Fighting for Irish (Fighting for Love, #3)

Her fingers flew up to her mouth on a gasp. “Holy shit, what happened to you two?”


Xander’s eye was cut and his face looked like he’d come from the dentist and forgot to take the cotton rolls out of his cheek. Irish wasn’t much better, with a black right eye under a one-inch gash and swollen bottom lip where his healing cut had split open again. Xander cut a presumably innocent glance at his friend. The kind that asked whether he was supposed to make up a story or beat feet. Some women may have missed the “guilty” signals, but she’d become adept at picking up on people’s tells. A perpetual distrust of her fellow man and years of working in bars and diners attributed to that particular talent.

Irish gave a slight shake of his head and dropped a large gym bag at his feet. Xan clapped his hands together. “You know what I just remembered? I was supposed to go over to Sandy’s tonight, so I’ll just take a quick shower—”

A throat clearing interrupted him.

“Or I could take one over at her place.”

Irish inclined his head. “That’d be good.”

“Right, then,” Xander said on his way to the door. “Lovely to see you again, Kat.”

“Night, Xander.”

They stood there, not moving or speaking until they could no longer hear the roar of the Nova. Finally, he broke the silence. “I need to shower.”

“I can see that. Basic first aid might not be a bad idea, either. Want to tell me what happened?”

“I entered that underground tournament Xander’s in. I had a fight tonight. Xan, too.”

She canted her head. “I thought you never wanted to fight again.”

He shrugged one shoulder and she found herself resenting the T-shirt for hiding the undulating muscles underneath. “Been reconsidering. There’s this big-time manager, Victor McManus. He’s scouting out there for new talent. Figured I’d give it a shot.”

Kat couldn’t stop the ear-to-ear grin from spreading on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“I think it’s great. I’m so happy for you.” Unable to hold back any longer, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. He sucked in a sharp breath and cursed as he grabbed her arms to hold her back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing serious. Just a few bruises.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” She stared at his torso as though she’d be able to see the damage. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but it’d be great if you hold off on giving me any bear hugs for a couple weeks,” he said with a wry half grin. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t give me any of your kitten hugs.”

Kat raised an eyebrow. “What are my kitten hugs?”

“You know the ones.” He took hold of her hands and brought them up behind his neck, even though the strain on his face told her it caused him pain. “Your arms go up like that, mine go around your waist, and you lean into me all soft and sweet…” He pulled her body flush with his. “Like this.”

“Ah, yes, now I remember,” she quipped, gazing up at him. “These are the kind conducive to kissing, am I right?”

“Yeah, they are.”

He bent his head and she noticed a smear of dark red, caked-on blood below his ear. She stopped him with a palm held between their faces. Gingerly touching the area, she winced at the thought of what might be under there. “Does that one hurt?”

He reached up, prodded, then scraped off the mark. “Blood’s not mine.”

Kat gaped at his nonchalance. “Gross!” Stepping out of his arms, she said, “Your blood and sweat is one thing, but I’m not making out with you while you’re wearing someone else’s DNA.”

Chuckling at her retreat, he advanced. “Fair enough. I’m sure you’d appreciate a relaxing hot shower after your long shift. Why don’t we take one together? Conserve water and all that.”

Sex in the shower? Surely that took some sort of finesse. Some experience. Both of which she didn’t possess. Their relationship was new enough that she still cared whether she made an extreme fool of herself. Beyond that, with her luck she’d cause them to slip and fall and he’d suffer an injury that forced him to withdraw from the tournament, ruining his chances for resurrecting his career. No way could she have that on her conscience.

More steps back for her. More steps forward for him.

“You’re right. A relaxing shower does sound great.” Thud. The doorframe of the bathroom wedged between her shoulder blades. He’d caught her between a rock and a… Kat glanced down to the bulge behind his shorts. Very, very hard place. Swallowing thickly, she met his gaze. “But the look in your eyes says you have other things on your mind than a quick lather, rinse, and repeat.”

“So what if I promise that we’ll only do shower stuff, then will you?”

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