by EMILIE ROSE
“I’m glad you did.”
“You would say that. You’d probably thank me for a punch in the mouth.” He gave a humorless chuckle.
She smacked him in the arm. “Only because I’d learn how to duck it and punch you right back.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the hollows of his eyes. “Look, I can’t talk about this stuff, Bella. I don’t even know why I told you. All this touchy-feely crap...it’s not who I am.”
“If you can’t talk to me about it, we can find someone—”
“I’m not going to a shrink.”
“A counselor, then. I bet Reta could recommend someone.”
“I don’t think so. Leave it alone.”
“Kyle, you can’t sleep in your own home. You have intimacy issues, and you’re averse to physical contact with strong women. I’m no psychologist, but I’d say you have things you need to work out, preferably with a professional.”
“I am working them out,” he snapped.
Bella wanted to shake sense into him. But arguing wasn’t going to solve anything. The harder she pushed, the more stubborn he’d become.
Unstoppable force, meet unmovable object.
She couldn’t be the aggressor. She couldn’t tackle his problems head-on and pin them down the way she usually did with any challenge she was presented with.
It was time to try something new. Something unexpected.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHRISTMAS SUCKED.
And not just because Kyle was alone in his house, but because he’d insisted on being left alone to wallow in his misery.
After his morning run, he’d spent the day reading a thriller—doing paperwork for the gym felt a little too Ebenezer Scrooge even for him. He watched a couple of Christmas specials on TV, then called his mother and sister to wish them a happy holidays.
“I really wish you’d come home,” Holly Peters said. “We could’ve had a real turkey with all the trimmings, the way we used to. Your father always loved Christmas dinner....” She sighed. “What are you having, dear?”
He glanced at the box of spring mix garden salad he’d bought. “Oh, you know. Ham and mashed potatoes and gravy. Crawfish and corn. An authentic Big Easy Christmas.”
Thinking about it made his mouth water, but he’d committed to eating a little healthier—he’d been having takeout way too often, and it was beginning to show.
“He’s probably having a Hungry Man while he watches the Charlie Brown Christmas special,” Jess said on the other line. “You’re missing out, squirt. Organic Cornish game hens are all the rage in L.A.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll survive.” Truth was, he’d stayed in town because he didn’t want to face his family.
Since telling Bella his darkest secret, he’d been moody—and he was pretty sure he didn’t have the patience for his mom and sister right now. He could predict exactly what would’ve happened if he’d gone home. Jess would ask after Bella, speculating about their relationship, and when he got snippy, his mother and sister would only interrogate him further. He’d end up storming off and ruining Christmas. It was best not to expose anyone to that.
After hanging up, he sat down to dinner in front of his TV. He took one look at his wilting salad and set it aside. Why had he turned down all those invitations to join people for Christmas? What was he trying to prove?
Bella’s words from earlier that week rang in his ears. Apparently, he was trying to prove he was an unfriendly, brooding asshole.
He pushed up off the couch. There were a dozen different ways he could be spreading good cheer, doing things people normally did over the holidays. He wouldn’t sit and sulk the way Dad used to when he didn’t get his way. He grabbed his jacket and keys and headed out.
He drove the mostly deserted streets—apparently even the most hard core partygoers stayed home on Christmas. A couple of bars and restaurants were still open, though, catering to tourists and guys like him who couldn’t get home for the holidays. He was lucky enough to have family, friends...but he’d pushed them all away. And for what? To show everyone he could take care of himself?
He found himself parked outside the Touchstone youth center. Muscle memory had guided him here, apparently. The lights were on inside, and he remembered that the center was hosting Christmas dinner.
He felt like a heel for being so petulant.
During those long nights waiting for Andre with Jerome and his crew, he’d learned a lot about where these young people came from. Life had treated them rough. Some had come from horrible home situations and had had to do some awful things in order to survive. Yet the staff didn’t judge them. They gave them the help they needed and fostered their dreams of the future in any way they could.
Harsh as his father had been, Kyle couldn’t compare his upbringing to theirs. He didn’t even like to think that any of his problems measured up to the everyday challenges kids like Shawnese faced. It was hard to remember why he’d been so hesitant to host the self-defense class in the first place. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to relate to their plight.
Kyle released a breath as he finally admitted the truth to himself. Bella was right about the way he’d helped Shawnese—he was compensating for something.
He walked into the center and followed the delicious smells wafting down the institutional-looking hallways to a big room bustling with activity.
He scanned the room and was taken aback when he met Bella’s wide green eyes.
“What are you doing here?” His heart tumbled strangely seeing her in a bright red boat-necked top and black dress pants. Large gold hoop earrings dangled from her ears. Her hair hung down and had been straightened. His lips inched up in an involuntary smile. “I thought you were spending Christmas at Liz’s,” he said.
“I was.” She set down a large bowl of salad and tugged at his sleeve and pointed. “Look who gave me a call.”
Behind her at a table with several other people sat Shawnese, smiling and laughing as they ate soup and salad appetizers.
“She called to say Merry Christmas,” Bella said. “We talked for an hour. She’s doing much better.”
Shawnese looked up and caught his eye. Her smile widened and she greeted him with a lift of her chin.
“Aren’t you giving up your Christmas dinner?” He looked at his watch and was surprised to find it was still early. Had he really sat down to his sad salad dinner before six?
“Liz and I were baking all day, and by the end, we had all these pies and only five people to eat them. I can’t even have any.” She pouted. “As soon as I heard Shawnese was here, I wanted to see her. Liz drove me out and her parents insisted we bring what we could to share, so here we are.” She pointed with her tongs. Liz stood in the serving line, dishing out pieces of pumpkin pie.
“She’s a saint,” Reta said as she flitted by with a tray of drinks. “Merry Christmas, Kyle. Won’t you join us?”
Kyle shucked his jacket. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to help.”
Reta’s face lit up. “Aprons and hairnets are behind the counter. We’ve got mashed potatoes in a big pot on the stove that will need to be served.”
Kyle’s spirits picked up as he helped the other volunteers with the heavy lifting. Jerome and his friends showed up, and after they’d all had a helping of turkey and stuffing, potatoes, string beans, rolls and more pie, they played board games, shared a few laughs and had some good conversation.
Kyle discovered his melancholy had evaporated. He really had been a jerk. He’d call his mom again tonight and apologize for his behavior. He promised himself, too, that he’d go and visit her as soon as he could.
“You’re in a good mood.” Bella handed him a cup of eggnog. She drank herbal tea, he noticed. What a sucky time to go on a diet. She hadn’t eaten much more than a bowl of salad and a ti
ny portion of dry-looking breast meat for dinner.
“The day started out kind of awful for me, I admit. But it got better the minute I stepped foot in here and saw you.”
Her lips pursed into a bashful smile. She squeezed his thigh, and a tingle went through him. If there’d been a bunch of mistletoe hanging somewhere, he would’ve had the perfect excuse to kiss her. And then he realized he really did want to kiss her.
“Kyle?” Shawnese approached them timidly. The bruises and swelling in her face were gone, but her hands remained hidden beneath fingerless gloves. “It’s so great to see you two. I was going to leave these with Ms. Reta, but now I can give them to both of you.” She pulled out a couple of packages from a plastic shopping bag. “It’s nothing fancy. I mean, I made them. Part of my rehab.” She flexed her stiff fingers.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Kyle said, but took the little drawstring pouch from her. He opened it and drew out a small carved wood cross on a leather thong. The word HERO was burned across the lintel.
His eyes stung, and his throat worked hard over a lump.
“I heard...well, maybe I didn’t hear nothin’ about it at all, but I want to say thank-you for what you did.”
“Thank you. This is...more than I deserve.” Kyle got up and hugged Shawnese.
The young woman turned to Bella and handed her a gift bag. “I made something for you, too.”
It was an adorable hand-sewn voodoo doll with a big bobble head. It made Bella laugh, and she cuddled it against her cheek. Kyle couldn’t help but smile...and feel a little jealous of the doll.
“I thought you could name her Ayumi,” Shawnese said with a grin. “Treat her rough, but not too rough.”
“I love it. Thank you, Shawnese.”
They left shortly after that. Liz invited Kyle back to her parents’. With both Liz and Bella insisting, he couldn’t refuse. At the house, Mrs. Gonçalves fussed over her daughter’s boss, heaping his plate full even though he’d already eaten, primly informing him that it was his duty to make up for Bella’s uneaten portion. After coffee and dessert, they said good-night and Kyle volunteered to drive Bella home.
“That was really nice,” he said sincerely, cruising along the quiet streets. To think he’d been prepared to spend the whole evening alone.
“I’m glad you came out. I was worried you’d be at home moping.”
“I was.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m glad I got to see you tonight.”
He pulled up outside of her place and shut off the engine. A beat of silence passed between them before she cleared her throat.
“I have a gift for you,” she said. “It’s upstairs. Do you want to come up?”
Kyle’s chest lurched. He wanted to go up there. He really did. But he couldn’t bear another humiliating moment like he’d had in Vegas.
“Just for a moment. And just for the gift. I promise.” She said it as though she were coaxing a scared animal from a cage.
He relaxed his white-knuckled grip from around the steering wheel. He was being ridiculous. It was Christmas. Bella wasn’t going to hurt him.
That’s when it hit him. Bella wasn’t going to hurt him.
He got out of the car, forcing one foot ahead of the other as he followed her up the stairs. “I only found it late on Christmas Eve,” she explained. “And then I wasn’t sure I should give it to you.”
“You didn’t need to get me anything.” He hadn’t done more than write cards for his staff. He’d been adamant that they save their money for gifts for their families, or else donate to charity.
“I know, but I wanted to.” She unlocked the door and let him in. His arm brushed against her chest as he passed, sending a thrill up his spine. “Can I offer you a cup of tea? Coffee?”
“Thanks, no.” Though the idea of sticking around did appeal to him. Maybe he should accept something so he’d have an excuse to linger.
Before he could change his mind, she grabbed a plastic bag off the dining table and brought it to him. “Sorry. I didn’t wrap it.”
He reached in and pulled out a scroll tied with twine. He untied it and unrolled the thick paper.
“‘Kishi Kaisei,’” he read the kanji aloud.
“You can read Japanese?”
“I studied in Kyoto for a year,” he explained. “This phrase was on a banner posted in the dojo I trained in.”
“The sales guy told me it means ‘Wake from death and return to life.’ He told me it’s really about getting out of desperate situations in one sudden burst. I thought it might be appropriate for your office.”
He grinned. “This is great. Thank you, Bella.” He leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek, but he changed his mind at the last minute and aimed for her lips.
It probably wasn’t professional, but damn, it felt good. And he was tired of doing what he thought was right. That hadn’t always been him. Her hands slid up around his shoulders as the kiss deepened. But along with the surge of lust came a longing that seemed to climb through him from deep down.
She broke the kiss first and stepped back, smiling hugely. “That was nice,” she said.
Kyle was at once insulted and abashed. Most women he’d kissed usually begged for more. They didn’t say it had been nice.
He wanted to show her he was more than nice.
“It’s getting late.” She glanced pointedly at the clock. “I need to call my family before I go to bed.”
“Of course. Thank you for this.” He held the scroll close to his chest. Held her hand. Willed her to ask him to stay. The invitation hung between them, but she didn’t ask.
Instead, she led him to the door, held it open.
“Merry Christmas.” He leaned in again. He just wanted a peck. A friendly touch of her lips.
She pulled back before it became more, desire smoldering in her eyes. “Good night, Kyle.”
He stepped out, and she closed the door after him.
Damn. He hadn’t thought he could desire her after what they’d been through. Clomping back down to his car, though, he realized Bella was the only thing he’d really wanted for Christmas.
* * *
BELLA LOVED THE first Monday in January after the holidays. It felt like newness to her. A sense of being reborn. She didn’t make resolutions, but she had a lot to look forward to, and had a lot of hard work ahead of her to get there.
Well, there was one resolution she’d made. She glanced at Kyle and sighed. He still hadn’t made a move. The move.
After Christmas, they’d seen each other at a New Year’s party at The Spot, but hadn’t talked much with all the loud music and dancing. She’d purposefully kept her distance. She knew that whatever she felt for him—whether it was lust or something more—she couldn’t act on it. He had to come to her. And for someone who was used to actively pursuing her men, it made her crazy to stand by and watch him flounder.
They were attracted to each other—that went without a doubt. That kiss in her apartment, chaste as it was, had nearly set her pants on fire. And she could see he’d wanted more, but after she’d gently broken away, he hadn’t reached for her, hadn’t wrapped her up in his arms, hadn’t even asked to stay. Maybe he was waiting for her to make the next move, but she couldn’t. Not in this case.
She laughed at herself bitterly. She felt about as flighty as she had in her senior year of high school, with prom and graduation on the horizon and a complete inability to focus on one or the other. The fight was six weeks away, and Bella had only dropped three pounds. Kyle drove her hard, and the rest of the trainers made sure she went home exhausted every day. But she still had seven more pounds to go.
Wayne was especially attentive whenever he was around—which she really appreciated. But she’d noticed the boxing coach had been sick a lot. The others joked that he was a big b
aby, but watching him move stiffly around, she wondered how no one else saw that Wayne was in a lot of pain.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m just getting old.”
“Have you seen a doctor about the migraines?” It was his most frequent complaint.
“Dozens of them. I have prescriptions for everything—painkillers, acupuncture, massage, chiropractic and naturopathic medicine. Anything they can think of to manage the pain short of doping me up. I don’t want to take anything I don’t have to.” He rubbed his temple. “I’ve had all kinds of tests, too—CAT scans, MRIs. Everyone’s worried I’m going to have a stroke or something. All those years fighting, I got beat around the noggin a lot. They haven’t found anything injury related, though.” He chuckled. “Even if I’d known this would happen, I wouldn’t have given any of it up. That’s the price of glory. This—” he indicated his worn-out body “—is just a thing that happens. Not much I can do about it.”
“There has to be something.”
He gave her a compassionate look. “Kid, some hurts you gotta live with. Most people don’t understand that kind of pain. They don’t understand till it happens to them.”
* * *
KYLE BRACED HIMSELF behind the large rectangular striking pad, absorbing Bella’s blows, but her strikes barely connected.
“C’mon, Bella, you can hit harder,” Wayne said. “Kyle’s not that big a guy. Look at him. A stiff breeze could knock him over.”
She repeated the striking pattern. Kyle shrank further behind the pad, expecting the jabs to shake his bones. They barely made him shudder.
“Hit him like he’s done you wrong,” the boxing coach shouted. “Hit him like he deserves it. C’mon, do you think Kamikaze Kamino’s gonna go easy on you?”
The halfhearted one-two had Kyle slackening his grip.
“Stop, stop, stop.” Wayne frowned sharply. “Kyle, was she hitting hard enough?”
“Barely.” Somehow, it felt like it was his fault.
Wayne took the pad from him. “Okay, I don’t like doing this, but you leave me no choice.” He faced her with the pad. “You hit like a girl.” He quickly ducked behind the pad.
