Fighting to Forgive (Fighting, #2)

I slide them on and walk down the hallway a couple times to ensure their comfort. Oh, who am I kidding? Looking hot hurts like a bitch. But it’s totally worth it.

“Do you know where Killian is taking you tonight?” I watch my gorgeous and very mature-looking daughter step into her shoes.

“No, he said it was a surprise. I don’t care, I’m just happy he didn’t make me plan it all. These girls-ask-the-guys dances are stressful. It’s not fun being the guy.” She stands and smoothes her dress. “But he did say Blake was looking to take you somewhere super romantic.”

Nervous butterflies take flight in my belly, and I wonder if a glass of wine before he gets here to pick me up wouldn’t be a bad idea. I wobble on my heels. Eh, probably not.

“Oh, I have to get my camera.” I bolt from her bedroom to mine.

“Mom, please don’t embarrass me,” she calls from her room.

“What? Just one picture to commemorate the night. It’s our first Valentine’s Day after all.” Yeah, right. One picture. I giggle imagining the irritated look I’m going to get from Axelle and Blake at picture time.

I find the small digital camera and shove it into my red clutch. This night is going to be perfect. Axelle and Killian are meeting up with Cara and her boyfriend for dinner. Then she’s spending the night with Cara. Suzanne, Cara’s mom, guaranteed they’d be home by midnight and not a second later. She even promised to call me once they got there. So I have all night alone with Blake at a sleepover at his place.

My eyes slide to the small bag I packed for tonight, which includes some very skimpy lingerie. Excited energy bubbles up in my chest. This is going to be a night to remember.

The doorbell rings, and my stomach leaps into my throat. They’re here. Or at least one of them. Axelle calls out that she’ll get it, and I race to the mirror to check my makeup one last time. I shake my fingers through my hair. I’m wearing it loose and wild, just the way Blake likes it. The red lipstick is in the lines, and there’s none on my teeth. I take a deep breath and move from my room when I hear the rumble of a deep voice. Halfway down the hallway, I freeze. I know that voice. It’s familiar and terrifying.

Icy fear torpedoes through my veins. My stomach flips and threatens to unload. Tremors rattle my legs, and I brace myself against the wall to keep upright. No. It can’t be.

I walk my hands down the length of the hall to the kitchen. My legs are numb, and my heart’s racing. Peeking around the corner, I’m met with the dark eyes of my worst nightmares.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Laylay.”

Blake

This is it. My first official formal date. Ever. Or, at least the first one I’m excited about. I’ve accompanied girls to formal parties, even dragged a few to some of the shit we have to do for the UFL, but I was always rushing through the date to the hook up afterwards.

Tonight is different.

Yeah, I’m still stoked as hell to use my woman’s gorgeous body as my own playground of sexual pleasure until the sun comes up or she passes out from exhaustion. But I’m also proud as hell to take her out on my arm. Sit across from her at dinner and talk about nothing but laugh about everything. Give her a Valentine’s Day experience that makes up for her never having one.

The box in my pants pocket warms my thigh. It took me three days total to plan for a few hours out. After finding the fanciest restaurant in Vegas, and shit there’s a lot of them, I decided I should get her a gift. I want her to have something to remember this night. I called Jonah, and when he was finished laughing his ass off and saying I told you so in a variety of different ways, he told me I should get jewelry. Good thing I asked, or she’d have ended up with a pair of crotchless panties.

Raven met me at the mall, and she dragged me to Tiffany’s and helped me pick out a simple silver chain bracelet with a small heart charm hanging from it. It’s tiny and delicate, just like Layla.

After the jewelry, she pulled me into a men’s clothing store. I told her I had plenty of suits, but she said since it’s a first it calls for something new. That sounds like a bunch of chick bullshit to me. I groaned at the mention of wearing a pink tie, but I’m glad I indulged her. It looks sick as shit with my black shirt and suit.

After a last round of cortisone shots this afternoon, I’m feeling great. My back feels like it’s packed with cotton. No cramping or even a hint of pain. I make a quick shake and down it, along with my pills. Won’t want to be worrying about those when I get back here tonight all ready to get naked with my woman. I check the clock and internally high-five myself for my timing.

J.B. Salsbury's books