After ordering a screwdriver at the bar, she meandered by the balcony and stared down at the throngs of people. Kieran was easy to spot. Even with a hundred feet between them, she gravitated toward him. Whether they were at the gym or even when she’d stayed at his home, she’d begun to sense when he was there—like her spirit was attuned to his.
She rested her elbows on the balcony railing. People flocked to him. For someone so surly, he sure knew how to work a room. Two middle-aged women iced in gemstones flanked him, each appreciating one of his flexed arms.
Lily’s stomach twisted, and she knocked back her drink as if it were a shot.
It’s not real.Kieran was going home with her, not some older woman offering him a good time.
But he was going to choose the gym. That was real. She knew it in her bones.
“Not a fan of the pomp and circumstance?”
Warmth filled the space beside Lily, and she turned, finding a handsome man leaning against the balcony with a dark drink in his hand. He wore a classic black tux with bow tie and white shirt. Wavy chestnut hair was slicked back atop his head and blue eyes studied her from behind ruddy cheeks. He was good-looking, but old enough to be her father, and not built enough to be a fighter.
Business owner, then.
“I don’t mind it. It’s just a bit overwhelming.” She held out her hand. “I’m Lily.”
“Roger.” He accepted her outstretched hand and gave it a polite shake. “You work for South Side MMA, isn’t that right?”
While it wasn’t a secret, he didn’t look like the demographic to scroll through Hit It. “Yes. And you?”
He had an easy smile that shone with straight white teeth. “I’m on the board for the Local Legends Charity.”
Oh!“You’re the one who set this up?”
“With some help,” he chuckled, “but yes.” Roger slipped into her space and placed his hand at the small of her back, steering her away from the balcony. “Shall we get you another drink?”
Drinking quickly wouldn’t be good for her in the long haul, but it would be rude to turn down a drink with the man responsible for the whole event. “Sure.”
Refill in hand, Roger guided her to a high-top table where several guests stood around, sipping their drinks and sampling a plate of bruschetta.
“Hey, Rog.” A brunet with a full, trimmed, salt-and-pepperbeard clapped the man on the back. “Excited to get this dinner out of the way?”
Roger lifted his tumbler to his lips, though a smile snuck into his eyes. “I love these dinners, Dean. They bring out the best in the community.”
“They certainly do.” Dean’s pointed stare—little more than a leer—followed the deep cut of Lily’s dress down past her breasts.
Almost instinctively, she lifted her drink and held it in front of her chest.
“I haven’t seen you around the circuit before, miss,” said a stranger with reddish-bronze hair. “Are you with one of the brands?”
Brands? Did he mean brand names, like the sponsors?
“Uh, no.” Lily shook her head and squirmed in her nude heels. As much as she hated the crowds, this small talk was possibly worse. Why had she split up from Kieran?
“Miss Lily works for Neal at South Side.”
Recognition flashed in Dean’s eyes, and he snapped his fingers as a grin split his face. “I knew you looked familiar! You’re that girl from the internet. The one who has everyone all worked up over Southpaw.”
The redhead groaned and shook his head. “You’re the one who ruined the betting pool.”
Warmth climbed up Lily’s neck, but she stuck out her chin, refusing to shy away from the man’s disparaging tone. “I just make videos for the gym. I have nothing to do with any bets.”
“Oh, of course.” Dean chuckled and popped a piece of bread into his mouth. He didn’t bother to finish before he spoke again. “Because your little video with his tongue down your throat had nothing to do with everyone betting on him to win.”
Never mind how inappropriate it was they were discussing her kiss, what the hell did betting have to do with anything?
“I thought this fight was for charity?”
