I roll my eyes at the cheesy line. “Probably the same thing as an old coot like you, Donnie.”
He winces. “Told you not to call me that.”
Cocking my head, I grin. “Been a few years. Might’ve forgotten.”
“Or maybe you like winding up an old man,” he grouses, then kisses my cheek and releases me. “You look good, darlin’. Thailand agrees with you.”
I wait for the heaviness to settle in my heart at the reminder of Thailand, but for the first time, it doesn’t come. Perhaps I’m making progress.
“Haven’t you heard? I’m in Las Vegas these days. Got my first fights in a few weeks.”
His brow arches. “Do you now? Well then, I’ll be watching.”
Okay, that gives me a dose of the warm fuzzies. “I want to hear your thoughts afterward, just like the old days.”
He chuckles. “It wasn’t that long ago, kid. So tell me, whose gym are you fighting out of?”
“Seth’s.”
He does a double take. “MMA, huh? Never figured you for the type to like rollin’ on the ground.”
I shrug. “I’m learning.”
Devon shifts beside me, and Don turns to him. It takes less than three seconds for recognition to set in.
“Well, damn,” he exclaims. “If it isn’t ‘Dangerous’ Devon Green.” He holds out a hand, which Devon shakes firmly. “Don Chapman. Great to meet you. I’ve watched a few of your fights.”
Devon’s smile mirrors Don’s. “Hopefully the good ones. It’s an honor to meet the first man to teach my warrior princess how to throw a punch.”
Don’s gaze skitters back and forth between us. “You two are a thing?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
“That’s fucking fantastic.” He pumps Devon’s hand again, then wraps one arm around my shoulders. “I’m thrilled you visited while you were in town. It’s good to see you, kid.”
“You, too, Donnie.” All of a sudden, I’m not ready to leave. I want to spend more time in this place that used to mean everything to me. “You know, Dev and I don’t have to be anywhere for a few hours. Why don’t we help out with your class?” Both men stare at me. “What do you say?” I ask Devon.
“I’m in.” His answer comes easily, as I knew it would.
Don flushes pink with pleasure, but cautions us, “Once I introduce you to these troublemakers, you might not get away again for a while.”
“Fine by me.”
Shaking his head again, as if bemused by the entire situation, he pivots, and whistles to get everyone’s attention. A dozen faces turn his way.
“We have some very special guests.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, just like he used to, and for some ridiculous reason, it chokes me up. “This here is Harley Isles. She’s just returned from living in Thailand, where she did professional muay thai.” He angles his head toward me. “How many fights you had, Harley?”
“Seventy-six.”
“Seventy-six,” he says, and a weighty silence follows. An atmosphere of anticipation fills the room. “It’s not often you get the chance to learn from someone with that many bouts under their belt.” A low murmur sounds. “And if you haven’t already recognized him, this gentleman is Devon Green. He trains out of Crown MMA Gym in Las Vegas, under my former student Seth Isles.” The murmur grows to a hum, the small group eying us with excitement. Then, with impeccable timing, Don delivers the knockout punch. “They’re going to work with each of you this morning. Listen to them. Give them your respect. These guys know what they’re talking about.” Several of them pump their fists. One guy cheers aloud. Don lowers his voice as he addresses Devon and me. “How do you want to do this?”
“We could take each person through a couple of rounds on pads,” Devon suggests.
“At the end, anyone who wants to try their hand at sparring us can have a go,” I add.
“Perfect.” Don winks. “Hope you’re prepared for the fan-girling.”
“I’m sure we’ll survive.”
