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Her gorgeous blue eyes slammed into his and his heart beat a furious tempo in his chest.
“Jules.” He repeated her name, and she slowly lowered her hand. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced between Nick and the door, her shoulders rigid.
“What . . .” She cleared her throat and started again. “What are you doing here?”
Her tone wasn’t what he’d hoped for, and he frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I thought we should talk.”
She took a breath and paled slightly as she once again met his gaze. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He quirked his brow, tamping down the impatient anger flooding him. “How could you possibly think we have nothing to talk about?”
She shrugged, and then wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes locked on the floor. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He fought the urge to scoff. “Oh, I don’t know. ‘Hi, Nick. Nice to see you, Nick. You look great, Nick. Sorry for walking out on you, Nick.’ Any of those would be a fantastic start.”
She looked up at him, and something in her expression softened, giving him a glimpse of his Jules, the one he’d fallen for. “Hi, Nick.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up and he took a step toward her, hope slowly filtering its way through him. “Hey, Jules.” He took another step toward her, and she scurried behind her desk.
>
That small gesture, her putting her desk between them, pissed him off. She was the only woman who’d ever broken his heart, and she was looking at him as though he was the enemy here. A spark of resentful anger flared up, burning a path through the center of his chest. For several long seconds they stared at each other, and emotions, one after the other, crashed into Nick, rocking him like waves. Anger. Hurt. Sadness. Hope. Lust. All of them swirled together in a confusing eddy that threatened to drag him under. Finally, after several seconds, he managed to pull himself to the surface, to ask the question he’d wanted to ask since she’d walked out of his apartment.
“Why, Jules?”
She glanced up at him and then down at her desk, her fingers twisted together. “You know why.”
He let out a strained laugh. “No, I fucking don’t. We had a good thing. An amazing thing. And you walked. You wouldn’t even give us a chance. Tell me why.” It wasn’t a question this time, but a demand, and her head snapped up at his tone. But she didn’t say anything, just stared at him, emotions swirling in her pretty eyes.
“I’m not doing this with you, Nick.”
“I’m not leaving until you explain what happened in Chicago.” He braced his hands on her desk, leaning toward her. The scent of her skin hit him like a punch in the stomach, lavender from the pricey French lotion she loved.
Something in her expression shifted, and her mouth hardened. “We had fun. It was time for me to go. I’m sorry you got the wrong impression, but I don’t do relationships. You know that.” She sniffed and wrapped her arms stiffly around herself.
He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why would I lie?”
“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re different, Jules.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. My Jules wouldn’t lie to me like this.” He jabbed a finger into his own chest.
Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “I’m not your Jules, Nick.” She sniffed again and straightened her shoulders, her spine ramrod straight.
He stared at her for a long, hard moment, trying to figure out which Jules was the lie—this one, or the one he’d fallen for in Chicago. “No. You’re not.” He sucked in a breath, trying to force some calm into his system.
“We’ll be working together, and we need to leave the past in the past. We had fun, but Nick, that’s all it was. This is my job. Please don’t make this difficult for me.”
He felt as though his veins were filling with ice water at her words, and he forced himself to smile. “That’s all it was? Right. My mistake,” he said, his words heavy with sarcasm as he tried to hide the fresh wave of pain crashing into him.
“Please go.” Her voice was quiet as she cut her eyes from him to the door behind him.
“Fine.” He stopped halfway to the door, jamming his hands into his pockets as he turned to face her. “You know what?” Once again, her eyes met his, and he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “I thought you were the best thing that ever happened to me. But I guess I was wrong. So we can work together. We can coexist, but just know there’s a small part of me that will always hate you for the way you left.” She flinched, and although he knew he should feel bad, he didn’t, because it was the truth.
He spun and walked out of her office, pissed that even though she’d pushed him away, he still wanted her. Still cared. Furious that he’d have to see her every day, knowing what they could’ve had, and knowing she didn’t want it. Knowing she’d moved on from Chicago, and he hadn’t.
He stopped several feet down the hall and leaned against the wall, trying to figure out a way to breathe through the hurt threatening to swallow him up.
3
Chicago—One Year Ago
“She keeps looking at you.”
Nick took a sip of his beer and shot his brother an annoyed look. “Shut up, Alex.” Most likely there was some hairy, beefy dude pissed that they were taking too long at the pool table and giving them a death stare.
“I’m serious. Three o’clock.”
Unable to help himself, Nick turned toward his right, immediately locking eyes with a stunning blonde at a table about ten feet away. The corner of her mouth twitched up as her eyes held his for a second before she returned her attention to her friends. Someone at her table said something and she laughed, her nose wrinkling, her mouth open in a wide smile. She said something back, and everyone at her table laughed. Cocking her head and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she listened as one of her friends asked her a question, and then talked elaborately with her hands as she answered, her face animated.
He couldn’t seem to stop watching her. Yeah, she was hot, but there was more to it than that. She was . . . full of life. Happy. She exuded a cheerful confidence that was immediately appealing, and not just visually.
“Dude, we’re gonna lose our spot.” Alex clapped him on the shoulder, smiling, as he replaced their pool cues and started back toward their table. Finally tearing his eyes away from the woman, Nick followed, weaving through the crowd.
The Flat Iron Bar was one of their favorite hangouts—halfway between Nick’s place and Alex’s, with classic rock playing on the massive jukebox, three pool tables, and on Fridays, cheap beer. As the Rolling Stones blared through the speakers, they passed by the amply stocked bar, backlit and showcasing the hundreds of bottles displayed on a set of risers. Funky, eclectic art decorated the walls, giving the space some interesting character.
Just before they reached their table, a woman crashed right into Nick. Instinctively, he reached out his arms to steady her, even though he knew she’d run into him on purpose. She’d been watching him as he approached, her eyes roving up and down his body, and finally, as he’d neared, she’d darted out.
Her fingers flexed into his arms and she let out a little giggle. He suppressed a sigh, not at all interested. “Sorry, excuse me,” he said, gently setting her aside and continuing to his table, sitting down across from Alex and taking another sip of his beer. A drop of condensation cascaded down the bottle and over his knuckles, still aching from his training session earlier that day. He settled back in his seat, soaking up the atmosphere. Around him, people laughed, talked, kissed, a happiness permeating the air. But even though it was all around him, he wasn’t part of it.
Which was a stupid way to feel. His MMA career had taken off, he had friends, his family, a full life. But he was greedy, apparently, because that wasn’t enough for him.
“Ma says you convinced Dad to go to the doctor?” Alex studied him over his beer bottle, his eyebrows raised in question.
Nick nodded. “Yeah. He’s got an appointment next week.” Their father was smart, hardworking, and stubborn as a fucking mule, and even though he’d been short of breath and having some mild chest pains for weeks, he refused to go to the doctor, simply shrugging it off with a “I’m getting old, Nico, what you gonna do?”
“What did that cost you?” asked Alex.
“I promised I’d ask his friend Costa’s daughter out on a date.”
“Ouch. Man drives a hard bargain.”
Nick shrugged. “It’s just a date.”
The woman who’d run into him a few minutes earlier brushed by their table, but Nick barely glanced at her. Sure, she was cute. And she was clearly interested. But after a recent string of bad dates, he’d learned that he was looking for something more than cute. He wanted something real. And the whole giggling, muscle-squeezing thing? That wasn’t it.
He wasn’t going to find something meaningful with someone who started off playing games, who didn’t just start with a simple—
“Hi.”
He spun around in his seat, almost spilling his beer.
It was her. The woman from across the bar. But she wasn’t across the bar anymore. No, she was standing only a couple of feet away f
rom him, a friendly smile on her pretty face. Up close, he could tell her eyes were light, maybe blue or green, and a dusting of freckles dotted the bridge of her nose and her cheeks.
“Hey,” he said, refusing to react when Alex kicked him under the table.
She gestured toward the pool tables. “I saw you playing earlier. You’re really good.”
He smiled and raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “I think ‘really good’ is an extremely generous assessment, but I’ll take it.”
She laughed, two pink spots appearing on the apples of her cheeks. “Would you show me? How to play, I mean? I’ve always wanted to learn, and you seemed to know what you were doing.” Before he could answer, she glanced between him and his brother. “Unless I’m intruding. I don’t want to disrupt your night.”
“We could always make it a threesome,” said Alex, and Nick kicked him, hard, under the table.
She laughed and took a step closer. “Oh, muffin. You shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew.”
Nick rose to his feet, loving the way she didn’t take his brother’s shit. He held out his hand. “I’m Nick.”
She shook it, her skin warm against his, her smile hitting him right in the gut. “Jules.”
An hour and a couple games of pool later, Nick knew that her line about wanting to learn to play pool hadn’t been a line at all. She was terrible, and if she was faking it, she deserved an Oscar.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so attracted to a woman. He’d barely been able to string two coherent sentences together, instead getting caught up in watching her—the graceful line of her shoulders, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she concentrated, the way her face lit up when she actually sank a ball.
Maybe she wasn’t terrible at all. Maybe he was just a terrible teacher, because he was drooling all over her. Every time she brushed by him as she crossed from one side of the table to another, his skin practically vibrated, the hairs on his forearms standing at attention. Everything about her—the way her fine hair hung in a golden sheet around her shoulders, the easy confidence with which she moved, the warm, sweet smell of her skin, the sound of her laugh—had him wanting more. So much more.