She took a sip of her own wine and shook her head slowly. “No, it’s not. It’s petty.”
He studied her over the rim of his glass. “Well, either way, it’s completely unnecessary.”
She let out a little laugh. “I’m not sure if you know this, but you’re a very good-looking man.”
“This might not be news to me.”
She laughed. “And I can be . . . territorial.” She met his eyes. “Especially when it comes to you.”
“I promise, you have nothing to worry about. It was one date, and we parted friends, nothing more.”
She took a sip of wine and nodded. “Okay. I can handle that.” She met his eyes. “Although I have to admit, I’m glad you didn’t sleep with her.”
They settled back into their meal, talking about their lives over the past year. Their families. He told her about his father’s heart problems. How focused he was on his training. They talked about her work. The big things and the small things, wanting to share it all.
About halfway through the meal, a comfortable silence fell between them, and their eyes met. As though it were preplanned, they smiled in unison, something beyond the need for words passing between them.
“Are you free on Friday night?” she asked, spearing the last of her souvlaki onto her fork.
“For you, I’m always free.”
She smiled at him with so much warmth and goodness that he felt it like sunshine. “Do you maybe want to meet my best friend, Megan? We could have dinner.”
She’d mentioned Megan a couple of times, but the fact that she wanted him to meet her was a new step. A good step. She was letting him into her world, and damn, that was satisfying.
He took her hand and laced their fingers together, tracing his thumb over her knuckles. “That sounds great.”
She smiled again and rose from the table, coming around behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She trailed her lips over his neck. “Mmm. Time for dessert?”
He turned and caught her lips with his. “You read my mind.” Before she could move, he rose and slung her over his shoulder, her laughter filling his ears as he marched them both into his bedroom.
A jazz quartet played an understated melody that floated from the main dining room. It was soft enough to allow for conversation while still giving the restaurant a pleasant, upscale ambience. Megan had suggested the off-Strip restaurant that the menu proclaimed an “Old Vegas favorite.” Black-and-white photos of Hollywood legends graced the exposed-brick walls, while flickering candles and white tablecloths lent the place an aura of elegance.
Jules settled back into the soft brown leather of the half-circle booth, a giant smile curving her lips as she listened to Nick and Megan talk. They sat on either side of her, facing each other. Nick’s longish hair was tucked back behind his ear, and he wore a navy button-down shirt that emphasized his broad chest and shoulders.
“The main thing that separates MMA from other combat sports is that there are several basic disciplines, and each fighter uses a combination of all of them. Striking, submission, and wrestling.” Nick ticked them off on his fingers as he pushed the plate bearing the remnants of his Chilean sea bass to the side. “And even those are multidisciplinary. For example, striking incorporates techniques like Muay Thai and boxing.”
“Karate?” Megan asked, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and her fingers around the stem of her wineglass, her half-finished steak salad forgotten.
“Yeah, exactly.” Nick nodded.
“Then what’s the difference between submission and wrestling?”
Nick smiled, clearly pleased to find an eager audience for one of his favorite subjects. “Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is about submission. You try to choke out your opponent or get them in a hold that’s painful enough that it makes them tap, often by trapping their arm or leg. You can even win on your back if your technique is good enough. Wrestling, though, is all about staying off your back, but it’s useful for take downs, which can lead to a submission. If you want to be successful, you can’t just rely on one or the other. You have to master both, and know when to use them in a fight.”
Megan asked some follow-up questions while Jules debated pinching herself because the night was going so well. Really well. They’d spent the first part of the meal talking about how she and Megan had met at boarding school. Megan had gone into some of their more hilarious—and at times disastrous—attempts to sneak off campus. There’d been absolutely no awkwardness between Megan and Nick, not that she’d expected any. She simply hadn’t realized how tense she’d been about them meeting. The fact that the two people she’d picked to be in her life were hitting it off meant . . . well, it meant everything. It meant happiness and acceptance and about a million other good things. Things she wasn’t used to but that were wholly, entirely welcome.
A fuzzy feeling of contentment spread through her as she watched them. She’d spent about a minute worrying that someone might see her with Nick, but then she’d decided she didn’t care. They’d try to be discreet for now—they’d stay away from some of the more popular spots around town and no personal stuff at work—but they wouldn’t hide from the world. She couldn’t wait for the day when everyone knew that Nick was hers and she was his. It was torture to not talk about him all day to anyone who would listen.
Nick had moved on from mechanics to the reigning champions of the WFC, and their strengths and weaknesses. Jules could almost see Megan’s mind churning as she asked questions, working to turn this information into a potential article.
And that’s when it hit her. This was her family. This was what a family dinner was supposed to be. People talking to each other about their experiences, their fears, and their dreams. It wasn’t supposed to be bitter accusations, arguments, and awkward silences like she’d grown up with.
Needing some contact with him, she reached for Nick’s thigh under the table. He glanced at her and smiled as he laced his fingers with hers and gave her hand a squeeze. Emotion welled up in her chest. Happiness and a strange and bitter sadness all tangled up together. The sadness was because of all the time they’d wasted apart, and she forced down that negativity, stomping on it with every ounce of strength she could muster. There was only room for happiness and the future now. Pretty soon all the new, good memories would outweigh the bad ones and make it easier to forget the past.
“Is your brother a fighter too?” Megan asked.
Nick shook his head. “We trained together a little back in college when I first started in the sport, but it wasn’t for him.”
“He’s cute and I think he’s still single, if you’re interested,” Jules said, wiggling her eyebrows as she shot Megan a smile.
Nick laughed and Megan grinned. “I can find my own dates, thank you very much.”
The waiter came to top off their wineglasses and offer them a dessert menu, taking their plates away when he left. An easy silence fell over the table as they studied the menu, but Jules had already planned to forgo anything sweet. Nick was watching everything he ate—he’d even opted for water instead of wine with dinner—to cut weight for the tournament, and she didn’t want to tempt him with anything. She figured it was the least she could do to throw her support his way.
But the second his fight was over? Chocolate cake was totally happening.
“You two look really good together.” Megan sipped her wine as she sat back to study them. “Happy.”
A blush warmed Jules’ cheeks as she met Nick’s gaze over the menu. He gave her a lopsided smile and squeezed her hand again, his palm warm and reassuring against hers. “We are happy,” he said.
They were. In the short time they’d been together, everything had been perfect. All the mind-blowing orgasms she could handle with a man who rubbed her feet at night. She was still unsure what would happen with them professionally, but she pushed those fears aside because she knew
they’d face it together.
“By the way, Jules, I’ve been meaning to ask you how your mom’s doing,” Megan said.
Jules’ shoulders stiffened and she glanced at Nick. “Uh, she’s fine.”
“Is there something going on with your mom?” Nick’s tone wasn’t accusatory, but there was a tiny glimmer of pain in his dark eyes.
Jules realized then that she hadn’t mentioned her mother’s most recent rehab stint to him. She’d called her mom yesterday after work to check in with her while she’d driven to Nick’s apartment. By the time she’d gotten there, she’d been so happy to see him that the conversation had slipped into the dark recesses of her mind. She shoved them in there because those conversations were too painful to deal with. They made her feel awkward and inadequate in a way she’d never been able to fully examine in the light of day. In that moment, she realized that she’d been carrying around her mom’s failure to stay sober as if it were her own. Jules couldn’t solve her mom’s problems, so she felt that she should shoulder some of the blame.
Maybe not sharing that burden with Nick had been her way of hiding how inadequate she felt. Or maybe it was just that she was being Craig Darcy’s daughter again. Never let them see you hurt. Never let anyone in.
Megan grimaced and took a small sip of her wine.
“She’s been in rehab recently. I should’ve mentioned something. I’ll work on that.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back, bringing their hands up to place a kiss on hers. And just that quickly the tiny glimmer of pain was gone.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his face sympathetic.
Megan had looked away, but she was discreetly smiling with approval. The conversation moved on to the tournament. Nick’s family was planning to come, and Jules couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about that. Her family was such a mess and his was so loving and normal. She wondered if they’d be disappointed that he’d settled for her, and if Alex would forgive her for how she’d left his brother. She had no doubt that Nick had shared the details with him. But then Nick smiled at her again, and she thought it might be okay.
Maybe, if she was good enough, everything really could be okay.
After the check was taken care of, they walked Megan to her car and said good-bye in the dimly lit parking lot, and then walked hand in hand to Nick’s car. Instead of opening the door for her as usual, he gave her hand a tug, pulling her around to face him.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” His lighthearted mood had disappeared beneath a furrowed brow.
So she had hurt him. “Is this about my mom?”
“Yeah. Your mom, your dad.” His hands dropped to her hips and his gaze met hers as he pulled her close. “Anything.”
A shiver of pleasure moved down her spine. The heat from his body warmed her front and her palms roved up over his hard chest to rest on his shoulders. She still had trouble believing that he was hers. She only wished she could figure out how to stop hurting him. “I know that, Nick. It’s not you. It’s me. Everything in my life is so messy, sometimes I feel like I want to . . . to protect you from it.”
He laughed and pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t need you to protect me from anything. I can handle it. Promise.”
Taking in a deep breath, she threaded her fingers through his thick hair and closed her eyes. “I know.” If she were honest, there was a healthy dose of self-preservation in the way she kept things to herself. If he didn’t know all the bad things about her life, then maybe he’d keep thinking she was good enough. “Maybe I do it to protect me too. So I don’t scare you off with all my baggage.”
“Jules, sweetheart, look at me.” When his fingers pushed the hair from her face and cupped her jaw, she opened her eyes. “One of the things I love about you is how strong and resilient you are. But you don’t have to handle everything on your own anymore. I’m here. You won’t scare me off.”
She gasped, sure her heart stopped beating for a solid minute while she processed what he’d said. He probably didn’t mean it like she wanted, but she hoped he did. As much as she’d run from the very idea of love, she wanted his love with everything she had. “I know you’re here. I’ve been alone so long, sometimes I forget.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up in a half smile and he wrapped his arms around her. “You’re not alone anymore, Jules. I’ve got you.”
She couldn’t explain why her eyes filled with tears or why a lump formed in her throat. Why was she crying when she’d gotten exactly what she’d wished for? It took her fumbling brain a second to catch up with her heart, and she realized that they were happy tears. She’d been slow to recognize them because she’d rarely had occasion for them before Nick. He was here and she wasn’t alone anymore. Whatever happened, she could trust him to help her through it.
Because she couldn’t speak, she kissed him. He groaned and pulled her tight against him, kissing her back and dropping his hands to her ass to pull her closer.
“I’ve got you,” he said again, his voice husky against her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his face in her neck and trailed soft, gentle kisses over her skin. He was hard against her belly and suddenly all she wanted to do was spend the weekend in bed with him, showing him how much she loved him.
And she could, because he was hers. Just like she was his.
16
The large conference room in the MGM Grand buzzed with the energy of over a thousand fans who’d turned out for the first WFC Fan Appreciation Day. Two hours into the event and Jules was ready to call it a success. People streamed through the rows of tables where nearly fifty fighters signed posters and posed for photos. Music played in the background, and a big screen on the wall at the far end of the room played a highlight reel of recent fights.
Jules’ dad had just announced that the first live fighting demo was about to start in the next room, so many of the fans began to head off in that direction. But the die-hard fans were still lined up twenty deep to meet the champions who were sitting up on a stage in front of the big screen. From her vantage point on the side of the stage, she could see that across the room Nick still had a queue of his own. A bubble of pride swelled in her chest as she watched him arm wrestle a ten-year-old girl and lose, shaking his arm as if she’d put up a tough fight.
“Dad?” She waited for him to hand the microphone to the A/V guy and turn back around. “I don’t know if you noticed, but Nick still has a fairly long line, and most of them are wearing his shirt from Imperial,” she said, nodding toward Nick’s line of fans.
“Yeah?” It was more of a grunt than a distinct word and his mouth turned up at the corner in distaste. She only barely managed not to roll her eyes. He’d been irritable and short with everyone all day. For a guy who was seeing his dream of the WFC making it to the next level come true, he was behaving like an ass. She should’ve known better than to talk to him about Nick, but she charged ahead anyway.
“That proves you were right. His fans followed him to the WFC like you wanted.” Her dad hadn’t said one kind word about Nick’s performance in the commercial they’d produced, though he had told Jules he liked the ad, and he’d said the giant billboard with Nick’s face above the WFC building was “a good idea,” but he’d yet to thank Nick for his help. It was as if he refused to acknowledge Nick’s contributions to the success of the league. As much as she hated keeping her relationship with Nick a secret—and it had been so much harder than she’d thought—they had no choice. She’d hoped that given a little time, she’d be able to convince her dad that Nick was a great guy. Then she could gently broach the subject of the nonfraternization clause. But it was becoming clear that nothing Nick did would be good enough for her dad. Bringing up their relationship now would only give her dad another reason to dislike him, while ending Nick’s chances of winning the tournament.
So they were stuck sneaking around like teenager
s.
He nodded before completely changing the subject. “Maddox is up first with the demo, but make sure Johnson and Oliveira are ready to go. Everyone wants to see the new guy in action. I still can’t believe the signing bonus Oliveira talked us into. And it’s not like he needs the money. Christ.”
“Already on it.” She nodded to where the intern she’d snagged from the University of Nevada was leaning over to tell Colby Johnson, the bantamweight champion, that he was up in twenty minutes.
“Thanks, Julian,” her dad called as he rushed off to the demo room to officially announce Maddox to the crowd.
Jules sighed and figured she was lucky that he’d at least tossed a thanks in her direction. With the way her day had been going, she needed it. Though everything seemed to be running smoothly now, her morning had been one catastrophe short of a disaster. The audio hadn’t been working and it had taken two hours to fix the wiring issue. Two of the screens the venue had provided had been ripped. Luckily they’d found a spare, but the other had been taped up with duct tape from the back, and she hoped the fans were too awestruck by the fighters to notice. Then her intern had forgotten to bring the flyers for the heavyweights, so after getting chewed out by her dad, she’d had to make a last-minute dash back to the office to find them. The day wasn’t even half over and her feet hurt, she had dust on her skirt, she’d scraped her hands moving all those boxes by herself, and she could feel the beginnings of a tension headache.
Her gaze drifted back over to Nick, who was now shadowboxing with a group of boys. He feinted left and then right, pretending to dodge their punches, but then stumbled back as if one had gotten him on the chin. She covered a laugh with her hand at his overly dramatic expression. Acting was not one of his talents, but the boys howled with laughter.
As she watched him with them, she realized he’d make a good father one day.
Whoa! Where had that come from? She could almost hear the record scratch of her thoughts clumsily stopping and then restarting. God, did she even want kids? And what about marriage? She’d never seriously considered either one because she’d never thought she’d find anyone who’d make risking her heart worth it. For the first time ever, she thought maybe she could see that future for herself. A wedding with a pretty white dress and flowers. Kids and dinner around the kitchen table.
Dirty Boxing Page 16