Unfortunately, Butch got hip to what he was doing and bawled him out for not listening to Scotty’s replacement and taking it easy. But Reid didn’t know the meaning of taking it easy. His mottos were more than just your average motivational fodder. He lived by things like “give more than your everything or you’ll amount to nothing” and “if you didn’t come to win, you should’ve stayed the fuck home.” Shit like that had been drilled into him since he was old enough to throw a punch at his old man’s command.
He refused to accept the possibility of not completely healing in the next two months, thereby losing his shot at ever reclaiming his title. Every year the sport produced younger and better fighters, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for the older fighters to compete. That’s why Reid trained as hard as he did. There would always be some guy who wanted his belt and was working his ass off for a chance to take it, so he had to train and prepare that much harder to keep it. He was pissed as hell Butch had given him an ultimatum: leave camp and do PT the right way or he was pulling the fight.
Fuck. That.
Fine, whatever. He’d make his coach happy and go to this lame PT shit. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to treat it any differently than he did his regular training. He didn’t have time to dick around. He needed to get back to Vegas a.s.a.p. so he could reclaim what was rightfully his.
Reid pushed open the double doors and walked through a large room resembling the inside of a YMCA. Treadmills, ellipticals, weight sets, and exercise balls. No sparring cage. No floor mats. No punching bags. However there was an old man of about eighty-plus years walking so slow on a treadmill that he was practically immobile.
“This blows,” he mumbled as he approached the small office with his PT’s name, Lucinda Miller, on the partially closed door. He raised his hand to give a quick rap before announcing himself, but paused when he heard soft sniffles coming from the bowed head of a brunette sitting behind the desk. At least he assumed it was a desk. It was hard to tell what was under the stacks of files and papers. Instead of knocking, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, this a bad time?”
The woman spun her chair around to face the back wall, hitting her knee on a file cabinet in the process and muttering an expletive he’d bet she didn’t use publicly very often. Though he hadn’t seen her face yet, he couldn’t help but find her clumsiness sort of cute. When she grabbed a Kleenex from somewhere on her floor and blew her nose, he was reminded that she was in a vulnerable moment. “I can come back.”
“No, no.” She blew her nose and then gestured behind her without turning around. “If you could just go have a seat in the next room, I’ll be right with you.”
Sounded good. As much as he hated to see a woman upset, it was bad enough having to console someone he knew, much less a woman he didn’t. Finding the room, Reid leaned his hips on the padded table, absentmindedly cracking his knuckles as he waited. It was only another minute before she breezed in, eyes on his file, while making a beeline to the small desk along the wall.
“I’m terribly sorry about that,” she said. “Let me just take a brief moment to look this over and we’ll get down to business.”
“Take your time.” Something about her voice poked at his brain. Almost like he’d heard it before.
“Okay, Mr. Johnson, let’s take a look at—”
They froze as recognition took hold.
“Luce?”
“Reid?”
It had been several years—shit, six, maybe even seven or more, he couldn’t remember—since the last time he’d seen his best friend’s little sister. Her face was blotchy with her eyes rimmed in red from crying. so he almost hadn’t realized it was her, but the freckle at the outer corner of her left eye vaguely shaped like a heart gave her away. It was just barely visible under the dark-rimmed, rectangular glasses she wore.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, giving his waist a hard squeeze. It’d been so long since he’d seen anyone from their hometown, and besides her brother, she’d be the only person he’d care to see. He returned her hug, tucking his head down to hers. Her hair smelled like a mix of flowers and summer, so different from the heavy perfume concoctions he was used to women wearing.
She released him, taking a seat on the swivel stool in front of the desk while tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I can’t believe it’s you. Wait, why does my chart say Randy Johnson?”
Reid chuckled at the ridiculous name he used for anonymity. “It’s an alias.” Wanting to erase the pained look from whatever had happened before he arrived, he gave her a wicked smile and added, “And sometimes a state of being.”
Her brows gathered together for the few seconds it took to sink in, then her cheeks flushed with color and her eyes grew wide. “Reid!”
He couldn’t have stopped his laugh if he wanted to. The shocked look on her face was totally worth it. “Come on, Lu-Lu, you can’t still be that innocent after all these years.”