Three minutes.
I can hit Brandon three times in three minutes, no problem. Besides, I’m planning to sink my glove into his cocky expression way more than that. I may be small, but I’m fit and filled to the brim with feminine rage.
Tucker adopts a freakishly convincing announcer voice. “Today’s match features Brandon ‘Loser’ Roberts going up against Kate I-Forgot-Her-Last-Name-Since-It’s-Been-A-While-So-I-Apologize.”
I laugh as Brandon mutters, “Shut up, Tuck.”
Tuck beams, unperturbed, as he counts us down.
“Three, two, one,go.”
I launch myself at Brandon, who simply bobs and weaves away. Black gloves up and protecting his face, he’s all muscle andfarmore skill than he let on. His moves are like a choreographed dance that only he knows the steps to. Hypnotic in his movement, Brandon dodges a punch I aimed for his head.
After about a minute, I make contact, but it’s my arm slamming into his forearm as he blocks another punch.
He’sfastfor his size. Faster than I anticipated.
Maybe I need to aim lower, you know, switch it up?
I cock my right arm back like I’m going to swing for his head, but at the last second I throw an upward jab with my left glove into his rock-hard stomach.
He grunts, and I have to bite back my squeal of victory.
“Cheap shot,” he mutters, and I smile.
Two punches to go.
Seconds slip faster than the beads of sweat on my forehead. I launch myself again. Brandon sidesteps my advance, a cocky smirk pulling the corner of his mouth.
Two more punches and Pulse Fitness will be mine. Maybe I can negotiate a second fight to get him to leave the museum?
Focus, Kate.
I aim my glove toward his gut, but I quickly redirect it to his jaw.
Much to both our surprise, his head snaps to the side. Brandon blinks a few times, then opens his jaw in a slow circle. He returns his attention to me with a bemused expression.
“That’s a natural right hook, right there.” He skims his gaze over my body before his voice drops low enough that only I can hear. “You’ve built more muscle beneath those sexy curves, haven’t you?”
My cheeks flood with heat, and my heart stutters as fast as me.
“I-I?—”
“No explanation needed,” he murmurs behind his gloves, “just stating a fact.” His emerald eyes are chained to mine as he dances back and forth. A wavy lock drips over his forehead.
“That’s a good girl.” His voice is midnight silk. “Only about five more seconds.”
My head whips to Tucker’s phone, which indeed only has three, two, one?—
Brandon’s mouth brushes the shell of my ear. “Great effort,love. I’m looking forward to our lessons together.” His hot breath lights goosebumps across my skin, but panic shoots through me nearly as fast.
“Together?” I pant.
“The instructor of my choosing.” He takes a few steps back and opens his wingspan. “I choose me.”
My eyes skid from leather glove to leather glove before meeting his huge smile.
“You can’t…” I say, looking to Tucker and Julia for help, who are failing to hide their laughter. Racking my brain, I search for a loophole. “But you said…”
