Interesting choices. Not the cookie cutter variety. Also, literacy? This guy? I don’t see it. King’s Sports Grants makes more sense. They give scholarships to kids from low socioeconomic backgrounds to give them a chance to train with the best.
“Do you mentor any kids in the program?”
“Nah.” He holds his hands up, palms facing me. “I’m strictly a hands-off guy.”
Of course he is. My upper lip curls. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. Still, he must havesomeredeeming qualities. Everyone does. “Do you volunteer your time anywhere?”
“No.”
“Have any pets?”
“Nope.”
Snapping the notebook shut, I slam it on the table. “Mr. Rawlins, I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”
“Call me Jase.”
“No, thank you.” That suggests a level of familiarity I’m not comfortable with.
He scans me, and I feel every hair that isn’t in place but resist the urge to smooth them down. “Do you volunteer, Lena?”
I shift in the chair, uncomfortable with the way he’s looking at me. “This isn’t about me.”
“There.” He sits back, smiling smugly. “See? You hate being interrogated too. It’s an invasion of privacy.”
“It’s my job.” And he’s clearly not going to make it any easier. Time to try another tactic. “Do you mind if I shadow you for the rest of the day?”
* * *
Jase
“Shadow me?” I ask in disbelief. “As in, follow me around? Go everywhere I go?”
Lena nods, tilting her head, a cascade of dark red hair spilling over her shoulders. It’s beautiful, like liquid magma. I want to glide my fingers through the silky length, wrap it around my hands and pull it so her throat is bared to me. I admit to being fascinated by necks. They’re the human body’s most vulnerable point, with the jugular vein running just beneath the surface of the skin. Touching someone’s neck is powerful. It can bring pain, or pleasure. I should know. After all, I’m famous for choking people into submission. But when women are in my bed, pain is the last thing they experience.
“That’s the general idea, yeah,” she says, unaware of the dirty thoughts swirling through my mind. “If you won’t talk to me, it’s the best way for me to get a feel for who you are.”
I snort. “What do you care who I am?”
“I care because I’m paid to.”
Ouch. Kitten has claws.
I can’t see how her shadowing me is going to help, and having her nearby will distract me from training, but I consider the idea anyway. She probably thinks I live it up, snort coke out of groupies’ navels and have orgies in my backyard. If she sees how boring I am, perhaps she’ll leave me alone and do whatever it is she needs to tick off her bullshit boxes.
Really, there isn’t much to know about me. I train, eat, sleep, and hang with my brothers. When I need to let loose, I call one of my casual hook-ups for a quick fuck. The girls I spend time with know the drill. Fighting comes first. We can be friends, but we’re not ever going to be more. That suits them nicely, too. Who’d want to be the girlfriend of a professional MMA fighter? We’re never around, have no time for anyone, and women throw themselves at us whenever we go out in public.
“Fine,” I agree, and her brows hike up. “You can follow me back to the gym.” As soon as she gets a load of the grungy, über-masculine place where I train, she’ll want out. And if she doesn’t, at least she’ll provide some entertainment for the guys.
She stands. “Thanks.”
I stand too, and the top of her head only reaches my chin. “You won’t be thanking me soon. You’re gonna be bored out of your mind.”
For the first time today, she gives me a genuine smile. “Don’t talk like you know me, fighter boy. I might surprise you.”
“I hope you do.” But I doubt it. “I’m parked out front. Is your ride nearby?”
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised you managed to get a prime park. Someone probably cleared it especially for you. Perks of the job, huh?”
