“Well, do you think they’d like a boxing gym? A place to work out their aggression-if they have any? I was thinking maybe I could, ah, coach them or something. Teach them how to box.”
I’m unprepared for the way Amber’s face lights up. “Jared, that’s an amazing idea! You’d be perfect for coaching troubled teens. Would you really do that?”
I’ve cast the die, there’s no backing out now. Not when Amber has that full-force ahead look on her. I clear my throat. “Well, maybe we could try it out? See how it works? I rented this warehouse for, uh-” I stop, not wanting to involve Amber in anything illegal.
“I know about your fight club,” she breezes, like it doesn’t bother her a bit. “And yes, this would be the perfect way to make a legit business organization around fighting. I think it’s the most brilliant idea I’ve ever heard.”
I grin. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“Yes, truly. Have you talked to Garrett?”
I shake my head. “I wanted to ask you first. I know Garrett’s gonna be in on anything you green light.” I wink.
She laughs. “Clever wolf. Okay, I will make some calls. Maybe you could start with a one-time workshop to gauge interest-both on your part and theirs. You know, just see how it goes. And if everyone likes it, we can set up something more permanent. But you’ll have to get everything legal and above-board-liability insurance, fingerprinting, CPR training.”
“I’ll work on that this week. Anything else?”
“Are you going to buy mats and make it look like a real gym?”
“Yeah. Definitely.” A gym/dance studio/performance space. With cage fighting in the back. There’s something about having a full row of warehouses to work with that makes it seem like anything and everything is possible.
Even winning Angelina.
I head over to Home Depot to pick up the plywood and foam core necessary to spring the floor in the dance studio, warehouse, and the gym. I’m going to trick out the space in every way possible, because my future is tied up in this. I don’t know what it will look like, but I have to take steps to get there.
Angelina
Three days. That’s how long I go without seeing Jared. He sent texts-friendly ones. Asked how my day was. Wanted to know if I’d moved forward on planning my big show. Told me to give my professors hell and kept promising to see me soon.
But it’s been three days and anxiety builds in me like I’m going to blow. I hate this unsettled feeling-not knowing what’s happening with us. Not that I ever knew, but at least he was at my place, in my space, crowding all my doubts with his large presence.
I change out of my leggings and tank top and pull on a sundress before I step outside of the dance building. And then my heart skips a beat.
There he is. On his motorcycle at the curb.
My heart double-pounds and a smile stretches across my face. It’s all I can do not to run straight over.
He dismounts and pulls me into him, his mouth on mine like nothing happened.
I should shove him away and demand we talk. Hash through our relationship and what’s going to happen. But that sounds terrible. And his lips over mine are so much better than terrible. They’re divine.
Like coming home.
So yeah, talking can wait. I just want to be with Jared for now.
“I missed you,” I say honestly when we break apart.
“Baby, I fucked my hand so hard I got blisters missing you.” A shocked laugh spills from my lips and Jared shrugs. “You oughta know.”
“Then why’d you stay away?” Damn. I really don’t want to have this conversation because I’m terrified of his answer.
His face clouds and he presses his lips together. “I’m trying to figure my shit out.” His voice is gruff.
I wrap my arms around him and squeeze hard, as if I can somehow make him stay in my life forever.
He tips up my chin. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I sound breathless. Now that you’re here. I look at the bike. “Are you going to take me for a ride?”
He smiles and picks up the helmet. “A short one. Because you’re not dressed appropriately.” His eyes trail to my bare legs, lips kicking up like he loves what he sees. “I’ll take you to your car.”
I’m dying to ask, “And then?” To beg him to come back to my house, but I don’t want to come off as crazy needy here. I climb on the back of the bike and wrap my arms around his solid waist. He eases us into motion and I lean my face against his back, breathe in his scent.
The trip to the car is short-far too short. I climb off and fiddle with my dance bag. “Now what?”
Jared shoves a hand through his short hair. “Now…”
“You should probably come to my place so I can take care of that, er, problem of yours,” I say, eyeing his bulging cock.
He lets out a strained laugh. “Fuck, baby.” He looks around, like the answer is written on one of the trees.
I moisten my lips with my tongue, making sure he sees the motion.
He groans and gives his cock a squeeze through his jeans. “I never could resist you. I swear to the fates-even if I’d had you wiped, I’d be right back here again making new memories.”
Something flutters in my chest. New memories. Yes. Please.
He captures the back of my head and melds his mouth over mine again. The kiss is possessive, dominating. “You go home and take your shower, little girl. I’ll pick up some food and meet you there. What sounds good?”
“You.”