by Meg Maguire
He headed down to the gym. The more steps he put between his body and Jenna’s, the safer it was for everyone involved.
7
JENNA SPENT THE morning composing an ad to find her future assistant. Once it was uploaded to the best job-listings sites, she turned her energy to redecoration tasks.
At the sound of shouting, Jenna fumbled and the metal ribbon of her tape measure recoiled into its case and caught her thumb. “Ow.”
She’d been measuring the front windows for blinds, and after a short silence more shouting drifted down the hall from the gym. Seconds later, Delante came stomping past. He caught sight of her on the other side of the glass, stopping to stare. His gaze was intense, unmistakably angry.
Jenna’s heart pounded but she did her best to fake calm. “Everything okay?” she called.
The teenager looked down a moment, jaw flexing, then stepped to the doorway. “You own this place now, right?”
Panic gripped her. Had Mercer told his trainee she might have to close the gym? “Yeah, I do.”
“So you’re, like, Merce’s boss?”
“Uh, technically. But—”
“Can you tell him to lay off me, then? Dude’s driving me nuts. Busting my balls, like...” He trailed off, a violent inhalation seizing his massive shoulders. “Just tell him to quit riding me.”
“I’m sure he’s only pushing you as far he knows you’re capable—”
“It’s not that. Dude needs to chill. He makes it sound like this tournament’s the only thing in the world. Like I don’t got other shit to take care of.”
She bit her lip. “Right... Would you like a cup of coffee or something?” She wasn’t sure why she was offering, except she knew the kid needed to talk. And sure, she was technically the boss. Might as well do a good job, even if it was temporary. She owed guys like Delante that much.
He thought about it for a few breaths, then surprised her by saying, “Yeah, okay.”
She waved him in and filled a mug from the French press she’d brought down.
“Thanks.”
“Have a seat.” She did the same, sitting in the chair behind the desk and wondering how often her father might have sat here, talking with kids like Delante. He filled the space with a potent mix of sweat and a dizzying choice of cologne. The smells that passed for manhood at nineteen. “So, Mercer’s getting on your nerves?”
“Yeah. He’s always riding my ass, like he’s my dad or something. I told him I had to cut back on training, so I can get a job.”
“And he told you you couldn’t?”
“No, he was all like, ‘Okay, we gotta change your schedule up, then, so you can do both.’ And I was like, dude, I gotta sleep. This shit ain’t my whole life. It’s his whole life but, like, I got other responsibilities, you know?”
Jenna nodded. “Mercer cares a lot about you. And your potential—”
“I am so sick of that word.”
“I’ll bet. But he sees something in you. He sees a future for you in fighting. I’m sure he only wants you to succeed.”
“Well, I gotta succeed way faster. He don’t get that. He ain’t gotta live my life when he leaves that stupid gym. I need money now, and he’s like, ‘Wait four weeks, until the match.’ Dude, that’s, like, forever. I can’t wait till then. I got shit to take care of.”
For the love of God, don’t let it be a pregnancy.
“Now he’s all like, ‘Okay, pack some clothes, we’re going to Connecticut.’”
“Might do you guys good to be stuck in a car for a few hours. He can’t shout orders at you like down in the gym.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, really. I know he’s a taskmaster downstairs, but go along for the trip, then let him know he needs to back off on your schedule. He’s a reasonable guy. I’m sure he’ll understand if you just explain. Calmly.”
Delante shook his head a moment, then cracked an unexpected smile, laughed softly. “You’re such a chick.”
She smiled back. “I know.”
He looked around the office. “So you’re opening some dating service, right?”
She nodded. “Like the personals sites do, only more...personal. Old-school.”
“That’s pretty cool, I guess.”
Inspiration struck. “You said you need some fast money?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Well, I’m going to be having this office and the apartment upstairs redone over the next couple months. I can probably get you some work helping—basic stuff like moving furniture, painting, sanding, maybe picking things up for me, if you’ve got a car. If you’re interested...”
“If it’s money, I’m interested. And I got a car.”
“Okay. Good.” Good for Delante, though possibly an invitation for yet more hassle and complication for Jenna. But if it kept the kid around the gym and out of the trouble Mercer had implied waited for him elsewhere, it seemed a smart gesture. Though she probably should have asked Mercer first.
“Give me your number and I’ll let you know when I’ve got a job that needs doing.” She pulled out her phone and opened a new contact.
He started to tell her the digits, then paused. “Your dad wouldn’t probably want me doing that stuff for money. He’d probably have said I should do it for free.”
“Well, I’m not my father. And it’s hard work, and hard work deserves payment. Plus I’d probably get scammed for a lot more by a moving company or a contractor, so you’re still doing me a favor.”
He submitted and gave her his number.
She saved the entry. “Great. And you’ll go with Mercer tonight, to Hartford? And tell him how you’re feeling? Oh gosh, you’re right. I do sound like a chick.”
He laughed. “Yeah. I can’t believe you’re Monty’s daughter. But sure, I’ll go. Only ’cause now I don’t have to spend the weekend hustling for work. So, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck.”
When Delante left, Jenna felt proud in a way she hadn’t in weeks—the same happy feeling she got when two people she introduced at a cruise mixer wound up making out in a dark corner of the ship’s ballroom. Solving problems felt nice, romantic or otherwise.
She was just settling down with some paperwork when another visitor appeared in the door—Rich.
She smiled to cover up the weird little tug of intimidation he triggered. “Hello.”
He smiled back, his black eye off-putting. “Hey. Mind if I interrupt?”
She wheeled her chair back from the desk and slapped her laptop closed. “Go for it. Any excuse to put off tackling these forms.”
He turned a chair around, straddling it. He had the weirdest vibe—intensely, electrically relaxed. He fixed her with his dark eyes and grinned.
“Yes?”
“So, I know you and Merce have been... You know.”
She frowned.
“Don’t freak—he didn’t tell me. I just knew, since the only thing that’d make him turn down a chance to scrap is a naked woman in his bed. And since you’re sleeping up there already...”
She sighed. “Yes, fine. Well deduced. Have you come to gossip?”
“Just came to find out what your intentions are with my friend.”
She laughed. “Seriously? That’s awfully proper of you.”
“They don’t call me the Prince just because of this beautiful mug.” He pointed to his face and flashed her a smug—and indeed princely—smile. “Anyhow, yeah, I’m mostly here to confirm the scandal. And to make sure you know that Mercer’s pretty much a commitmentphobe.”
“Yes, he mentioned that.” Though for irrational reasons, it stung to have the fact corroborated. “You don’t have to protect my feelings, though it’s sweet...sort of. And very nosy.”
“I
know. But you’re Monty’s daughter, and he was my mentor for, like, fifteen years, so that makes you my honorary cousin or something. And I’d tell my cousin if she was getting mixed up with a guy that’s going to break her heart, even if the guy was basically her stepbrother, since your dad was like Mercer’s—”
“Yes, I follow. Thank you. Don’t worry, though. I’m a matchmaker. I know all about spotting men who aren’t relationship material, remember?”
“Sure. Of course. Just being a good cousin.”
She thought the conversation was over, but Rich dawdled, drumming his fingers along the back of the chair, not meeting her gaze.
“Was there something else?”
“So... When’s the matchmaking business actually opening?”
“I’ll start collecting new clients as soon as all the property stuff is squared away, in the next couple weeks. But I’m not officially open until mid-September, when I’m throwing a mixer. Why?”
“What’s it cost?”
She blinked at him. “You want to join?”
“Sure, why not?”
Why not indeed? Rich was undeniably handsome. Accomplished, if in an unusual field, and he’d traveled. But for the female clients she’d be catering to...
“I’m not sure I’m the best service for you. The women I’m going to be matching—I doubt they’d be your type.”
“I haven’t got a type, aside from ‘conscious female.’ You mean I’m not their type, right?”
“Well...”
He smirked, clearly annoyed. “Not sure what else you need in a guy—I’m single, I’m charming, I made nearly a hundred grand last year in prize money...”
She blinked. Damn, Rich ought to buy the gym himself. “That is quite impressive.”
“Spent it all paying for my mom’s heart surgery, but the first part looks good on paper. Plus you must need photos for the profiles, right?” Another flash of that deadly grin, and Rich framed his face with his hands. It wasn’t a bad point. A face like that would look nice on the home page—once his eye healed.
“Yes, well. I won’t turn anyone away unless they’ve got a serious criminal record or attitude problem, so you’re welcome to apply.”
“Excellent. Well, I’ll quit bugging you.” He stood and swiveled the chair back the way it should be. “I’ll see you around, cousin.”
Impulse struck. “Rich, wait.”
He turned back, studying her. “You okay?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Oh God, you’re in love with Mercer.”
It was so unexpected, she laughed and shook her head. “Could you close the door, please?”
His shapely black brows rose. “You in love with me? Miss Wilinski, we’re cousins.”
She shot him a pointed look and he relented, shutting the door.
“Have a seat.” When he did, she took a deep breath. “You were really close to my father, right?”
“Yeah. He was like my second dad. I used to joke with him that he made me a quarter Polish. Can’t say I knew him the way Mercer did, but yeah. We were real close.”
“Do you think...? Do you believe he was innocent of all that criminal stuff?”
“I was about seventeen when that shit was going down. I was clueless about anything aside from who I got to punch next.”
“I don’t mean, do you know for sure if he was really involved. I mean, do you feel he was? Was he capable of that?”
Rich looked thoughtful. “I want to say no, he’d never do that. But your dad was a complicated guy. I think he had his secrets. Every couple months, he’d disappear for a day or two. He’d tell us ahead of time, but he never said where he was going. I want to say I knew the guy, but I can’t. Not enough to say if my wanting to believe he was innocent is intuition, or loyalty.”
She frowned. “Well, thanks for your honesty.”
“Is it killing you, not knowing for sure?”
“A little.” When he’d been nothing more than a stranger to her, she’d believed the worst with no qualms. Now that she’d connected with a man he’d nearly raised, a good man... Suddenly she wanted him to be worthy of all the faith Mercer had put in him.
“If you want my advice,” Rich said, standing, “let yourself believe the best. That’s what the rest of us do.”
She nodded, not much comforted. “I’ll try. See you later.”
From the doorway Rich called, “You watch yourself with Mercer.”
“For whose benefit?” she called back, but he’d already gone.
* * *
JENNA DIDN’T CROSS PATHS with Mercer for the rest of the morning, though he could have passed by the office any number of times. She’d kept her eyes glued to her screen, filling out a million online forms for the franchise and window-shopping for furniture to turn the front entryway into a welcoming waiting area. She was nervous to spot him, frankly, now that she had no clue what to make of him.
Damn it, why did he have to be so good in bed? She’d never understood why some of her friends stayed with crappy boyfriends for longer than they should, claiming, “But the sex is insane.”
Okay, fine. She got it now. And Mercer was far from a crappy boyfriend. He was funny and levelheaded and passionate, and pretty wonderful. He was also far from being her boyfriend. A fact that made her sadder than it ought to.
It wasn’t until three, when her eyes were glazed and her stomach was growling from a lack of lunch, that she saw him again. She looked up as he knocked on the doorframe.
“Hey. Come in.” Talking to him from his old chair—her dad’s old chair—felt too weird, so she stood and skirted the desk.
Mercer had a gym bag slung over his shoulder and car keys in his hand. “Thought I’d say ’bye before I head out, make sure you don’t need anything, roommate-wise.”
“Nope, I’m good.”
“And Rich should have everything under control downstairs. Got my number, just in case?”
“I do. Did you talk to Delante?”
“Yeah, and he said he talked to you. I was afraid I’d have to go on some reconnaissance trip to Mattapan after he stormed out, but whatever you said to him, he’s way calmer, so thanks.”
“Don’t thank me quite yet.”
“No?”
She chewed her lip. “I’m not sure. He said he needed money, so I told him I’d give him some work moving furniture for me over the next couple weeks.”
“Okay, great.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be happy with that? Whatever keeps him close is fine by me. More than fine.”
Jenna relaxed. “That’s what I hoped. But I was worried I might be stepping on your toes. Or maybe you didn’t want him working at all, or I was going to risk putting his back out or something.”
“The kid’s a tank—I do worse damage to him before nine a.m. than lifting a love seat ever could. I’d rather he not work at all, but that’s not realistic. So it’s a perfect compromise, really.”
“Great. Well, enjoy your trip.”
“I will now, thanks to you. If I’m lucky, after a few hours on the road I can knock all this nonsense about money out of his head.”
“I hope it’s not anything really serious, like a preg—”
Mercer cut her off with a loud shushing noise, clamping his hands over his ears. “Don’t even get me worrying about that kind of stuff or I’ll wake up with a headful of white hair.”
She nodded and made a zipping motion across her lips.
“It’s not that, anyhow. His little sister’s starting college next month, and he’s stressed about the price tag. Trying to be the man of the house. But if he wins this match and gets signed, he can pay her next four years’ tuition with five rounds’ worth of work. He’s just spooked. It’s the f
ight of his life next month.”
“No pressure.”
“Exactly.”
“When you get back...could you tell me more about my dad?”
He blinked, clearly surprised. “Yeah, I’d be happy to. You trying to make peace in your head?”
“I have this feeling I missed out, only getting my mom’s perspective.”
“You’re always welcome to mine.”
If only her dad had offered her his, but that was a useless thing to wish for.
“Speaking of your dad, I left you something on your bed.”
“What?”
“You’ll see. Have a good weekend.”
“Drive safe.”
He began to turn then stopped. “And Jenna?”
She raised her eyebrows, then Mercer’s mouth stole her gasp, his kiss firm and brief. Jenna’s pulse raced. He smiled wickedly as he broke away, and she scanned the hall for witnesses.
“Thanks again,” he said. “Now, get the hell out of my head.”
She faked offense, secretly aglow at the gesture. “Only if you get out of my office.”
A final grin and he left. What a perplexing, annoying man.
She called it a day at five and gathered her coffee press and computer and locked the office. She waved to a now-familiar face on her way to the back stairs, one of the many guys who’d stopped by to share their condolences. Funny how a few days ago these men had made her so nervous, but now that she’d spoken to them, knew some of their names, they went beyond intimidating bodies and damaged faces to regular old people. People who could bench press her, but people all the same.
She dumped her things on the counter and headed for her room to change into comfier clothes. She’d forgotten Mercer’s parting words, and was surprised by the plastic storage tub sitting on her bed. As she snapped each latch open, she tried and failed to guess what it could be.
Inside the box were more boxes—shoeboxes mostly, and a cigar box on top with Jenna scrawled on it. She flipped it open and sucked in a breath, staring at a photo of herself in her sixth-grade band uniform. She pulled out the stack and flipped through it. Her first day of camp. Waving a sparkler around on the Fourth of July, swimming in her grandparents’ pool.
