Full Contact (Worth the Fight #2) (16 page)

“I
want
to take care of you, Jess.”

Jessica closed her eyes and pushed the plate aside. She took a deep breath and released it. “Slade…”

He saw her face and knew what was coming. “Don’t say it, Jessica. Just…don’t.”

“I have to say it, Slade. I just…” She paused, noticing two sunflowers in a vase on the table. “Where’d those come from?” she asked as she walked over, grabbed the vase, and tossed the whole thing into the garbage.

“They were on the ground outside by your front door last night. No vase, no bow, no card. I almost threw them out because I know you hate them.” He looked at the garbage can. “Guess I should’ve thrown ’em out.”

Dennis had seen them together. That was his warning.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Slade…I’ll be gone soon. Thank you for taking care of me last night, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I don’t want to start something that’s going to make it harder for me to leave.”

“So don’t leave.”

“I have to.”

“You don’t.” Slade looked around and saw the two boxes in the corner. “You’ve barely started packing.”

“I only have a few more days left at work and then I’ll finish packing and leave. I tried to tell Patsy I could only give her two weeks’ notice, but she insisted she needed me longer.”

Slade pushed himself off the bed. “Damn it, Jessica, you don’t have to go. I know I fucked up. I said hurtful things. I’m a dick. I get it. But I didn’t mean to be a dick, and normally I’m not.”

“It’s not just that, Slade.”

“Then why?”

“I have to go, Slade. I just do. I have things I want to do and I can’t do them here.”

“The yoga studio?”

“Yes. For starters. And also I don’t have anyone here anymore. I came here because of Dennis, and now he’s gone. Time for me to move on and get my life in order. Not to mention I obviously have jealousy issues, and I can’t deal with that. There are too many things.” She was pacing the room.

“You know what? I’m sick of hearing you say that, Jessica, and even though right now you’re pissing me the hell off, I’m going to keep fighting for us. I’m not giving up, even if I have to chase you all the way to Charlotte.”

“Can’t we just be friends? Please? I thought we agreed to be friends.”

Slade shook his head as he dressed and made his way out of her bedroom. “Yeah, Jessica. We’ll be friends. You and I, we’ll be friends. I call you, you avoid me, we don’t see each other or talk. Friends. Great.” He stomped out, and then she heard the front door open and slam close.

She grabbed the plate and threw it against the wall. It broke into a million little pieces, just like her heart. Fucking Dennis and his threat. It was destroying her, and now it was hurting Slade, a man who had done more for her than anyone ever had. Why did it all have to be so complicated? She couldn’t stay with him, knowing that loving him could destroy him. She crumpled into her bed and cried—for the pain she felt letting him walk out, for the guilt she felt about pushing him away, for all she’d put up with from Dennis, and for the control he still held over her. But most of all, she sobbed agonizingly for the love that would never be.

For the rest of the day she filled boxes with her belongings. When evening came and she surveyed the stacks of boxes in her house, the reality of the situation set in. Soon she wouldn’t be seeing Slade Martin anymore.

Slade started his day with his Peeping Tom activities at the Om Spot again. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but he just couldn’t help himself. The Om Spot would be closing in two days, and soon after that Jessica would be leaving. Things were changing, and it all seemed out of his control. With a last look in the window at Jessica, he went straight over to the Academy. Fighting had always been a constant in his life, the thing that had always managed to take the edge off, but that was gone now. It had been months since his last fight—the fight that had completely screwed him up. According to the doctors, one more concussion and he was likely done for, a vegetable. As it was, his hands shook slightly from time to time and his memory had gone to shit. Early signs of dementia—that’s what the doctors had called it. But, the doctors had also said that those symptoms could reverse over time.

He still missed fighting. He’d started boxing at sixteen years old with Jack, which had led to backyard MMA fights. And now, at thirty-three, he’d been fighting more than half his life. He loved the adrenaline rush that came with it, and the intensity of training. He was looking forward to being instrumental to the next generation of fighters by training them, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t long to be up there in the cage himself.

Fighting had been his entire life for so long that the only reason he hadn’t fallen into a real depression after being told he couldn’t fight anymore was the time he’d spent helping Jessica recover. But now that she had recovered—and kicked him to the curb—his mind needed something to fill the huge void. He knew the Academy would eventually keep him busy and fulfilled, but until the remodeling was finished and he could actually take on a full slate of training, he had to do something. To make a shitty situation even shittier, with the Academy in its current state, he couldn’t even use it to work out his aggression. Until the renovations were finished, the gym was limited and just plain uncomfortable. A few punching bags hung by boxes of lighting fixtures that needed to be installed. The free weights were full of dust from the construction. His haven was in a state of chaos. And then there was Jessica. He couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind.

He decided to go for a long, mind-numbing run. He popped his earbuds in, slid a beanie on his head to keep his hair from sticking to his face, cranked up the music, and hit the pavement. An hour later, when he finished running, the empty void that sat in the pit of his stomach was still there.

He spent the rest of his day literally hammering out his stress, working on the renovations at the Academy for the next six hours until his muscles shook and his hands cramped from gripping the hammer for so long.

“Hey. You know we have a crew coming later this week to finish that up, right?”

Slade wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before looking up at Francesca.

“Frances, hey. Yeah, I know. Just needed to blow off some steam. I didn’t see you come in.”

She was standing amid a mass of boxed equipment, dust, and power tools, wearing a tight light blue dress, a jacket, and super high heels. She grabbed an empty white bucket, flipped it over, and sat down, crossing her long legs. “You were so in your head, I didn’t want to bother you. I’ve been in the office for the last hour. You okay?”

“Aren’t you hot in that jacket?”

“It’s a blazer.”

“I don’t even know what that means, but whatever it is, aren’t you hot?”

Francesca laughed. “Yeah, I am. But it’s professional-lo
oking.”

Slade looked around the empty room. “Who you tryin’ to look professional for?”

Francesca disregarded his question. “So? Are you?”

“Am I what?” He lifted the bottom of his white tank top and wiped his forehead again.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He stood and began to put away his tools.

“Not big on talking ’bout your emotions, I see.”

“You shouldn’t come here dressed like that, Frances. You can get hurt. There are nails all over the place and it’s dusty. You’ll break an ankle with those shoes.”

“Deflecting, I see.” Then she mumbled in Portuguese,
“Homens!”

“I’m not deflecting. I just don’t have a problem. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Really?” She smiled. “Have a good night, Slade.” She sauntered off after giving him a quick wink, and as she left he heard her mutter,
“Pedaça de merda!”

“Stop insulting me in Portuguese!” he yelled, but she’d already left.

Slade went to the office, grabbed some of the clean clothes he kept there, and headed for the locker room, which was thankfully in working order. He took a quick shower and changed to go out. After the day he’d had, he needed a drink or ten.

He walked into the Pier and automatically felt his shoulders drop and the tension begin to roll off his back. He’d been coming to this bar for as long as he could remember—first with Chrissy and their dad for the best popcorn shrimp in town, and then when he became old enough to drink, this had quickly become his favorite hangout with Jack and his buddies. It was almost like his second home. He walked toward the pretty, tattooed pixie-like woman leaning against the bar.

“Hey, JL, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Hey, sugar. Nothing much happening here. Except I can’t get this shell off this damn peanut and I’m starved.” She grunted, threw the peanut back into the basket, and looked up at Slade. “You look like you need a drink. What can I get ya?”

“The coldest beer you have on tap.”

“Sure thing, hon.”

Jamie Lynn turned around to get him his drink. Slade grabbed a peanut, shelled it, and whistled to Jamie Lynn before throwing the nut to her. She caught it quickly, and popped it in her mouth. “Thanks,” she said with a smile.

Slade rested his forearms on the bar top as he played with a napkin, ate some peanuts, drank his beer, and thought about Jessica’s ass.

What the hell was going on with him and Jessica’s ass? He wasn’t even an ass man. Everyone knew that about him. Hell, he knew that about himself. But her ass seemed to be everywhere! As if he hadn’t had enough of it that day, there she was, bent over, pool stick in hand, looking aloof and carefree. He came in to unwind at the Pier on a Wednesday night after busting his ass all day, and even there he couldn’t escape Jessica’s goddamn ass.

Three men hovered around her. He stared from across the room for a few minutes before hearing a familiar deep voice with a Southern drawl. He had been so focused on Jessica’s ass, he hadn’t bothered to look at who the three men were.

“Son of a motherfucker!” Slade hissed. He sat back and watched Jessica play pool with none other than Travis. Was the guy everywhere? Slade was
this close
to firing his cowboy ass. Okay, the guy was great with the fighters, working them out like no one else, but damned if he wasn’t getting on Slade’s last nerve. He also saw Cain leaning against the back wall, pool stick in his hand, looking at his woman’s derriere with a smirk. His woman, as in Jessica. A sudden urge to pound his fists against his chest and proclaim her as his surged through him.

But what really made him see red was watching Tony lean over next to Jessica, showing her how to position the balls on the pool table. Jessica smiled up at the fighter, and that was it.

He scraped the barstool back and stood. A hand touched his shoulder and a husky voice, with a hint of amusement, said, “Don’t mess up my bar, boy.” Slade looked behind him to see Jett sitting next to him. Jett was in his mid-fifties, with long hair that was now more white than blond, skin that had seen too much sun over the years and looked more like tanned leather than skin, a thick handlebar mustache, and a Hawaiian shirt. The man looked like he belonged in Key West with Jimmy Buffett. In fact, Jett looked like he’d own a bar like the Pier. But while Jett spent most of his time sitting around talking to the customers and drinking beer, his wife, Patsy, did most of the work. In a long, flowy dress, her straight blond hair always loose, she looked more like a flower child from the sixties than a bar owner. She was always behind the bar or tending tables. But she did it with a smile and was warm and sweet to everyone.

“Leave the boy alone, Jett.”

“How you doin’, Patsy?” Slade asked, leaning over to give Patsy a kiss on the cheek. He’d known them all his life. In fact, he knew most everyone in Tarpon Springs.

“Oh, you know me, honey. I’m great.” She put down the rag she had in her hand and glanced over at Jessica. “Ain’t she just cute as a button?”

Slade looked back to Patsy. “Who, Jess?”

“Of course, Jessica. She’s our best employee, ya know? The guys are giving her a little farewell toast. She’s only working a couple more days. Sure goin’ to miss her. She’s something else, that girl.”

“Yeah, she’s something else,” Slade responded.

“We’re grateful to you and your sister for all you did to help her. Look at her smile. The light had gone out of her eyes for a while there, but she’s back. Thank the Lord!” Patsy tapped Slade’s shoulder before she went back to wiping down tables.

“She sure is something else,” Slade repeated under his breath before pushing himself off the stool and stalking his way to the back.

“Wait!” Jamie Lynn called. “Give this to my brother, will ya?” She handed Slade a second beer.

When he neared the pool table, he shoved the beer at Travis.

“From your sister,” Slade said. Travis looked up and gave Jamie Lynn a nod across the room.

When Jessica saw Slade, her demeanor changed immediately. He didn’t like seeing her carefree attitude disappear, replaced by tension. Knowing he was somehow the cause of that change made it even worse. But worst of all was seeing Tony showing her how to play pool, her ass backed up against Tony’s dick. Slade groaned and downed the rest of his beer.

He leaned back, arms crossed, watching as Jessica tapped the white ball with her cue but missed the ball she was aiming for.

“Mujer!
You have to aim.” Tony squeezed Jessica’s shoulder.

Jessica looked up in confusion.

“Woman.
Mujer
is ‘woman.’ Don’t you know any Spanish?
Dios mio!
” Tony replied.

A group of three men who had been sitting nearby stood and walked over to the table. “Mind if we join you?”

“We’re just having some fun here,” Travis replied.

“Si,”
Tony replied. “Just teaching this pretty lady how to play pool.”

“We’re not so good either. We’ll just play for fun,” one of the men insisted. He wore a black Stetson, similar to the one that Travis wore. He was tall, but not as tall as Slade, Cain, or Travis. “I’m Rob. This is Phil, and his brother Tim.”

Travis shook hands and introduced everyone. “I’m Travis, this is Cain and Tony, and this beautiful little darlin’ here is Jessica. The broody bastard over there,” Travis added, pointing, “is Slade.”

“Hi, gentlemen,” Jessica said, and smiled.

“Always a pleasure to watch a beautiful woman play some pool.”

Slade moved closer to Jessica, his neck corded and his posture stiff. “Especially one who keeps shaking her ass for the entire bar to see,” he muttered, loud enough for Jessica to hear.

“Hey, man. Careful.” Cain took a step forward. Cain’s unexpected protectiveness of Jessica only made Slade that much angrier.

Jessica put her pool stick down and crossed her arms. “What the hell’s your problem, Slade?”

Slade looked around. All eyes were now on him. He needed to control his temper. “Sorry, Jess. Just…” He shook his head. “Sorry.”

Travis, always one to lighten the mood, said, “So, you guys want to go first?”

“How ’bout a friendly wager?” Phil, the shortest of the three, suggested. “Three hundred bucks.”

All the men looked at one another and shrugged. “Sure,” Tony answered.

“Aww. I was having so much fun,” Jessica pouted.

“Well, hell, I don’t want to see a lady as lovely as you sad. I don’t mind if she plays,” Rob said.

“I’m sure you don’t. She fuckin’ sucks,” Travis blurted out.

“Hey!” Jessica shrieked.

“
Cariño,
you are beautiful, but Texas is right. You suck.”

Jessica looked utterly shocked by the news, which surprised Slade, being as she really did suck and a person should know when she was that bad at something. Apparently Jessica didn’t.

“Screw it. What’s three hundred bucks? I’m cool if she plays,” Travis said.

Cain and Tony shrugged, and Jessica squealed.

“No. She’s not playing.” Slade reached for her forearm and pulled her back.

“The hell I’m not!” She shifted abruptly, and he let go.

“Don’t mind them. Just a little lovers’ quarrel,” Travis said to the strangers.

While the men set up the table and decided who would break, Jessica pulled Slade aside.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Slade?” she whispered furiously.

“Jessica…” He wasn’t sure exactly what else to say. He couldn’t continue asking her out, since she had obviously made up her mind, but damned if he didn’t want to get on his knees and beg her to stay.

As if she was reading his mind, she said, “You’re so…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Intense. You make it so hard for me.”