This time, it was Mike’s turn to stumble, but Jami didn’t stop there. Seeing his opening, he dove low, catching Mike around the waist and driving him into the canvas. Using Mike’s arm as leverage, he folded it across Mike’s neck and pushed.
“Time!”
Pushing to his feet, Jami extended his hand and helped his partner to his feet. “Good match,” he said, clapping the man on the back.
Tipping his head to him, Mike said, “Yeah, man, you, too,” then parted the ropes and slipped from the ring.
Jami followed, jumping to the floor and scooping up a bottle of water. Tipping it back, he guzzled it in seconds.
“Spencer mentioned you were getting cozy with a girl last night,” Don said casually, handing Jami a towel.
Jami repressed a groan as he ran the towel down his face and chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Don’s tone suggested he wasn’t too pleased. “Is that why you’re training like shit this morning?”
“Over a girl?” Jami asked, his voice shaking with incredulous laughter as he placed himself in front of the heavy bag and got into position. “Don, you know me. When was the last time I let a girl get inside my head?” The very idea that Alyson was inside of his was ludicrous. That he’d made it into the gym before the sun cast its first glow in the sky this morning—because thoughts of her had wormed their way into his head—had no bearing on the matter. She was an old friend who had shown up out of the blue, and he was excited to see her. It didn’t have to be anything more than that, and Don trying to make it into more was pissing him off.
Standing with his legs wide, Don gripped the bag and braced himself for the first punch. His voice bore a slight strain as Jami began a series of swift strikes. “Never, but there’s a first time for everything.”
“True,” Jami said, bringing his knee up and into the side of the bag, “but not this time.”
“So there is a girl?” Don asked. He fell back a step as Jami pounded out his aggression.
“Just a friend who happens to be a girl.” With one final blow, Jami managed to set Don back a step, and frankly, it felt damn good.
Bending at the waist, Don scooped up Jami’s used towels and empty water bottle from the floor. “I hope that’s all she is,” he replied gruffly. “With your schedule, you don’t have the luxury of distraction, and I don’t have to tell you that a female is the very definition of a distraction, do I?”
Standing back, Jami propped his fists on his hips and tilted his face to the ceiling, breathing deeply as he tried to regain his breath and his composure. He was hot, sweaty, and tired after nearly four hours of conditioning, and he was in no mood for lectures. What he did with his life was his business and his alone. “No, Coach,” Jami sighed. Passing him a tired smile, Jami cupped his shoulder firmly. “I’m gonna hit the showers. Catch you tomorrow?”
“You know I’ll be here, son.”
As soon as Jami turned his back, his smile melted and his gaze strayed toward the door. Where was she? And why did he feel like he was about to lose his shit if she didn’t show up? A million thoughts were racing through his head. Why hadn’t she called? Was she in trouble? What if her car broke down? He should have told her he’d pick her up.
Frustrated with himself, Jami decided to take an extra-long shower, determined to prove to himself that he wasn’t letting some girl get into his head. He wasn’t that guy, and she was just Alyson.
Sexy Alyson Blake, who he had spent half the night having the most meaningful conversation with than any woman—or man—before her, and the first half of the following morning thinking about.
The sting of anger began to prickle beneath his skin—anger that Alyson had stood him up, and anger with himself for caring in the first place.
Turning the water off, Jami scrubbed a towel over his head and body, and then dressed quickly, eager to get the hell out of there. When his bag was packed with his sweaty clothes, he swung the duffle over his shoulder and stormed from the locker room.
The sweet sound of her voice stopped him dead. “I was supposed to meet him here earlier, but something came up.”
“Ally.” At the sound of his voice, her head snapped up and their gazes locked.
His eyes raked over her. She was stunning in her pale blue cotton T-shirt and a pair of worn jeans with the knees ripped out. Her hair was done up in a simple, no-fuss pony tail, and if she had any make-up on, he couldn’t tell. He’d never seen a woman make simple look so good. Until now.
A brilliant smile spread across Ally’s face, and she started for him. “Jami,” she said, sounding relieved. “I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier.”
“Something came up,” Jami finished for her. For a brief moment, they stood toe-to-toe, soaking in the sight of each other.
“I hope you’re not mad. I would have called, but I forgot to put my phone on the charger before bed last night, and this morning was just…” Her brows rose and her eyes drifted closed, leaving Jami to wonder what she wasn’t saying. Her cheeks puffing, she blew out a heavy breath.
Was he mad? Curiously, he wasn’t. Not anymore. Just the sight of her had calmed his frayed nerves better than any round of boxing ever had. “You’re here now,” he told her, brushing his calloused knuckles across her smooth, round cheek. “That’s all that matters.”
Her smile grew, showing off her even, white teeth, as she said, “At least we can still go out for lunch. Are you hungry?”
Glancing at the clock nailed to the wall over the door, Jami realized it was almost noon. He’d been at it for longer than he’d realized. His stomach spoke for him, and they laughed. “I think you have your answer.” Slipping her hand in his, Jami led the way.
SIX
“Favorite color.”
“Black.”
“Favorite movie.”
“The Hangover.”
“Favorite—”
“That was your twenty,” Jami said, holding his hand up to halt her words. “My turn.”
Alyson pursed her lips in a playful pout. Jami had recommended a little bistro a couple blocks away from the gym, and while she thought steak was a little heavy for lunchtime, she couldn’t resist that crooked smile or the glimmer of…something she saw in his eyes every time he looked at her. All she knew was that it made her stomach clench and her hands itch to reach out and touch him, to run her hands over his bulging biceps, or through his crop of midnight hair.
“Don’t give me that look, either,” he scolded, waving a fork tipped with a chunk of rare steak at her. “It won’t work.”
Alyson felt her eyes grow wide in feigned innocence. Batting her eyelashes, she said, “What look?”
“That one,” Jami said, shaking his head. “The one you think will have me eating out of the palm of your hand.” His eyes narrowed and one black brow arched. “You’ll be sad to know that I’ve built up my defenses while away.”
Rolling her eyes in a show of exasperation, Alyson forked up a bite of salad and brought it to her mouth. “Fine, you may begin.”
Jami didn’t waste any time. “First car.”
“Rabbit,” she said, her cheeks beginning to heat.
Jami paused with his food hovering in front of him. “A Rabbit,” he deadpanned, and when Alyson glanced up at him, she could see the laughter in his eyes.
“Don’t say a word,” she warned. “It was all I could afford at the time, and it was the best car I’ve ever had. She wasn’t much to look at, but she was good to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Jami said, very obviously trying his best to look contrite. “What happened to her?”
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Alyson lifted her chin. “She passed on last year just before Christmas.”
Clearing his throat, Jami stuffed some steamed vegetables into his mouth. “What are you driving now?”
“I’m not, actually.”
Both brows shooting into his hairline, Jami’s expression clouded over with confusion. “You don’t have a car? How do you get around?�
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“It’s easy, really,” Alyson said smartly as she stabbed a thinly sliced carrot. “They have this thing called public transit. If you don’t mind meeting some of the city’s more interesting citizens, it’s quite convenient.” And cheap. She may have been a college grad, but that didn’t mean that her field of choice paid much. She was nearly as poor as the women she worked for.
“Public transit? You mean like buses and shit?” Alyson cringed as Jami’s voice rose, drawing looks from some of the diners seated nearby. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you how dangerous that is?”
“It’s not that bad,” Alyson said, gritting her teeth. Not only was he embarrassing her, but when he raised his voice like that, coupled with the dangerous look in his eye, he scared her. Her heart beat hard in her chest and her ears began to buzz.
“Not that bad,” Jami demanded to know. Dropping his silverware on the plate, he flattened his large palms on the table and leaned in. “The city is filled with creeps, crazies, and psychos, and guess what? Half of them ride the bus, and you willingly place yourself among them? Geez, Ally, I thought you were smarter than that.”
Air hissed past her teeth as irritation from his words burned through her. Had he just questioned her intelligence? Why was he being so cruel? He couldn’t possibly know how badly his words hurt, but they had. Deeply. Her history, coupled with her line of work, added far more weight to his words than Jami probably ever intended them to.
Feeling the burn in the back of her throat, Alyson sat back, and as calmly as she could manage, she rested her fork on the side of the plate. She would not cry in a damn restaurant. With slow, methodical movements, she pushed her chair away from the table and stood.
“Thank you for a lovely lunch,” she said robotically, as she looped her purse strap over her shoulder.
“Wait, you’re leaving? Come on, Ally, stop being dramatic and sit down.” Holding his hand out, Jami beckoned for her to take her seat.
Alyson ignored the offer. Unable to look at him, afraid to say another word lest she choke on them, Alyson turned her back on him and cut a path through the maze of tables toward the door. Behind her, she heard the scrape of a wooden chair as Jami shoved out of it.
“Ally, wait. Alyson!” His deep voice cracked the near silence of the restaurant like a whip.
The terrifying sensation of being pursued clawed at her suddenly, and her fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear. Eyes glued to the door, Alyson practically broke into a sprint. Crisp air hit her as the door banged open, and she breezed outside onto the sidewalk. It took a moment to get her bearings, and when she did, she turned to flee. But she didn’t get far.
“Ally.” Jami’s stern voice gave her pause, and when she felt his hand envelope her arm in a firm grip, she allowed him to pull her to a stop. “Jesus, I almost got arrested back there. I guess it’s a good thing I carry cash on me, otherwise I have a feeling you’d be halfway home before I caught up with you.” Releasing her, Jami rubbed his palms over his face and took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. When he finally looked at her, Alyson peered up into his dark eyes seeing that they were filled with a mixture of confusion, hurt, and regret. “Where the hell were you going?”
“Home,” Alyson explained crisply, mildly annoyed with him for being more concerned with where she was going than why. Typical Jamison Weston. He’d never said he was sorry for a thing in his life, and she guessed it was too much to hope that he would start now.
Eyes narrowing, Jami stuffed his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “So I’m guessing I said something to piss you off,” he stated, anger evident in the hard tone of his voice. Ally looked away, unwilling to get into the verbal sparring match he seemed to be looking for. “So that’s it? You’re just going to run away?”
“I’m not running away,” Alyson said, glaring back at him.
“Sure looks that way to me.” Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, they stood with their eyes narrowed on one another, neither one willing to relent. After what felt like an eternity, the corner of Jami’s mouth twitched. “You’re such a stubborn brat,” he said, chuckling as he pulled one hand from his pocket and stepped into her. And just like that, their fight was forgotten.
Alyson breathed a sigh of relief as his arm went around her, drawing her into the hard line of his body. “And you’re a hotheaded jerk,” she said fondly, winding her arm around his waist. She breathed in the cool, fresh scent of his cologne and sighed. Why did he have to smell so damn good?
“Wanna go back in and finish our lunch?”
Casting a thoughtful look at the brownstone building, Alyson realized what a scene they must have caused, and cringed. Everyone would be staring at them, making silent judgments. “I’d rather not,” she told him. “You already paid, and I’m sure they already cleared the table anyway.”
With his arm around her waist, he began leading them down the sidewalk. “Yeah, you’re right. I know another place we can eat, anyway, but don’t think you’re getting out of answering my questions.”
A laugh erupted from her. “We’re still playing that game?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said incredulously. “I still have nineteen left.”
Alyson bit her lip to restrain her laugh. “More like five.”
“What?” Jami asked, looking down at her quizzically.
“I said you have five questions left.”
“No, I have nineteen. I only asked you one question before you freaked out on me.”
Biting back the twinge of guilt, Alyson shook her head and held up her fingers, ticking them off one by one. “No, you asked what kind of car I drove, then what happened to it, what I drive now that it is gone, how I get from A to B—”
Stopping in his tracks, Jami pulled away so he could turn to face her. His expression was one of shock and amusement. “You were keeping track while we argued over public transit?”
Pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth, Alyson grinned. “What can I say? Maybe you should have kept better track of—Jami!” She shrieked in surprise as Jami scooped her up and turned her upside down over his shoulder. “Put me down!”
One large hand wrapped around her upper thighs, keeping her firmly planted on his shoulder as he carried her back the way they came. “Nineteen,” he grunted. “What’s your favorite food?”
At this point, she was struggling not to burst into a fit of laughter, so she was glad that he couldn’t see her face. It also didn’t hurt that this position gave her the perfect excuse to check out his firm ass. And what a nice ass it was, too.
Remembering that he had asked her a question, she tried to infuse enough attitude into her answer to sound convincing. “What? You’re going to ask me that now?” He slapped her right butt cheek, and Alyson yelped. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought to think past the blood that was now rushing to her head. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Still?” he asked, sounding surprised. “And that doesn’t count!”
Alyson bit back another laugh. Jami had always been a quick learner. She returned his slap with a playful one of her own. “Yes, still.” It had been her favorite meal since she was a little girl, and one of the only meals her family ever sat down to eat together. It surprised her that he remembered.
She felt his clipped hair brush over her exposed hip as his head shook in disbelief. “How many pairs of shoes do you own?”
The question caught her off guard. “Shoes?” she asked, gripping his sides tighter as he reached an incline in the sidewalk. He offered no explanation, so she did a quick mental calculation, which wasn’t that hard—she wasn’t much of a shoe person. “Four.”
“That’s not much for a girl,” he commented, then continued with his next question.
Alyson spent the next five minutes hanging over his shoulder—ignoring the amused looks of pedestrians as they passed by—answering completely random questions. Who was the first boy she kissed? Him. What was her favorite time of year? Fall. How long could she hold her breath under
water? Less than a minute. Maybe.
By the time they reached their destination and he set her back on her feet, Alyson was lightheaded from all of the blood pooled in her head and baffled beyond comprehension, because Jami had learned more about her in his twenty questions than she had about him.
“You suck,” she told him, adjusting her shirt around her waist. When she looked up, her forehead creased. “Where are we?”
They stood in front of a squat, one story house with dirty cream-colored siding and a sloping porch. A wooden swing hung from one chain, its left side broken and wilting against the weathered floorboards. Inside, curtains rustled in the single bay window, and she could hear the muffled sound of frantic barking.
Reaching over the chain link fence, Jami released the latch on the gate. Its hinges screamed in protest as he pushed it open and led the way up the slim concrete path. “This is my coach’s place,” he said over his shoulder. “I stay with him whenever we’re in town.”
Alyson followed closely behind him, nerves fluttering like a swarm of tiny butterflies in her stomach as Jami lifted his fist to pound on the door. More than anything, she hated meeting new people. She hated being in new places, meeting new people. Basically, she hated experiencing new things. She was out of her element, forever an awkward teenager who didn’t possess the first clue as to how to interact with other human beings, most especially the opposite sex. Jami had been the only one to prove that notion false.
When she would have used him as a shield, Jami twisted at the waist and pulled her to his side. Unlike the many times before, he didn’t hold her hand or wrap an arm over her shoulders, as she would have expected. Instead, the only part of them that touched was the length of their arms and where Jami had hooked his pinkie finger with hers, and that was only because the porch was barely big enough to hold them both.
The door creaked open, sounding like a sicker version of the gate they’d passed through, and the barking she’d heard a minute ago grew louder and more frantic. An older man, who looked to be about the same size as Jami, with a solid body and wide shoulders filled the opening, and she instantly recognized him from the tournament. A day’s worth of graying scruff lined a rugged jaw, and his gray-blue eyes shown with affection when he set them on Jami. “What the hell are you knockin’ for, boy,” he said jauntily, shoving the door open wide and releasing a spastic terrier that bolted for Jami, leaping up his legs until he bent to scoop him into his arms.
Knockout Page 5
