Down for the Count (Dare Me 1)

by Christine Bell

  He smirked and flicked a lighting-fast hand out, snapping said towel at her bare toes.

  “Hey!” she squealed and jumped back.

  “Don’t take that bossy tone with me. I’m telling you right now, I’m going to leave stuff everywhere. Toilet seat up, towels on the floor, cap off the milk.” He tugged his T-shirt over his head and dropped in on the floor. “We need to break you of this control freakiness, and this is the perfect time to learn how to go with the flow and just let things happen.”

  Inexplicably, his harmless words felt as weighty as the pressure in her belly. She tried not to stare at him but failed miserably. His board shorts hung low, clinging to his lean hips. She helplessly followed the trail of hair leading from his navel downward…

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you never saw a half-naked man before, squirt.” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper, and even the childish nickname felt like a caress.

  “I have,” she protested and took another step back. “Plenty of times.” Okay, she might have exaggerated a bit, but he didn’t need to know that. “You have to admit, though, you’re bigger than most.”

  “Well, I appreciate that, darlin’. You know exactly what to say to a man, don’t you?” He flicked her nose with the tip of his finger and chuckled when she flushed.

  “I didn’t mean that.” She gestured to his general groin area in a circular motion and that only made him laugh harder. “You’re such a guy sometimes,” she said with a snort of disgust. “I meant, big like tall and…beefy.”

  “I guess that’s better than being doughy or fragile, so I’m going to go out on a limb and take that as a compliment.”

  “You do that.” The sparring between them felt so strange with the addition of this new sexual tension. Like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole or, more likely, into one of the decade’s worth of fantasies she had stored up. She crossed the room, waiting for the bathroom door to close so she could breathe again, but felt the heat of his gaze trailing her.

  “By the way.” His voice had dropped low again, the silky, intimate tone sending her pulse careening. “I like your dress.”

  “Uh, thanks. I g-got it at Target.” Oh, yeah. Very smooth. But still, she couldn’t stop the flow. “My mom hates when I shop there. She says it’s for poor people.”

  Perfection. She must have picked up that tidbit in some trendy women’s magazine. If a super-hot guy compliments you, make sure to bring up your mom. And if you can squeeze in a comment about her elitist views, even better.

  To Galen’s credit, he only smiled.

  “Hurry up and take your shower. I’m starved.”

  .

  Half an hour later they were strolling down Los Rosales Street in search of food. It was a good thing, too, because sharing close quarters with him was getting to be an issue. She must have been crazy to agree to spending the next two weeks with him.

  “That place looks good,” he said, pointing to a terra-cotta building dripping in exotic blooms. The elegant sign above the lanai read FLORES, which was fitting. As they approached, a nattily dressed waiter strode by carrying a heaping plate of lobster, orangey-pink and glistening with butter.

  She eyed the tray longingly then gave a regretful shake of her head. “We can’t. My dress is too casual for a place like this, and you’d probably need a jacket or at least pants.”

  “We won’t know unless we try. What’s the worst thing they can do? Say we can’t go in?”

  His nonchalance baffled her. It would be mortifying to get turned away. People would probably stare, and the host would think they were a couple of idiots. “I’ll pass. The bistro across the street is fine.”

  He took her wrist and stopped her on the sidewalk. “I thought this was going to be the era of pushing boundaries for you? Now you won’t even go to the restaurant where you want to eat? What a chicken.”

  Her stomach growled at the mention of poultry and Galen sent her a wicked grin. She gnawed on her bottom lip, trying to work up the nerve to go up to the desk, but really, what was the point? They had a lot of time. They could dress appropriately tomorrow and eat there without causing waves. She was all for change, but probably baby steps were better.

  “I’d rather go another night,” she said primly.

  Was it her imagination, or did he look slightly disappointed in her? She refused to explore why the thought bothered her and instead led him toward the bistro.

  A few minutes later, they stood by the outdoor bar less than fifty yards from the ocean. The room was long and narrow, with seating designed to take advantage of as much beachfront space as possible. Tables flanked the railing, offering both a breeze and a view, or with a few steps down, patrons could sit at a table in the sand if they chose.

  A waitress bustled by with what looked like a mouthwatering plate of shrimp and Lacey grinned. “Nice place.”

  He nodded. “But don’t let the fact that it worked out well this time go to your head. It’s always better to take a chance than to be left doing the safe thing and wondering what you’re missing. I bet that lobster was fantastic.” His tone was teasing but she knew he was only half kidding, just as she knew he was right.

  “It’s been one day. I’m a work in progress. Don’t forget, half of Condado Beach saw my boobs earlier, so I need some recovery time.”

  She climbed onto a stool, and once she was seated, he did the same. The bartender came over and set menus in front of them. “What can I get you to drink?” he asked with a thick accent. She responded in her high school Spanish, and the waiter grinned.

  “What did you order?” Galen asked.

  “A cubre libre sans the rum.”

  He chuckled. “So, a Coke?”

  “Yeah. With a lime.” He clucked his tongue disapprovingly and she gave him a light shove on the shoulder. “Don’t be a bad influence. I may be sitting at the bar, but there is no way I’m drinking after yesterday. Not tonight. In fact, maybe not ever again.”

  Low, husky laughter met her pronouncement. She and Galen both turned toward the source. A beautiful woman with a pin-straight fall of ebony hair sat a few stools down from them.

  “Oh man, I’ve been there before,” the woman said. She was a stunner, with catlike eyes so dark they were almost black. Her sun-kissed skin suggested she’d been in San Juan for a while, although her New England accent indicated that she wasn’t a native.

  The handsome sandy-haired man with her nodded more enthusiastically than she must have liked, because she gave him a playful swat on the arm. “What?” he protested. “I’m not the one who tells you to mix like that. You’re drinking wine, you drink wine. You don’t then have a beer and then a mixed drink. Am I right?” This he aimed at Galen, who held up both hands.

  “Whoa, no comment. I don’t get involved in domestic disputes like this, especially when she’s clearly violent.”

  The couple laughed, and Lacey felt a spurt of envy at Galen’s comfort level with strangers. While she’d always been polite, there was a natural banter that his laid-back presence seemed to inspire in spite of his intimidating size. She liked people, but anxiety held her back from making friends very easily. Actually, now that she thought about it, she’d had the same few friends since childhood. Even then it had been the result of another person befriending her, not the other way around.

  Cat had instigated their friendship. She’d taken Lacey’s Twinkie and pronounced, “We’re gonna be bestest friends, you and me.” In spite of Lacey’s reserved reaction—she was pretty sure she’d shrugged helplessly—deep down, she had been thrilled to bits. Over the moon that this crazy little girl with hair the shade of a new penny, who used her outside voice all the time, would want to be friends with a boring nobody like her.

  The man’s smooth alto brought her back to the present. “I’m Cyrus, and this is my fiancée, Nikki. So where you guys from?”

  “Rhode Island. You?”

  “Connecticut.”

  A long silence ensued, during which Nik
ki and her man exchanged a glance. “Would you like to join us?” he asked, finally gesturing to the four-top table behind them.

  Lacey tamped down the familiar swirl of nervousness and nodded. Dinner with exotic strangers. “That sounds like fun.” She couldn’t squelch the little rush of delight that swept through her when Galen tipped his head in approval.

  At the suggestion of their waiter, she and Cyrus ordered the pork mofongo while Nikki and Galen opted for the catch of the day. Conversation flowed easily, and by the time their meals were served, Lacey felt at ease.

  “This is unreal,” murmured Galen around a mouthful of grilled red snapper.

  He and Lacey ended up passing their plates back and forth for tasting, and Lacey agreed wholeheartedly. The native spices were new to her and sent her senses into overdrive in the best way. She scraped the last remnants of tender roasted meat from her plate and sighed with regret. “Just perfect.”

  “I tell you, we haven’t had a bad meal since we got here,” Cyrus said, pushing his almost empty plate away with a groan. “It’s only all the walking that’s kept me from packing on the pounds.”

  “Well if that works, I guess that means we can have dessert. Prepare for a marathon tomorrow, Galen.”

  He turned a lazy, half-lidded gaze toward her. “Dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here as it is. I haven’t eaten like this in eight months.”

  Cyrus raised a questioning brow.

  “Galen is a boxer. He just came off a fight in Atlantic City. It’s months of intense training and piles of chicken breast,” Lacey confided.

  “Ooh, how exciting,” Nikki said, eyeing Galen speculatively. “So did you win?”

  “He did,” Lacey said, pride swelling in her chest. “Knockout in the fifth.” It had been a real nail-biter up to that point, and she had spent the majority of the fight pacing in front of the TV. In fact, Marty had snapped at her because she was distracting him from his word puzzle.

  “Shit, man, I recognize you now,” Cyrus said. “Whalin’ Galen Thomas! That’s very cool. I don’t get the chance to watch too much boxing, but you held the heavyweight belt for a while, didn’t you?”

  Galen didn’t answer, instead raising his brows at Lacey in a clear challenge. She flushed. “He did. From summer of 2009 until mid-2010 when Manny Hermosa stole it in a controversial split decision.”

  His slow grin melted her insides like butter in the sun. She cleared her throat. “So, uh, hopefully he’ll get it back before he retires.” Although her gaze was on Cyrus, she could feel Galen’s stare.

  “I’m impressed,” Galen murmured.

  “I like boxing,” she said, her cheeks burning. “So what do you do for work, Nikki?” she asked, desperately hoping for a change of subject, which Nikki warmed to quickly. She talked about her job in advertising, which she joked was at least as bloody as boxing, but Galen’s gaze stayed locked on Lacey, and she struggled to keep from squirming under the weight of it.

  Today marked the first time she’d ever admitted that she’d followed his career. Closely. She and Cat had spoken of it in passing, and she’d gone to a couple of the parties the Thomases had hosted on fight nights. Marty had been in the apartment when she’d watched the most recent one, but no one else knew her secret. She hadn’t only watched his fights; she’d studied them. In fact, she had an entire collection of DVDs full of every televised matchup he’d ever had.

  She always figured, if anyone found out, she could rationalize it with a response like, Hey, if you went to high school with Britney Spears, you’d buy her albums. But that wasn’t it at all. It was an opportunity to watch him in his element without him seeing the truth on her face.

  She was crazy about him.

  “What about you, Lacey?” Nikki asked.

  “I work for my family’s law firm as the marketing director.”

  “Wow, big job. Do you enjoy it?”

  She opened her mouth to give her standard affirmative reply but stopped short. Did she enjoy it? She considered the question carefully. More than some things. Like jury duty and going to the gynecologist. But it wasn’t as much fun as, say, karaoke or taking in an action flick on a rainy Saturday afternoon. That’s what a job was, though, right? It wasn’t called happy fun play time. It was called work.

  “It’s fine, as jobs go,” she hedged. “It was a given that I would join the firm, and I really don’t have the heart for criminal law, so it seemed like a good compromise.”

  Cyrus nodded. “That’s how I feel. I work in finance, and it pays the bills, but it’s nothing to write home about. My free time is when I loosen up and enjoy life.” He leaned closer to his bride-to-be and squeezed her thigh. “Speaking of which, I know you said you’re never drinking again, but we have mojito makings and an awesome patio back at our place. Hot tub, pool, the whole nine. It’s a gorgeous night, so why don’t you guys come with us and hang out a while? It’s only half a mile down the beach. We can walk off some of this food.”

  His gaze lingered on Lacey for a long moment, and she got a weird whiff of attraction coming from him. Surely she was mistaken. A handsome guy like Cyrus with a beautiful fiancée like Nikki wouldn’t be checking out a seven like Lacey, would he? The moment passed so quickly, she was sure she’d imagined it.

  “What do you think?” Galen asked.

  She shrugged. It was a beautiful night, and she didn’t relish the thought of going back to their villa yet. Better to keep busy rather than stew over her wedding day debacle.

  “Well, I guess I could have one mojito, but then definitely no dessert,” Lacey said.

  “You guys get the check while me and Lacey powder our noses,” Nikki said, before planting a smacking kiss on Cyrus’s cheek.

  Lacey hesitated. The other couple had assumed she and Galen were an item, and it had seemed less important to correct them than it had to avoid putting a label on what they were, so neither of them had objected. Now, though, sticking Galen with the check felt crummy. He noted her hesitation and made an are you kidding me face, shooing her away with a wave of his hand. Both of them were comfortable financially, and a meal certainly wasn’t going to break the bank. She vowed to pick up the next one and trailed behind Nikki to the ladies room.

  “I’m so glad we met. We still have another week, and as much as I love being with Cyrus, all this one-on-one togetherness was driving us both a little mad,” Nikki confided as she rifled through her bright green crocheted bag. “I confess, an hour into meeting you guys, I was fantasizing about tearing you away from that hunk of yours so we could engage in some retail therapy. Maybe mani pedis?”

  Lacey wasn’t sure how to respond. It sounded like fun, but could she really go hang out with someone she’d just met? What if Nikki spent an hour with her and realized how dorky she was and regretted it? Or maybe she was like Cat and would appreciate having a dorky friend. Still, she hesitated.

  Nikki held up a hand. “No pressure. Just, after a few days, you might be bored, too, you know?”

  Lacey wanted to reassure her, but what could she say without sounding like a lame ass? I’d love to go shopping with you but, boo hoo, I don’t make friends very easily so this is weird for me. No, that would be the old Lacey who hung around guys like Marty. She was with Galen. Well, maybe not with him, with him, but…

  She opted to play it cool. “Yeah, I totally agree on the too-much-one-on-one-togetherness thing. Major snoozeville. I’m definitely up for shopping at some point, so count me in.”

  Nikki flashed a big grin. “Fab.” She went to dab some coral gloss onto her lips but hesitated. Eyeing Lacey in the mirror, she said, “I kinda had a feeling about you. About the two of you.”

  Lacey tried not to fidget under her intense stare. Great. She already suspected that she and Galen weren’t a couple. It shouldn’t bother her. Heck, anyone could see they were a mismatch. She didn’t have any illusions about herself. She was reasonably attractive but Galen? Galen was sex on a plate, extra spicy. Now that the jig was up,
there was no point in pretending, but it stung a little. “Obvious, huh?”

  Nikki smiled and popped her brows. “I had a hunch. Full swap?” She held the pot of her lip gloss aloft.

  Lacey eyed the gloss in Nikki’s hand, then down at her own and shrugged. What the hell? The color would look great with her dress, and new Lacey wouldn’t even think about the germs. “Sure.” She handed over her pink passion and plucked the coral color from Nikki’s fingers.

  “Cool.” Nikki grinned and dabbed some of Lacey’s gloss onto her full lips. “Ready?”

  Lacey applied the other woman’s gloss and nodded with relief. “Yep.”

  “Ooh, that color looks super sexy on you! You can keep it.” She gave Lacey a broad wink and Lacey winked back. Seemed like Nikki wasn’t going to press for details about her and Galen’s relationship, which was fine by her.

  Nikki snapped her purse closed and linked her arm through Lacey’s. “Let’s go get ’em.”

  She was so…so hip and seemed so together that even if it was for a couple short weeks, why couldn’t Lacey pretend she was one of the cool crowd? The past twenty-four hours had been filled with bikinis, worldly new friends, and the risk of herpes simplex B. If that wasn’t living on the edge, she didn’t know what was. Why, if Cat were there, she would’ve been cheering her on with two-fingered whistles and foot stomps.

  She donned the most go-with-the-flow, cool expression she could muster and nodded. “Yeah, let’s skedaddle.”

  …

  Lacey Garrity had watched all of his fights. Not just watched, judging by her in-depth recollections, but studied. It humbled him, and he was buoyed by the revelation. He didn’t want to read into it too much, but maybe she’d been harboring a little crush on him at some point that had gotten her interested in his boxing. When they were younger, a few times he’d caught her looking at him when she thought he didn’t see, but he’d taken it as nothing more than girlish curiosity in the physique of a growing boy. Now he wondered if it had been more than that, and what things might have been like for them if he’d known sooner and had acted on it. Maybe she never would’ve married that asshole Marty, and they could’ve had a shot at something. But that ship had sailed.