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She swallows but quickly shakes her head. “I think this qualifies as an appropriate conversation between…friends.”

I nod. “So, any guy who mentions your weight in a negative way doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. Especially when it’s almost definitely related to a health concern, like it is in your case.”

“How do you…” She stops and shakes her head. “You read about PMOS.”

“I try to be informed about things. For a few weeks it was all over the news, so I figured if it was important enough to make headlines, it was important enough for me to at least skim the content.”

“You’re nothing like what I imagined when we first met,” she admits quietly.

“You saw big and brawny and thought no brains, right?” I smirk.

She chuckles. “No. I thought Rage the Cage was probably an attention whore and a gym bro who didn’t care about issues like PMOS. And that was probably wrong of me, to stereotype you like that.”

“It was. Rage the Cage was a persona I used when I was fighting. The UFC likes to build a brand. But that’s not who I am. That’s one of many reasons I quit.”

“Well, I apologize for the inadvertent stereotype.”

I shrug. “Not necessary. It will take a while for us all to get to know each other.”

“Like we are now.” She looks around. “We really should get to work.”

“Yeah.” I reluctantly straighten up. “You okay to walk?”

“Yup.” She takes a step and immediately winces. “Okay, maybe not. Shit.”

I don’t wait for permission and just pick her up again. But instead of being angry, she laughs.

“Now you’re just trying to show off.”

I laugh too. “Maybe.”

When we get to her office, I set her down on her chair and look around. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“No. I’m going to transfer all the video camera feeds here to my monitors so you guys aren’t relegated to that little office.”

“You sure? You worked all day.”

“You think this is my first all-nighter?”

“No, probably not.”

“Go.” She makes a shooing motion. “I’ll let you know if I see anything or need a break.” She reaches for her earpiece so we’ll all be connected.

“All right. I’ll check in every now and then.”

“Great.”

I walk out of her office wishing I could stay. Talk to her some more. She may have misjudged me, but I think I also underestimated her. She comes off as this incredibly intelligent, strong, self-sufficient woman. But there’s a vulnerability to her I hadn’t anticipated. And I enjoyed being a small part of it.

She checks all my damn boxes.

So much so I almost offered to make that baby she wants with her.

Which would be ludicrous.

Wouldn’t it?

If I’m honest, it gives me the perfect in with her. An excuse to be in her life, give her a chance to get to know me, and maybe show her that I’m not just some big, dumb bodyguard.