I have no clue what I’m doing and my fists are on fire, but releasing this anger feels good. Besides, the need to hit something is why I wandered inside this room in the first place. Bruises may be blossoming across my knuckles, but at least my head feels clearer.
“Well, I’ll be.”
A terrible imitation of a southern drawl assaults me from behind, and I whirl.
Brandon freaking Roberts stands in my place of worship wearing nothing but a pair of black workout shorts and shoes. Well, probably socks and hopefully underwear too, but I can’t stop focusing on thenothingpart.
My eyes drag across his tan, built torso, snagging on a tattoo I don’t remember seeing before. The familiar thorny roses still span his shoulder and up his neck, but they now are a backdrop to an inky black spyglass resting atop his collarbone.
I sweep my eyes from it to the knowing smirk on his face, and I consider adopting it as my new punching bag.
“Didn’t know you were a boxer,” Brandon says. “But judging from your terrible form, I’d bet money that you aren’t.”
I glower, but I make a silent vow to keep my eyes on his face. Any memories of his sweaty, bare torso are in thepast, and I’m intent on keeping them there.
I snarl between pants, “What are you doing here, Brandon?”
He holds up his hands. “Whoa, retract those claws, Katie Cat. I come here to box.”
“No you don’t.” I call his bluff. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
“Aww. You’ve been keeping an eye out for me? I’m flattered.”
If I could make someone dead with my eyes, it would be him.
Two people flank Brandon. One I recognize as Tucker, his best friend that I met briefly in college, but the pretty redheaded girl I’ve never seen before.
“Kate.” Tucker gives a jovial nod and pumps my hand like a jobinterview. “Good to see you again.” The playful twinkle in his hazel eyes is still there.
I can’t prevent a small grin from forming. “Good to see you, Tucker.”
Brandon’s mouth drops into a perfect ‘o,’ but his green eyes glitter. “‘Good to see you?’ So you’re nice tohim? I see how it is.”
“And here I thought the doctors said you were braindead,” I say sweetly.
Brandon laughs, unperturbed.
The tall, pretty redhead beside Tucker steps forward with a small smile. Her turquoise workout set makes her ivory, heart-shaped face look like a literal china doll, and her shiny red hair is cut so short it brushes her chin.
“Hey, Kate. I’m Julia.”
Julia.A lightbulb illuminates a memory of college Brandon telling me about his other childhood friend, but I never met her before our two month-long relationship turned into a dumpster fire.
I return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“‘Nice to meet you?’” Brandon mimics my high voice with a teasing grin. “I had no idea you could be this nice.”
“I have nothing against these people. It’syouthat I have the problem with. So leave.”
“Leave? What is this ongoing hallucination you have? Wait,isthis your territory?” His voice darkens suggestively. “Are we gonna rumble at midnight over it?”
My mind goes blank at those words. I’m flustered, and I hate it.
Brandon grins before he calmly states, “We’re not gonna have this conversation again. Like I said, you don’t own the museum, and you don’t own Pulse. Unless you suddenly started investing in properties, I’m free to go wherever I want.”
He ignores my protest and sits down on a nearby bench. He tugs on a set of black boxing gloves. “Julia scored us BOGO memberships, and I get to bring Tuck for free when I come. It’s his New Year’s resolution to learn how to box.”
My eyes meet Julia’s dark blue ones, and she mouths the word “sorry.” Man, despite Brandon being awful, I really like his choice of friends.
