She couldn’t deny that Gage made her heart pound like no man ever had, but she didn’t know much about him except that he was rough around the edges and owned a nightclub. It was way too premature to think about any sort of future with the guy.
“We’ll see what happens,” she said with a shrug. “Right now, I’m not thinking past the out-of-this-world sex.” She grinned. “Aren’t you even a teeny bit happy that I’m having fun for a change?”
“Oh, for sure,” Lacey answered. “I was starting to worry about you. Seriously. It’s not normal for someone as young and hot as you to not have a life.”
Skyler snickered. She gestured around the cafeteria, then at Lacey’s bright pink scrubs. “Look who’s talking. You practically live at this hospital.”
“Babe, you’ve seen Grey’s Anatomy—there’s a lot more than medicine and life-saving going on around here.” With a wink, the brunette nodded toward the buffet line. “For example. See that fine-assed man over there?”
Skyler followed her friend’s gaze, raising a brow when she noticed the incredibly handsome blond. “Yeah?” She turned back with a knowing look.
“Oh yeah. Dr. Josh Lewis. We have regularly scheduled hookup sessions in the on-call lounge.” Lacey wiggled her eyebrows. “Trust me. I most certainly have a life. A very, very active one.”
Skyler’s phone buzzed, putting a halt to the conversation. When she glanced at the screen, a frown immediately puckered her lips.
Her friend snorted. “Trouble in just-sex-paradise already?”
“Naah, it’s not Gage.” She paused. “Clay.”
Lacey’s expression went serious. “What does he want?”
Skyler skimmed the message again, then stifled a sigh. “Same old. Just to see how I’m doing and ask if I want to pop in for dinner this week.”
“Let me guess, you’ll reply with your usual I’m-too-busy bullshit.”
She shrugged, fighting her rising discomfort. Which only got worse when she noticed the disapproval glittering in her friend’s brown eyes.
“What?” she said defensively.
After a beat, Lacey shook her head. “Nothing. I just feel sorry for him sometimes. He’s trying so hard.”
The uncomfortable feeling transformed into a knot of guilt. It was true—her stepfather really did make an effort to reach out to her. No matter how many times she blew him off, he still kept calling, texting, and emailing every few weeks. Like clockwork.
But his attempts to connect with her only seemed to make Skyler withdraw even more. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, or how hard she tried to move past it—she still viewed Clay Rivers as the man who’d broken up her parents’ marriage, and being around him was just a bleak reminder of her mom’s betrayal and her dad’s heartache.
“I’m a real hypocrite, huh?” Skyler let out a heavy breath. “Here I am, studying to become a therapist, and yet I totally refuse to deal with my own issues. In my head I know Clay’s not fully to blame for everything that happened, but every time I see him, I can’t help but feel it.”
“I know, babe. Your whole life was turned upside down because of him. But…” Lacey sighed too. “Eventually you’ll have to make a decision. Whether to deal with this Clay stuff head-on, or just cut him off completely.”
“Eventually,” she echoed, keeping her tone light. She took a last sip of coffee before pushing her chair back. “All right. I’ve gotta hit the library. I still need to finish up my conclusion for that abuse victims paper.”
“Any big plans for tonight?” Lacey grinned as they picked up their trays and headed for the row of trash cans across the cafeteria.
“Probably not. I haven’t heard from Gage.”
“Well, I hope you do. You need to make the most of the sexy times while they’re still deliciously new.” Lacey put on a strict face. “But remember—don’t fall in love with him.”
Skyler rolled her eyes. “I’ll try not to.”
…
The warehouse was filled to the rafters. Gage swallowed a tired sigh as he maneuvered through the throng of people, wishing he were anywhere but here. The crowd was more boisterous than usual, releasing cheers, jeers, and deafening screams as the two fighters in the cage beat the crap out of each other. And the air was sweltering hot, thanks to the hundreds of bodies crammed in the large space. He was already sweating, and he hadn’t even gotten in the cage yet.
He ignored the wave of hellos and back slaps he encountered on his way to the roped-off area on one side of the room, where three rows of “elite” seats offered an unobstructed view of the cage. Several shady characters occupied the VIP seats, although on paper, everything about the arena was legal. Permits, liquor licenses, vendors—all aboveboard. And yet there was nothing aboveboard about the man who ran the fights.
Mitch O’Donnell rose at Gage’s approach, looking pleased as punch to see him. He was a big man, six five to Gage’s six two, but lanky rather than built. He had pale skin and red hair tied back in a ponytail, and an unlit cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Glad you made it, Holt.”