Nodding, she smiled then dashed off to help a customer.
Matt had been close by, wiping down the bar. “Bad idea, Joy. Remember what I told you.”
“I know. Don’t mix business with pleasure, in so many words.”
He gave me a wary look. “You’ll get burned. I’ve seen it happen.”
“Thanks for the advice. Truly.”
This undercover gig was starting to rattle me in more ways than I cared to admit.
12
DUKE
The sound of Sam Tinnesz’s music filled the gym as I mercilessly pounded the punching bag at five thirty the next morning. So many emotions were bottled up inside me, and all the liquor in the world couldn’t take away the shitstorm that was my life.
With every jab, I pictured that fucker who’d roughed up Joy. I wanted to hunt him down and beat him to a pulp. What the fuck was wrong with men who battered women? I wasn’t exactly innocent of the things I’d been accused of doing in my life, but hitting women had never been one of them. They should be treated with respect and kindness and like equals.
I laughed as pain shot up my arms from my assault on the bag. Joy had earned more than my respect last night when she challenged my threat to fire her. I’d been serious, though. She needed to know where I stood with men like that bald guy. I’d almost killed my old man several times when I found him beating Grace and my mother. I couldn’t count how many times I’d grabbed a steak knife and tried to stab him, only to be stopped by my mom, when she’d been living at home, or one of my brothers.
Grunting, I continued to destroy the punching bag as my thoughts switched to Joy and that mind-blowing kiss—sweet, delectable, and addicting. What had I been thinking? I shouldn’t have done that. Now I was hooked. I wanted to kiss her again and again.
The music suddenly stopped, and I jolted out of the haze I was in, whirling around, my gaze landing on her.
Sweat poured off me, my mouth slightly ajar, and I must have had a deer-in-the-headlights look.
But holy shit! It was like I was seeing Joy for the first time. I knew she was stunning and curvy, but damn.
“You didn’t hear me,” she said. “I didn’t want to break your concentration. I was afraid if I startled you that you would turn around and punch me.”
She was wearing a green sports bra and black leggings that hugged every part of her body. Her biceps were rather defined and perfect for her size. Her toned thighs could probably put a hurt on anyone if she did any kickboxing. But the best thing about the beauty with the golden-brown hair was her six-pack abs. Whoa!
I went over to the chair near her, snagged my towel, and wiped the sweat off my face and neck.
“Taking out your frustrations?” she asked.
She had no idea. “Something like that.” I traded my towel for the bottle of Gatorade as I checked my watch. “You’re early.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“I guess we have something in common.”
I’d stared at the ceiling the entire night, replaying that kiss in my mind over and over like a broken record.
Joy walked around the gym then over to the boxing ring. “Your sister is super sweet. She told me you’re good in the ring.”
Before Grace had left the club last night, she couldn’t stop talking about how pretty Joy was. How cool she was. How Joy knew the best dress shops in Boston. Hell, my sister had even invited Joy to Thanksgiving dinner.
My first holiday with my siblings was turning into a matchmaking game. As much as I loved Grace for wanting to yank me out of the dark and bring me into the light, now wasn’t the time to entertain a steady relationship.No way. No how.
“I can hold my own. Do you box?” I chugged the bottle of Gatorade and tossed the empty bottle into the trash can.
“I’ve done some kickboxing.” She plucked a pair of gloves off the shelf where other workout gear was located. “I would rather use my fists than gloves.”
I reared back. “Hardcore.”
She shrugged. “Aren’t you?”
