“I’m totally on the same page as you,” I say quickly. “That’s what I want, too. But I’ve never thought about you this way before, so I need a little time to get used to the idea. I can’t make a commitment to you right this minute.”
He squeezes my hand. “I get that. But I’d really appreciate it if you could let me know whether you want to give this thing between us a real shot within a couple of weeks. Think on it.” With that, he lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. His lips are soft. They feel pleasant, but there aren’t any tingles or flares of excitement.
“I can absolutely do that.” I just need to get my head around this situation first. “And you should know how much I value you being open with me. Not many guys would be.”
He shrugs. “Any man who doesn’t make it clear where you stand isn’t much of a man, in my opinion.”
Jeez. Does he realize he just insulted Gabe? Probably. There’s a smugness to his smirk that wasn’t there before. Ken may be direct, but he isn’t above taking potshots at others.
We finish the date and he walks me home. Outside my apartment building, he pauses and smiles down at me.
“I had a nice time tonight,” he says.
“I did too,” I agree. “Thanks for suggesting it.”
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
I nod. “I’ll text you the details. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He doesn’t move, and nor do I. Is it customary to kiss at this point in the evening? I’m so out of touch with dating that I have no freaking clue. Eventually, he ducks his head and brushes his lips over mine. The kiss is feather-soft, and once again, does nothing for me, thanks to Gabriel-freaking-Mendoza ruining me for other men.Sigh.
“Goodbye,” I murmur, as he turns to leave. All the while, I’m wondering how I’m supposed to get out of the lust-web I’m caught up in when it comes to Gabe. It might take a while longer than I’d hoped.
Gabe
“Get your head in the game,” Seth growls as Jase pops me on the cheek.
I don’t mind taking the hit, and ignore his rebuke. I’ve got this fight tonight, no problem. In truth, it’s just a warmup for my match against Leo Delaney, AKA the finale of the Ruby Knuckles. Hell, I’m more nervous about seeing Sydney after today’s event than I am about stepping into the cage. I do this shit all the time, and Taz Montgomery is a small fry compared to some of the guys I’ve been up against.
“Asshole, you hear me?” he demands.
“Yeah,” I answer dutifully, but my mind is wandering to Sydney and what she’ll be wearing. She always makes a big deal of these events and the atmosphere really gets to her. I hope that, however she chooses to dress, it’s sexier than the outfit she wore for Dr. Ken yesterday. Selfishly, I cross my fingers that she’ll opt for the “Mind-Reader Mendoza” supporter gear—then everyone will see my face on her and stay the hell away. No one wants to mess with a fighter’s girl. Especially not when that fighter is the son of a former champion and a wall of solid muscle.
“He knows what he’s doing,” Dad says from his seat against the wall. He tries to let Seth take charge at these events, and restrict himself to the role of manager, but it doesn’t come easily to him. “It won’t go for more than one round.”
Seth’s jaw tightens. “We’ll see.”
The medic checks on me, and then I’m escorted to the arena. The place has a high roof, bleachers around the walls, and rows of seats ringing the center stage. As usual, I called earlier in the day to reserve ringside seats for Sydney. As we make the journey to the cage, my eyes search the crowd for her. Finally, I find her, thanks to the bright overhead lights glinting off Lena’s flaming red hair. But who’s that on her other side?
I crane my neck.Tell me it’s not the bastard from Moretti’s.
It is. As I draw level with her, I can see him clearly. She brought adateto my fight? What the fuck is with that? This isourthing. Mine and hers. She doesn’t get to invite every guy who wants to stick his dick in her—that’s not how this works.
And what does it mean that she brought him here? If he warranted a second date, she must think he has potential. Surely she wouldn’t let just any jackass come between us.
At the cage, the umpire checks that my mouthguard is in place and I stride to the corner, but my mind is whirling. I barely even see the guy opposite. I get an impression of purple silk and tattoos on white skin, but that’s it. Glancing over at Sydney again, I try to see Dr. Ken’s face. Is he smug? I bet he is. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s got the girl, and meanwhile I’m the one who has to go toe-to-toe with some fucker who thinks ‘Taz’ is a real name.
The umpire calls us to the center of the cage. He reels off the usual spiel, and we bump gloves. I’m expecting to win within one round, which is why it’s a surprise when an uppercut appears out of nowhere, jarring me senseless. I stare at Taz, unable to believe he landed such a cheap shot. Where are my usual preternatural instincts? My ability to see a punch before it’s even thrown? His fist comes at me again, and I slip out of the way, then counter with a kick across his gut. It knocks the air from him, but he smells blood and keeps on coming.
I feign a lunge, and when he tries to stop me with a push kick, I take his bottom leg out from under him. Seth screams at me to pin him down, but I’m too slow and he rolls upright, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
Why is this guy still fighting? I should have dealt with him by now, and both me and the audience know it. Something is wrong. Embarrassed by my inaction, I take the initiative, striking at him with a combo I’ve practiced hundreds of times.
Wrong move.
I’m a counter-fighter, and leading the action isn’t my style. Because of that, I’m unprepared when he ducks my punch, grabs me around the middle, and throws me to the ground. Unlike me, he moves fast, straddling my waist and rearing back for a knock-out hit. The beeper sounds, and the round ends. His expression betrays his disappointment. He climbs off me and returns to his corner. Hauling my heavy ass off the ground, I do the same.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Seth grabs me by the shoulders and shakes, as if Taz hasn’t beat me up enough. “Head out of ass, Mendoza. Forget about whatever the hell your problem is—I promise, it’ll keep—and focus on not dying.”
