“Wasn’t planning on it.” When he spoke again, she heard the smile in his voice. “Why, do you want me to give you a play-by-play?”
She thought about that for a second as he turned her around and rinsed the soap from her hair. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in hearing about something that was—whether he copped to it or not—a huge part of who he was. But she couldn’t even imagine Irish bragging like she’d seen so many guys do when trying to impress a girl or their friends. He’d probably say something like, “I hit him, he hit me, then I hit him harder and I won.”
Kat almost giggled at her own musings but stopped herself in time. She lost the thread of conversation as he then worked a healthy amount of creamy conditioner into her snarls. Finally she said, “How about telling me how you won. It can be by knockout or submission, right?”
She was glad she’d paid attention when Xander talked up his fights the other morning when they made breakfast together. Xan was definitely the play-by-play type, but somehow he managed to make his arrogance come off as endearing. A total mystery, considering she found that sort of thing a turn-off.
“Or by the judges’ decision if neither fighter finishes it, but yeah. It was close, but I ended up submitting him with an arm bar.”
“Congratulations.” He muttered a thanks, then turned her around so he could rinse her hair one last time. “I’d like to come to your next fight.”
He paused and glanced down at her before refocusing on his task. “I’m not really on my A game yet, you know? Maybe someday.”
Kat got it. He wanted to wait until he had his confidence back before she watched him. If she had anything she was good at, she’d probably want the same thing. As it was, though, she’d never had time to explore any interests she did have. That was something she should add to her to-do list. Discover hobbies or possible talents.
“God, I love your hair,” he said, running his fingers through the now-silky mass.
“This is nothing. You should see my sist—” Kat cut herself off. She’d let her guard down so much around Irish she forgot to keep up the ruse of having no family. Maybe he didn’t catch it.
“You never told me you had a sister.”
She sighed. Of course he caught it. Irish actually listened when a woman talked. Men like him were extremely rare. Actually, in her experience, they were more like unicorns: talked about as though they might exist, but really just a creature of girlish fairy tales.
It didn’t matter anymore, she supposed. Irish wasn’t a threat to Nessie. She’d always kept her sister a secret so no one could ever use that knowledge against her. On the seedy side of the tracks in life, people didn’t hesitate to threaten your loved ones to get you to do what they wanted.
She’d even convinced Lenny years ago that she’d received word Vanessa died in a car accident. If there was one thing Kat had been adamant about since she was fourteen, it was that Vanessa’s life would never be tainted by hers. She’d protected Kat when they were growing up. The least she could do was try and protect her older sister now that they were adults.
“I have an older sister, Vanessa. But we don’t keep in contact.”
Reaching past her, he grabbed his all-in-one shower gel and filled one of his hands with the electric-blue soap. As he made quick work of scrubbing some of it through his midnight hair and the rest over his body in quick, efficient movements, he asked, “Why not? Don’t you get along?”
“No, that’s not it. Nessie and I are very close.” Kat crossed her arms over her chest and moved so he could rinse himself from head to toe. “Especially when we were growing up. She always protected me, always took care of me.”
The clean scent of some scientist’s idea of what the ocean breeze smelled like curled around her. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and drew it deep into her lungs. His sheets and pillowcase smelled like that and she was sure it calmed her better than any expensive aromatherapy ever could. She came back to herself when Irish maneuvered her to stand in front of him, her back to his chest.
“So what happened to make you drift apart?”
Irish moved the heavy mass of her hair over the front of her left shoulder. Gathering it in her hands, she braided it to keep it out of the way as he began soaping her back. “She graduated and went to college in Nevada. She tried calling me, but I didn’t take her calls very often.”
His hands slid up and down her back, kneading her sore muscles and lulling her into an almost dreamlike state. She let her head drop forward and closed her eyes.