“No worries there.”
Paul raises his half empty beer mug in the air, and I clank my shot glass against it before bringing it to my lips and draining it.
“Well, look at us,” he tells me. “Out already. Can I get you another one?”
“I need to pace myself. But you go ahead. And don’t worry about me. Please. A lot of people are damn glad you’re home and want to see you. Go make the rounds. Enjoy. It is your party.”
“Thanks. But I am going to send over another round. If you don’t want to drink it, just sit and stare at it.”
I laugh. “Will do.”
Paul nods and walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and sins.
Tim and I had met when he’d covered the ER during his last year of surgical residency. Back then, he was funny, smart, likeable. I’d thought I’d found the One.
But then things had changed.
He came from a modest background and when he was offered a permanent job as a general surgeon, he’d become arrogant and superior at work. In no time at all, Tim had earned a reputation among the nurses as a major pain the ass, which put me in an awkward position personally and professionally.
“Hey, what’s up, karate-kid Barbie?” Tim asks as he plunks his ass down on the opposite side of the slender bar table.
Fuck off. It takes all my self-control not to say the words out loud. “Tim,” I manage
instead.
“Damn, Louise. You look great. I forgot how fine you were without scrubs or workout clothes. Which seemed to be all you wore when we were together.”
“Still hating on people who used to like you?” I sigh. “Why don’t you go do whatever it is you planned on doing when you decided to come here tonight?” Where the hell is that whiskey Paul promised to send over?
“Zoe asked me to come.”
“And judging by her cluelessness, she’s unaware of your popularity issues?” I shake my head. “She deserved a head’s up from you.”
“Zoe’ll be fine.” That arrogant dismissiveness rears its ugly head. “Besides, I’m doing what I came here to do. Which was talk to you.”
“If you left something at my apartment, I can’t help you with that.” My laughter is not pleasant. “We have nothing to say to each other. Please go away.”
Tim ignores me and changes the subject. “I’m surprised that you didn’t move back to Indiana after we broke up.”
“Well, that’s on you.” Goddamn it, I shouldn’t let him draw me into a conversation, but I’m too pissed off to shut up. “I always wanted to work in a big city ER. With or without you, that never changed.”
“I guess not.” He props his elbow onto the table and rests his chin in his hand. “You know when we met, you were the prettiest woman I’d ever seen. Still are.”
“Fuck you, Tim.” My voice is clear and calm. “You wanted to see other people. Go have fun.”
“Wait.” His voice cracks and for a moment, he sounds like the man I fell so hard for. “I underestimated you. And I regret that.”
“Is that an apology? From Tim Mazure?” I shudder, remembering how many times I tried that last name on for size. “Hell must be freezing over.”
“Call it whatever you want.” He reaches over the table and grabs my hand. “Go ahead and bust me up if you need to. I know I’ve got it coming. Whatever. But I want you back, Louise.”
Aside from my screech of disbelief, I’m speechless.
“Have you lost your mind?” I choke on my reply. The thought of being with him again makes my skin crawl.
“Of course not.” He seems surprised at my objection. “What’s the problem?”
“For starters, what about Zoe?” I ask. “Not only is she sweet, she seems to like you.”
“She’ll get over it.” Tim shrugs. “She’s young.”
“Like I was when we met?”
“You’re still young enough.”
“There he is again. The total asshole that now inhabits the body of Tim Mazure. You…are a first-class prick,” I tell him between clenched teeth.
“What?” His eyes bulge with fury as he spits out the question.
“Goodbye, Tim.” I stand to leave, but he tightens his grip on my arm.
“Calm down,” he warns me.
“You need to let go. Right. Now.”
“Just—”
Too late.
I twist my arm against his hand, while drawing my elbow toward me like a lever. Nobody’s thumb is that strong. I free myself easily from Tim’s grasp. He’s not so lucky.
Once my hand is free, I grab his arm, and force his elbow to twist in the opposite direction. Since I’m standing over him, his other arm is too far away to be useful.
“Goddamn it, Louise. Let go.” He tries to sound calm, but can’t keep the fury from his tone.
“Kind of annoying when someone asks you let go and they don’t, isn’t? You know, if I twist just a little harder I can plant you flat on the floor.” I torque his wrist and push his elbow to make my point. “Instead, I’m going to let go, and you’re going to get the hell out of here. Got it?”
“You heard her,” Usalv warns him from over my shoulder. “Get the hell out of my seat.”
20
I wrap my fingers into a fist on the tabletop between them. At first glance, it looks like Louise is holding his hand, whispering to the guy sitting down. He looks calm, but that’s only because she’s got physical control of his arm.
“I’m not fucking around.”
“Fine.” He looks up at me, then back at Louise. “Let go.”
Louise looks up at me, then slowly releases the douche’s arm. As she does, I crowd into his space in case he tries anything else.
“Relax” he tells me before shaking out his shoulder. “Louise and I are old friends. You know?”
“Sure you are.” My voice drips with disbelief, but Louise’s disgusted eye roll confirms his claims.
My chest tightens, shooting a jolt of sucker punched panic and disbelief deep into my gut. He’s not a bad looking guy, but not in Louise’s league for sure. Besides, anyone who manhandles a woman is a first-class asshole.
And Louise just doesn’t put up with assholes.
“Talk about punching above your weight.” I focus on his hands and stance. Louise is on the other side of the table, so I can’t get between them where I’d like to be. “Where’d you find this knobhead?”
“At the hospital.” He cuts her off. “I’m a surgeon.” His conceited self-assurance tells me I’m supposed to be intimidated.
No chance.
“Well, this isn’t a spelling bee and I’m not the one about to get my ass kicked. You should leave,” I warn him. “Now.”
“Usalv, it’s okay.” Sweet Lou soothes me. “I’ve got this.”
“Of course you do. But that doesn’t make it okay. Last chance,” I warn him “Get out of my seat, or I’ll move you.”
“Please,” he goads. “Touch me and I’ll sue the crap out of you.”
My face cracks into a deep smile that drips with menace. It’s the same response I give to opponents in the ring after they promise me an ass kicking.
“You’re gonna threaten a guy like me…with a lawsuit?” I give a short laugh of disbelief. “After you grabbed my date? After she told you to let go? Shit, it’d probably just pump up my rep.”
“Your rep?” he repeats. “What the hell is this? High school?”
“You need to get out more. All professional fighters have a rep. Good or bad.”
“Professional fighter?” That gets his attention. “Are you any good?” Knobhead’s tone implies I’m a poser.
“My next fight is on Pay Per View later this month. Tune in and tell me.”
Knobhead leans onto the table, then vacates the chair. Even though I’m used to towering over everyone else, this guy seems short to me. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t in a hurry to stand.
He pauses. “Nice to see you, Louise. We’ll talk later.” Knobhead taunts ov
er his shoulder while he turns away.
I lean in, and his shoulder rubs against my arm. He freezes and I whisper into his ear, “You’re not together anymore. Don’t touch her ever again.”
Knobhead walks away and doesn’t look back.
When I turn back around, Macy is standing next to Louise with a concerned look on her face. Seconds later, a tall man with gray eyes and dirty-blond hair joins them. He looks up to follow knobhead’s path around the bar.
The guy looks at me and nods before leaning down between Macy and Louise to say something. A second later, Sweet Lou looks up and gestures for me to join them.
“Louise,” I greet her.
“Hey.” Sweet Lou smiles. “You remember Macy?”
“Sure do.” I turn look down at the petite woman next to Louise. “How’s it going?”
“Hello again,” Macy replies. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“That’s not a problem, is it?” I ask.
“Hell no,” Macy insists. “The problem just left.”
“Yeah,” the man chimes in. “Whatever role you had in him leaving, thanks. I’m Paul, by the way.”
“Usalv.” I extend my hand but Paul pauses.
“Sorry man.” Paul points to his injured right hand before raising his left for a fist bump.
“No problem.” I bump my fist against his. “Been banged up pretty badly a few times myself.”
“You guys doing okay?” Macy’s gaze lingers on Sweet Lou’s face.
“Yeah.” Louise’s eyes crinkle as their corners lift. “He just got here.”
“Well, then let’s get you some drinks. I know what Lou’s having. What about you?” Macy asks.
“I need to watch it. Training,” I explain.
“I think we’ll just claim the table and hang out here for a while,” Louise interjects. “You two should say hi to everyone and then come back after a bit.”
“Are you sure? We—” Macy answers.
“—Okay, then.” Paul’s good hand squeezes Macy’s hip. “We’ll come by later. Enjoy the party.” He smiles and gives us a final nod before steering his wife back toward the bar. Paul leans down and says something to her, but I can’t hear it.
When I turn to face Sweet Lou, she’s standing beside the table with an unreadable expression directed at me.
“Hey.” I sway from side to side with nervous energy. “Is that seat taken?”
“No,” she answers.
“Can I sit down?”
She nods. When I’m seated, Louise settles back onto her own chair and watches me.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Thank you. For helping me out with Tim.” She clears her throat. “You didn’t need to do that, though.”
“Jesus, Lou. I know you can handle yourself. That doesn’t mean you should have to.” I lace my fingers together on the table. “Besides, there was something off about him, about you being a couple. It doesn’t fit.”
“I can’t disagree,” she replies.
“You were with a guy like that. For real? I still can’t believe it…”
“Like what?”
“Well, he acts like a jerk, and he grabbed you. Like that.” I shake my head. “He doesn’t know how close I came to feeding him his teeth.”
“You and me both,” she replies.
“Did he ever try that when you were with him?”
“Never. He had other ways of beating me down back then.”
“How?”
“You know about my dad. How I was there when he died and I couldn’t save him? Well, if I was the person that I am now eight years ago, he might be here today.” Sweet Lou’s arms fold across her body.
“Lou…” Her troubled expression makes me wince. “We can only do our best. You did the best you could. What else is there? Nothing.”
“You’re right. Tim got that, too. He was very sensitive about it. But after he…changed. He used it to play me, and got good at making me feel like things were my fault when they weren’t.”
“How did you get past that?”
“Time. A lot of support. Some royal ass kickings from my mother, Macy, and a few good friends. But literally, one day, I changed.”
“You changed?”
“It’s one thing to accept your own faults and the misery they cause you. It’s another thing to not care whether the person you’re with is happy. And if you don’t care whether they’re happy, well…you’re with the wrong person.”
“Or doing the wrong thing,” I reply.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“You remind me of me. Before I told everyone to fuck off and dropped out of college. Everyone. My coaches, my uncle, even my parents. Being in college on a scholarship didn’t make much difference to their lives, but I was miserable doing it.”
“So you quit?”
“Yeah. Did what felt right. To hell with all the practical-on-paper bullshit.”
“Wow.” She blinks. “That must have been tough.”
“Really?” I squeeze her forearm. “Tougher than dumping the dear doctor in the dumpster? I’m sure a lot of people thought you were crazy, too.”
“A few,” she admits, “but no one who really mattered.” Sweet Lou withdraws her arm from my touch. “Why are you here?” she asks in a puzzled voice.
“Because you invited me.” I attempt to be casual.
She nods. “But you said no. Why didn’t you tell me you changed your mind?”
“Because. Because I like having you around… And I know that if I want you to stay that I have to show up for more than just booty calls.”
She pins me with an assessing look. Then she laughs. A side splitting, gut busting SNL front row special.
“Easy, girl.” I lean back in and grab the nape of my neck to stop the prickly heat sensation. “You’ll crack a rib.”
“I’m sorry.” Her roar of laughter dims to a girlish giggle.
“Damn, what did I say? I’m trying to be sincere, and you’re laughing your ass off.”
“It’s not you. Well, it is you. The things you say. Or rather the way you say them.” She sighs and catches her breath. “Since meeting you I’ve had to install the urban dictionary on my smart phone.”
“What for?”
“Well, you’ve taught me more descriptors for copulation and male genitalia than I ever learned in nursing school. You’re a constant education.”
I smile. “Glad to be of service.”
She’s looking pensive again and the hairs on my neck stand like needles on an agitated porcupine’s tail.
“So…it’s not just about the booty calls?” she hesitates.
“Not for me,” I tell her without a second thought.
“Mmm. So what do I do with your key?” Her tone lacks emotion, but those smoky amber eyes focus on the rim of her empty whiskey glass.
“That’s up to you. I don’t plan on renting out that apartment right now.” I’d figured that out right after the first time she made me orgasm.
“I don’t understand.”
I need to be honest about this. Or as honest as I can be.
“Louise, I don’t want you to move out.” My heart races as I hesitate. “But I just don’t know if it’s right to ask you stay. I…I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
“Trapped?”
“Neither one of us signed up for what’s happened.” I cover my hand with hers and look straight into her amber eyes. “Or can promise where it’s going. I don’t want you to feel like you have no choice because you don’t have another place right now.”
“Oh.”
“Hang on to the key. As long as you want. When you’re ready, give it back.”
“That’s very considerate. Thank you.” I watch Louise’s throat as she swallows hard. “I…really don’t want to move out right now.”
“Good.” I resist the urge to fist pump the air. “Good,” I repeat, low key and casual.
She takes my hand in hers on top of the table. “So you can�
��t eat or drink anything?”
“Not here. My fight is in a few weeks.”
“I’m sorry.” She digs the shiny oval fingernail of her pinky into that full bottom lip before gently biting the tip. “We should go.”
“Go? That’s okay. I did promise to meet your friends.” I’d prefer to do it over a couple of steaks after my fight, but this was important to her.
“My friends are busy.” Her smile glimmers with pure seduction. Underneath the table, those endless legs brush against my inner thigh.
Just like that, I’m strung tighter than a drum.
“You sure?” It’s a question with many possible answers.
“I don’t work until Sunday evening. I’ve got a rare long weekend, and I want to make the most of it.”
“I think I can handle that.” I reach under the table and stroke the side of her thigh underneath that frilly short skirt of hers.
“I’m counting on it.” Her thigh leaves my grasp as she stands. “Ready?” It sounds like a dare.
“Always,” I promise.
I grasp her hand like a lifeline and lead her toward the door, out into the night filled with hidden promises.
21
“You good, Louise?” Usalv asks, his tone brimming with hopeful confidence.
He’s been working me up with meticulous enthusiasm for a good fifteen minutes, and when I started to squirm, that’s when things kicked into high gear.
Early last week, after a hospital shift and commute left me drenched in sweat, I went into the laundry room and stripped off right after coming home. While attempting a mad dash to my room right outside, I collided with Usalv while he was leaning on the door jamb, watching me.
Since then, it’s become our favorite crazy-quirky place to have sex.
“I’m fine.” He’s pinned me against the stackable washer/dryer in the tiny utility room. I hold the metal bar of the industrial shelf that hangs from the ceiling next to the laundry machine. From past experience, I know it’s very sturdy. “Relax.”
Our sexual relationship is intense, fueled by a primal drive that’s far from one sided. I’m happy, amazed and a little awestruck that things are going so well, but lately it’s been hard to ignore the uncertainty taking root in the dark depths of my psyche.
Fighting Hearts Page 14