As he wandered over to the bar, her gaze stayed glued on him. He wore a long-sleeve black shirt and faded blue jeans that hugged his taut ass. God, that ass. She knew firsthand how firm it was, how amazing it felt to dig her fingers into it while he moved on top of her.
“Holy moly, who is that?” One of the other waitresses sidled up to Skyler at the drink station, pretending to fan herself.
She couldn’t wipe the enormous grin off her face. “My date.”
Megan almost dropped dead from visible envy. “Goddamn it, girl, you did good.”
“I know, right?”
It felt like forever before her shift ended. Once all the customers cleared out, the staff quickly began dragging tables to the center of the room to create one long eating area for the incoming party. As Skyler stacked chairs, she caught sight of her manager Naomi approaching Gage at the bar counter.
Naomi gestured to the door, clearly informing him he had to leave, which prompted Skyler to hurry over to the bar. “He’s my ride home,” she told her boss. “Is it cool if he hangs out here until I’m done?”
Naomi looked from Skyler to Gage, then back at Skyler, and gave an honest-to-God wink. “You know what, hon, why don’t you take off now? We can handle the setup without you.”
“Really?”
“Really. Go.” With a barely restrained smirk, Naomi sauntered off.
“Jeez, I need you to pick me up more often,” Skyler remarked. “Think of all the shifts I could have skipped out early on.”
Gage slid off his stool and brushed a kiss on her lips, soft and fleeting and yet it still succeeded in curling her toes.
She fought to stop the goofy grin from resurfacing. “Can I wear this to the fight or should I go home and change first?”
He leaned in, his fingers toying with the strip of lace peeking out from her shirt. “What’s this sexy lacy thing you’ve got on?”
God, his voice was like a drug. Deep and addictive.
“It’s a camisole. But it’s kind of skimpy—I usually wear something over it.”
“Skimpy is fine. Trust me, the chicks at the arena will be wearing less clothing than that.” He held out his hand, and she took it, shivering when their skin made contact.
Hand in hand, they left the restaurant and walked to the black Jeep Cherokee at the curb. Once she’d settled in the passenger seat, Skyler unbuttoned her shirt, noting with a grin that Gage’s gaze followed every minute motion of her fingers. When the shirt parted and she slid it off her shoulders, he released a growling sound that heated the car.
“Damn, that is skimpy. I love it.”
Pleasure danced inside her. His appreciative gaze did wonders for her ego. She was fully aware that she wasn’t supermodel-gorgeous, but gosh darn it, Gage made her feel like she was.
His hand rested on her thigh during the entire drive across town. What he’d referred to as the arena ended up being an enormous warehouse in the city’s west end. Gage pulled into the jam-packed parking lot in front of the sprawling gray building and drove up to a row of reserved spaces. After he’d killed the engine, he hopped out and rounded the vehicle to open Skyler’s door.
And her friends said chivalry was dead.
Two minutes later they strode into the building, and Skyler was astonished by the number of people crammed inside of it. Bleachers spanned three of the arena’s walls, while the fourth housed a bar area with a mile-long line.
The crowd was surprisingly eclectic. The Irish folks were easy to spot thanks to their thick brogues and the pints of Guinness in their hands. The hipsters looked bored by it all—they were probably there ironically, anyway—and Skyler also glimpsed several groups of businessmen in the bleachers. Some people were covered in tattoos, some weren’t. Some women wore sneakers, others wore heels. And almost everyone was screaming their lungs out, all eyes focused on the cage in the center of the room. It boasted ominous chain-link walls, and a large fighting surface covered with faint reddish stains. Blood, Skyler realized. Wiped away, but not entirely.
Two men were locked together in the corner of the cage, one curled over on the mat and locked into submission by the one above him. Even from where she stood, Skyler saw the veins bulging in the captive man’s forehead. He was red-faced and gasping, meaty fists pounding upward at the man trapping him in the hold. But to no avail. Several seconds passed before the man’s shoulders slumped and he slowly tapped the mat.
As the crowd roared, the winner hopped up and raised his arms in a victory pose.
“I asked for an early slot, so I should probably head over to the locker room now.” Gage led her to the bleachers and found an empty seat, then gestured for her to sit. “You’ll be okay here, but if anyone gives you trouble, tell them you’re with me.”
She nodded. “So what do I say to you? Break a leg? Kick his ass?”
“Good luck will do just fine.”
“Good luck then.” She stood on her tiptoes and smacked a kiss on his cheek.