Fighting Lust: A Deadly Sins Novel (15 page)

“Wow,” she says as she quickly looks at me and then turns to consume the view before her again, “it’s spectacular.”

Warm pleasure runs through me at her delight. “It is.” I tell her not at all talking about the view. Feeling embarrassed for the thought, I clear my throat and turn to the hostess whose eyes are roaming my body instead of looking at my face, “Hello,” I say drawing her eyes to mine, “I have reservations for two under King, please.”

She smiles at me like she knows me, making me a little uncomfortable, before checking the list, “I see you here,” she says marking something with her pen. “Would you prefer to sit inside or out? We have both available.”

Before replying, I look at Tessa to let her decide. “Out,” she says and I nod, glad for her selection. It’s a warm and beautiful evening.

“Allow me to show you to your table.” A woman who was standing next to the hostess stand with menus seems confused by this development, but I nod. Waiting for Tessa to precede me, when she does, I follow. “So, what brings you here tonight?” the hostess asks looking beyond Tessa to me. She’s annoying. “Spending some time with my girl. Plus it’s her birthday,” I say suppressing a chuckle when Tessa gives me a sharp look.

“Oh,” the hostess says reluctantly, “happy birthday.”

Tessa gives a tight smile and I rub her on her back. The hostess leads us to a table for two in the corner off the large wood deck where the view is up close and personal, hands us our menus and then lingers uncomfortably. Finally, I look at her not sure what she wants, making her blurt, “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to do this, but I’m a big fan. Can I please have your autograph Playboy?”

My face feels warm as I give her a stiff nod. She presents me with paper and pen and I sign it quickly and hand it back. “Here you go.”

“Thanks! Enjoy your dinner. The waitress will be with you shortly.” I think she screeches when she walks away.

I look at Tessa embarrassingly. “Playboy?”

“It’s my fighting name. Ryder ‘Playboy’ King.”

“Is that right? And how did you earn that name?”

I shrug, “The guys gave it to me.”

“Because of your reputation with the ladies?”

“I guess,” I shrug, not wanting to talk about this.

“Interesting. And what was that about my birthday? It’s not my birthday. And just for the record, I’m not your girl either,” she says with a smirk.

“I know. You’ll see why I said it’s your birthday and as far as you being my girl,” I shrug, “a technicality. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Are you always this sure of yourself?” she asks with a bite of sass that I love.

“Yep,” I answer easily then open my menu without further response. I hide my amusement behind my menu as I hear a small sigh before she opens her menu too.

“Hi, my name is Amanda and I’ll be your waitress tonight. Do y’all know what you’d like to have?” I can’t hide my pleasure when Tessa orders a beer and a burger. A girl after my own heart, that’s for damn sure. “I’ll have the same,” I instruct the waitress when she looks to me. “Alright,” she nods as she takes our menus, “I’ll be back with your drinks.”

“So, tell me everything about yourself,” I instruct her as soon as it’s just the two of us again.

“Maybe you could be more specific about what you’d like to know?”

“How about we start with the easy stuff. Tell me about your family.” Her face hardness, the corners of her mouth falling into a frown. She looks to the side and runs her hand through her hair.

“How about something else,” she suggests.

I frown, “That’s not easy?”

“You see this is why I don’t date. I can’t do this kind of thing.”

“Whoa, slow down. It’s okay.” Her eyes are glassy and I instinctually want to calm her down. “So family is out,” I shrug, “it’s no big deal. We can talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Everything. Anything.”

She pauses for a moment, the steam subsiding, “Well, you already know I’m a nurse. I’ve lived in Arizona my whole life, went to college at ASU. I love being a nurse, but there are certainly times I wonder what the hell I was thinking choosing it as my profession.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s exhausting work and like I mentioned before, I’ve taken on a new role that I’m not sure I’m completely loving yet.”

“When did you know you wanted to be a nurse?”

This gets me a smile, “I knew from the time I was a little girl. I used to be the neighborhood nurse. Those kids that had lemonade stands?” I nod. “Yeah, not me. I had a doctor’s office stand. Five cents for a bandage and disinfectant.”

“Only five cents? You should have charged more.”

She laughs, “Yes, maybe.”

“You’ve mentioned, or maybe I heard when I was trying to get information about you, that your new job is head nurse. What does that mean?”

Thankfully she chooses to ignore my confession about digging for information. “I was promoted to assistant head nurse of the emergency department, which means I have oversight of all the nurses on my shift, help in hiring and training new nursing staff, help with the residents, work with the EMS systems people, and frankly, have overall responsibility for how the entire ED runs when I am there. I have staff scheduling responsibilities and all kinds of administrative tasks and responsibilities. And the staff - truth is, they pretty much drive me crazy. Not always in a bad way, but because for adults they are so needy. My friends at work, Natalie and Noah, like to remind me, we were exactly the same way as young nurses. But, I refuse to believe it

“Selective memory?”

“Probably,” she laughs. “I feel like I’m a new mother of several bratty fighting toddlers.”

I laugh at the picture she creates, “That must be annoying.”

“It can be, definitely. I find myself being curt and intolerant at times, but it will all be worth it when they have their a-ha moment.”

“What’s an ‘a-ha moment’?” I ask curiously.

“It’s that moment when they will know with one hundred percent certainty that they are doing exactly what they were called in life to do. The moment when all the stars align and you can see it all so clearly, the path that led you to where you are and even glimpse the place it will lead. It’s that moment when they will begin to delight in the work they’re doing, and will see how much it means to the people they’re helping.” While she talks the waitress brings our drinks, but we barely pay her any attention. “It may take a special patient that gives them the a-ha, or maybe a co-worker, but they all have it at some point. I can’t wait to be a part of that.”

“And you? Did you have your a-ha moment?”

“Yes,” she says looking far off into the distance which makes her quiet for a moment. It’s as if she’s seeing that moment again, maybe reliving it, I’m not sure. I’m quiet, taking in her serious face, the tiny pucker of her lips, the line that’s appeared between her brows. She begins blinking quickly and I can see she’s pushed away whatever thoughts visited her. “Perhaps it’s a story I will share with you another time.”

She faces me again and looks apprehensive about what my reaction may be at her resistance to discuss it, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m curious, sure, but she’s been timid about going to dinner from the moment I asked. I’m certainly not going to do anything to scare her away. So, I just nod, and take a sip of my beer.

She continues, “I miss the intensive patient care even if that is actually harder work. I mean, that’s what I really love about nursing, and this job doesn’t enable that to be my focus so much. So I look for opportunities to schedule shifts for myself or to sneak in a few cases here and there during my shift. Like the evening you came in. Anyway,” she shrugs, “the jury is still out on whether this job is going to be right for me.”

“I get it. Maybe you’ll have an a-ha moment with your staff that makes you realize you love being their boss.”

“We’ll see,” she says.

“What else can you tell me about you?” I ask.

“Hmm, let’s see. I love to read a good murder mystery. I like a good action movie, or not surprisingly, hospital dramas.” She giggles, “Although Gina says it’s because I love to point out all the parts that aren’t realistic. It drives her crazy.” She takes a drink of her beer before continuing, “I have an unhealthy addiction to Cheetos and enjoy baking from time to time.”

“Cheetos?”

“What? They’re good!” she insists. “Let me guess, Mr. Fighter doesn’t indulge in Cheetos?”

“Not usually.” I pat my stomach, “I need to keep these as hard as can be. I tend to eat pretty healthy except when I’m laying on the carbs to gain weight if I need to.”

“Sounds kind of boring. I think I’m going to need to bake you some cupcakes or cookies.”

“I’d like that,” I tell her honestly, “I haven’t had home baked goods in ages. On a rare occasion Rowan sneaks us something, but Jax doesn’t support us eating that stuff.” She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it quickly. I can only assume she started to ask me about my family, but I’m sure she hesitated due to the fact she didn’t want to talk about hers, so I offer the information, “My mom retired to Florida a while back and my dad lives here, but he certainly doesn’t bake.”

The waitress brings our food to the table and neither of us wastes a moment and dive right in. She makes a happy humming sound after her first bite. “Good?” I ask.

“So good,” she replies in between bites. “So a fighter huh? How did you get into that?”

“It started with wrestling in high school and then I competed in college too. All the guys you’ve met? We’ve all been together since college and Jax’s grandfather was an MMA coach. He kind of got all of us involved in the sport when we were young. We’d go and work out at the gym – he owned it then – and started training us, and it kind of took on a life of its own. Every one of us ended up choosing to fight professionally, and we love it. I’m a fireman by day, and an MMA fighter by night.”

“Yes, I guess I momentarily forgot about your day job. That’s long hours isn’t it…and scary?”

“Nah, not really. I started volunteering while I was in college because a class I had required volunteer work. I liked it, then took classes that would be beneficial if I went in that direction. Anyway, I eventually applied, passed all the required written and physical ability tests, passed EMT training and received my certification. Then, I got through the interviews and was offered a full time job, and took it. It was an advantage having a connection, I must admit. It’s the perfect companion job to fighting because we have significant down time and a requirement to stay in shape so we lift a lot of weights and exercise as much as possible. And the hours? We typically work a 24 hour shift and then are off for 48 hours – so that works out real well too.”

“What types of calls do you get? What’s the scariest one you’ve gotten so far?”

“I’ve been lucky. We did have a near drowning child once, a five year old who found his way through what everyone thought was a closed and locked fence, but that was the worst. And he was revived immediately on the scene. Otherwise, there hasn’t been anything too bad. Let’s see…we’ve had house and structural fires, of course, and I’ve dealt with a car fire on the I-10 that had a strong chance for explosion. But we extinguished it. And of course there’s always routine vehicular accidents that require clean ups. One time we had to rescue a dog that somehow got caught in between the side springs of a sofa bed -that was wild - and while usually reserved for the police, a mom who accidentally locked her keys in the car before she got her toddler out and was an absolute wreck. It was in the middle of the summer – temps in the 100’s - so of course the inside of the car was really hot. That was a little worrying, but we got the little girl out right away and she was fine.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.”

“Definitely. No great stories to tell, really. At least not yet, which in my opinion is a good thing. I’ll take it.” My lack of bravado and show of slight humility is surprising even me. Usually I think of the worst calls I can recall and add a bit of drama for effect. But tonight, with her, I’m not interested in putting on a show.

We both eat quietly for a few moments and as we’re finishing up I decide to dive in and ask her a question that’s been on my mind. “So, I have to ask you a question about your comment yesterday. What was that all about?”

Her brow furrows in confusion, “Which comment was that?”

I hesitate for a minute wondering if I should have let it go for another time. Too late now, “Well, when you were confused about my wanting to take you out on a date and not sure why I would want to, you said that all men want is sex.”

“Oh, that.” She takes another drink of her beer and then sets it down seeming to take a moment before looking me in the eyes, “In my experience, that is all a man has ever wanted from me. One time I thought a relationship I was in, was more, but when it came to really knowing about
me
, he wasn’t interested. So really, no one has been interested in anything else. It’s all about what they can take from me, whether it’s physically, or emotionally. And I don’t think I am unique. There are plenty who experience the same thing. Let’s face it, men are usually selfish pigs.” She lifts one shoulder up in a half shrug, “So, I quit expecting anything else and instead decided to be the one to initiate what I wanted. There’s no reason to pretend anymore.”