One to Love (One to Hold #4) (11 page)

Inhaling a cleansing breath, I answered truthfully. “I think so.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “I mean, yesterday was hard. I’m still a little shook up, but I’m okay. I’m not hurt. It was a really close call, and I’m so thankful it wasn’t worse. But I’m okay.”

“Oh, god, Ken, I’m so sorry I left you alone.” She sounded near tears. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Pressing my eyes closed, I pushed back against self-pity. “You didn’t leave me alone, you were talking to Pete. I was the dumbass who left the bar with a total stranger. You’d think it was my first time out!”

“He seemed like a nice guy.”

Reflecting back, I remembered the signs I’d ignored. “He really wasn’t, but I was too drunk to pay attention. Or something.”

The one other time I’d been too drunk, I’d been lucky. Patrick was a great guy, and Lane was a surprise gift that I cherished so much. Tuesday, luck wasn’t on my side, and the message was I needed to grow up. Now.

“It was amazing Slayde was there, that he saved you like that.”

Thinking of him on the beach in the moonlight, that warmth stirred again in my chest. It was immediately replaced by humiliation. “Oh, god, I could die!” Pressing hand over my eyes, I fell back on the couch cringing. “I called him Batman. Then I asked him to show me his
moves
... I’m such an idiot!”

She struggled against her laughter. “You are not! It was sort of dark knight-ish the way he showed up and then ran off, and he does have moves. Hot and sexy ones.”

“I won’t blame him if he gives his two-weeks’ notice tomorrow. Between you doing sign language at him and me gushing all over him, he probably thinks we’re all nuts.”

She hummed. “I doubt it. You just let me know if anything happens in the morning.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

We said goodnight, and I dropped the phone. Thinking about what I’d said and talking to Slayde after work, a shy grin pulled at the corners of my mouth. I could feel the pink on my cheeks, and I dropped the remote on the couch cushion, going to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for sleep.

* * *

M
y shoulders fell when I pulled into the Jungle Gym parking lot at seven. Not a single car or truck was there. I fought against the pout pulling my bottom lip and went inside, snatching my key out of my cubby and heading toward the small boxing room in the back.

He said he wouldn’t train me. Why did I doubt his words? Besides, he probably had women lined up all over the place. He’d probably gone home with Darla last night and screwed her brains out.

The thought pissed me off. I jerked the gel gloves over my knuckles and stomped toward the hanging bag. When I got to it, I pulled back and hit it as hard as I could. Letting out a little growl, I hit it again with my other hand. Then I hit it harder. I hopped up and down, but I didn’t care about form. I just wanted to hit something. I pulled my fists back and hammered them one after the other against that stupid bag, letting out all the frustration I was feeling.

My long ponytail flipped around with every strike, getting caught in my arms. With another growl I stepped back and planted a roundhouse kick to the bag followed by a hard left jab. Then I did a fast combination.

Jab, cross, hook, front kick.

Jab, cross, hook, front kick.

Stupid hair getting in my way.

I stepped back and jerked a glove off with my teeth. Then I blinked, and my stomach jumped. Slayde was in the doorway, leaning against it, watching me intently.

Catching my breath, I took a step back. “I-I didn’t think you were coming.”

He shrugged and pushed himself upright. “This is when I normally come in.”

Of course it was. He always left early, which clearly meant he came in early. I was a self-centered little twit to think it had anything to do with me.

Still, he took a step in my direction. “Your speed and power are good, but your form is a mess.”

“I wasn’t really worried about form.”

“You should always worry about form.” His brow lowered. “How you practice is how you’ll fight.”

I couldn’t help a tiny smile at that. “But I’m not going to fight, remember? I’m going to carry mace or pepper spray.”

“And if he takes it from you? What then?” His blue eyes were so intense, I had to blink down.

“Hope for Batman?” My voice was soft, and I noticed his stance change.

He took a few steps toward the bag. “Batman’s a myth. I’ll show you how to throw a punch, but don’t get overconfident. The best defense is to stay alert and make smart choices.”

The pink was back on my cheeks, I was sure of it. Dumb choices were the reason I’d been on that beach Tuesday night, and I wasn’t about to forget it.

“Okay,” I said, taking a step toward him. “What do I do?”

“First, let me see how you hit.” He motioned, and I went to where he stood. “Stand in front of me and throw a punch.”

The heat of his body was like fire at my back. I tried to hide my rapid breathing, but I was sure he could hear my heartbeat thundering in my chest. It took a minute to remember what I was supposed to be doing.

“A right jab.” I moved my arm forward in slow motion.

“First off, you need to back up.” He stepped back, and when he touched my waist, I bit my lip to hold in a noise. “You should be more than arm’s length away. If you’re too close, you don’t have any mobility.”

“Okay,” I said, clearing my throat.
Get a grip, Kenny.

“You okay?” His voice had changed, and I glanced over my shoulder. Blue eyes hit me like a fist, and I blinked away fast. “Yeah. I was thinking I should’ve known that.”

“It’s a common error with beginners. I mean... It’s not like you’re born knowing these things.”

He sounded apologetic for calling me out. Which would be ridiculous—I
was
a beginner. I was also acting like a gooney teenager again.

With a deep breath, I straightened up. I’d show him what I could do. “Okay. So I’m out here, away from the bag. Now what?”

He seemed to relax a bit as well. “Give it a hit.”

Shooting my fist out, I hit the bag as hard as I could.

“Okay.” His voice was commanding, but gentle. “You want to strike with your first two knuckles. Drop your wrist just a bit so they align with your forearm. That way you won’t hurt yourself. Now try it again. Right, left.”

I dropped my wrist and punched again,
right-left
, following his direction, doing a little bounce without thinking.

“Good. Perfect.” Hearing the smile in his voice sent a flood of...
pride?
through my stomach.
Shake it off.

“Now the other thing.” He touched my elbows, and I jumped. “Sorry.” He was quick to back up.

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I was just—I didn’t expect you to... What were you going to say?”

This time he didn’t touch me, and I was sad. “You need to keep your elbows tighter. You’re fanning them up, like wings.”

“Okay.” I clutched my elbows to my ribs.

“And you need to keep your chin tucked, like this.” He stepped around so that he was facing me, lowering his chin so his blue eyes lasered into mine from under his furrowed brow. My stomach flipped.

“Like this?” I turned my face so my chin was pressed into the hollow of my shoulder, my eyes almost unbearably clashing with his under my lowered brow.

His throat moved, and it was almost as if
he
looked away this time. “That’s right. Now see how it feels to strike that way.”

I felt like Frankenstein moving my body stiffly towards the bag, elbows and chin tucked tightly down. Then I shot a fist forward, and he laughed. I’d never heard him laugh before. It sounded so good, low and ringing.

“You’ve got to loosen up some.”

Dropping my hands, I turned to face him, my face relaxing with my smile. “That’s a lot to remember all at once.”

He looked down, and I so wanted to run the tip of my finger down that line in the center of his chin.

“You’re right,” he said, those damn sexy dimples peeking out. “You don’t have to do it all now. Next time you train, keep it in mind and practice.”

“Okay.” I pushed my ponytail back over my shoulder. “And I’ll braid and loop this so it’s out of the way.”

His lips parted, and for a moment he hesitated. Then for whatever reason, he said what he was thinking. “I like your hair. It’s pretty.”

I fought the fire blazing in my cheeks. “Thanks. And thanks for helping me. I know you didn’t really want to—”

“It wasn’t that.” He retreated to the door. I could see the invisible wall going back up, and I hated it. Yet, it was something I understood so well. “I don’t mind giving you some tips.”

“Well... Whatever you did, it really helped me. Thanks.”

He blinked and waved. “I gotta get to work. Take it easy.”

With that, he was gone, and the entire room felt empty without him. My arms dropped, and I stared at the space where he’d been. He thought my hair was pretty. I grinned like an idiot and pulled my troublesome ponytail over my shoulder.

“What is your story, Slayde Bennett?” I whispered. “Could you be just as scarred as I am?”

––––––––

S
he hit the bags like she was fighting something invisible, like she was beating the shit out of it. She was so beautiful, and I understood that feeling so well.

Her small body moved with controlled grace even if her strikes were out of line and her ribs unprotected. She was passionate, and I loved the little noises she made every time her fists made contact with the heavy bag. I couldn’t help wondering if she made those sounds when she fucked.

Made love
. This was a making love kind of woman. And that’s where
I
was fucked. I had absolutely nothing to offer a making love kind of woman.

Still, I watched her, thinking about the loveliest music I’d ever heard. Her pale, slim neck, her petite fists driving with such force. She stepped back with a cute, frustrated growl, jerking a glove off with her teeth, and that’s when she saw me.

I played it off, making up some story like the reason I was there was work. Nothing could have kept me from going to her this morning. I wanted to train her. Then I had to touch her, and it was almost more than I could take.

“Keep your elbows tighter, and your chin tucked into your shoulder.” I’d tried to show her the basics without getting lost in her eyes, but it was a fight I wouldn’t win.

Once she seemed to understand, I took my one opening to get out of there. I needed to get the ladies’ locker room cleaned up anyway. If I wasted any more time, Tammy would hassle me. It was always friendly, but it was still hassling.

Leaving her felt like taking a blunt knife and carving out my insides, but I ignored that shit. What right did I have to feel this way? I had toilets to clean.

* * *

A
white envelope taunted me from my mail slot. Payday. Lunch would be more than PB on white bread today, and my mouth watered at the thought. I paid Rook back what I owed him, which turned out to be less than seventy-five bucks. Damn, I was a cheap date. Then I headed down to the waterfront where food trucks were waiting. I ordered up a falafel with hot sauce and went to sit on one of the benches. Pulling out my burner phone, I checked in with Doc. It had been more than a week, and I was sure he was curious.

“Hey, kid!” He laughed, and the sound of his voice eased the mixed-up feelings in my chest. “How was your first week back?”

Swallowing the bite of food, I answered. “Better than expected. I’m sure you’re feeling smug right now hearing me say that.”

“Not at all.” I could almost see his lip-less grin behind the salt and pepper scruff. “I’ll be honest, I said a few prayers for you last week.”

“What? No mantras? You back to hitting your knees?”

“Sure as shittin’ I am,” he laughed. “And you’d be smart to do the same every now and then.”

Putting my food aside, I leaned forward, rubbing the back of my neck as I thought. “I’ve considered it.”

“What happened?” His tone was serious, just like it always was with me, and damn, I appreciated having a good friend more than I could say in that moment.

“I lucked into a pretty good job. No background checks or references.” I took a moment to think about how I wanted to frame Rook. “My boss is a former baller. He knew guys who’d fucked up their lives, he said, and he gave me a chance.”

“There are still good people in the world, Slayer.”

For a moment, I hesitated. “I’m not going by that name anymore. I’m Slayde now.”

“Okay.” Doc waited for me to take control of my story.

“I got a shithole of an apartment, but it’s on the beach.” Looking up, I appreciated the clear view I had of the horizon. “At night I can walk down by the water’s edge. I don’t know. It’s therapeutic.”

“That’s a proven fact.”

“Something happened.” I needed to share this with him. I needed him to know. “Three nights ago, I was walking and I heard a girl... a guy was hurting her.”

The line was silent, and I knew he was waiting for me to say the worst.

“I wasn’t really thinking, I just heard her screaming and I reacted.” Everything faded to the memory, and in that moment I was alone, on that bench, telling my story. “It wasn’t premeditated, I just had to stop him. So I hit the guy hard. Twice.”

Continued silence greeted me on the other end of the line.

“She was okay. She
is
okay.” Looking at the back of my hand, I made a fist. “He was okay, too. I heard him making noises before I ran. She got away from him...”

“Sounds like there’s more to this story.” Cautious optimism was in his voice. “How do you know she got away?”

“She works at the gym with me. She’s one of the trainers.” I tried to keep all emotion out of my voice, but it didn’t make a difference to someone who knew me as well as Doc.

“Must be a special lady.”

Coming so close to naming it made me back away. “She’s special. For somebody. I’m not looking to start any drama.”

A chuckle was in my friend’s voice. “Just because drama is all you’ve ever known doesn’t mean it’s the normal state of affairs. Remember what I told you.”