Radio silence. Shit. Butch was a mild-mannered guy…until you said or did something against him that had to do with training, and the silence was the calm before the storm. It was his only similarity to Reid’s father, but even then Butch never took it to the point of cruelty Stan Andrews had.
“Are you fucking kidding me! Am I being Plunk’d or whatever the hell it’s called? Because I’m having a hard time understanding why my star fighter is turning down help from his professional trainer and professional sports doc to prepare for the biggest fight in his career!”
Reid started pacing in the small room like a caged lion in front of the dude with the whip. “Damn it, Butch, don’t start on me like that, all right? I just said—”
“I heard what you said. What I’m concerned with, boy, is what you’re not saying.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means the Reid I know would jump all over the chance to come back to camp and focus on taking back his belt. It means I think it’s possible you’re thinking with your dick instead of your head.”
Reid froze. Coach was hitting a little too close to home with that one. “Just because I don’t want to be a heartless bastard doesn’t mean anything other than that, old man.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” A heavy sigh came through from the other end of the line. “Look, son, you know I don’t want to begrudge you any happiness. But this is it. You’re getting up in age. If you lose this fight, it doesn’t mean the end of your career. But it could mean the beginning of the end. You’ll be given fights with the low men on the totem pole. And those kids are going to be younger and hungrier than you. Then once you’ve got a few losses under your belt, they’ll stop giving you fights altogether.”
“I know.” Reid collapsed back onto the couch and let his head drop back. What concerned him was that the idea of his career coming to an end no longer terrified him as it once had.
“Then stay this next week if you want. But then you come back to camp and we’ll make sure you’re ready.”
Reid still hated the idea of cutting his time short with Lucie, but the more he thought about it the more he realized it was better this way. She’d accomplished her goal, and with her help he was very close to realizing his. She’d worked miracles with his shoulder; it was almost at a hundred percent. And if he was this attached to her after only two weeks, it was bound to get much worse after another five or six. Yeah. This was definitely the way to go.
“I’ll see you in a week.”
…
“Honestly, I shouldn’t have even tipped the guy,” Stephen grumbled. “He was so busy falling all over himself for you that he barely did anything right the entire dinner.”
Lucie stepped through the door he held for her, glad to feel the warm night air wrap around her and rid her of the chill from the air-conditioning. No matter how many times she froze in restaurants, she never remembered to bring a sweater.
“I think you’re being too hard on him. I’m pretty sure he was a new waiter and still awkward at his job. It certainly didn’t have anything to do with me.”
“Well, no matter. Though the dinner itself left much to be desired, my company was easily five stars,” he said as he lifted her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles.
It was a cheesy line with a cheesy old-fashioned gesture and the whole thing made her burst into laughter.
And snort.
Stephen’s eyes widened and paused in his release of her hand like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly. She felt the color rise into her cheeks until she was sure her face was now an exact match to her dress.
“Sorry, I, uh,” Think, Lucie, think! “I’ve been having some sinus issues recently.”
Finally he moved, letting go of her hand and gesturing for her to start their short walk back to her apartment. As she fell into step, he said, “You should get that looked at. You don’t want it to turn into sinusitis.”
She wasn’t sure how she should respond, so she opted for a subject change. “After years of working together in a professional capacity, it was so nice to finally spend some time with you on a more personal level, Stephen.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Although we didn’t do a very good job at ‘personal’ over dinner, did we? We talked shop the whole time.”
Lucie grinned, pleased she’d succeeded in directing the conversation the way she wanted. “Yes, I suppose we did.”
“So, tell me about Lucie. What are your short-term and long-term goals, Ms. Miller?” Stephen sidestepped an empty slushie cup the size of a newborn lying next to a trash receptacle and continued walking.
Pausing long enough to pick it up and throw it away, she had to quick-step a few strides to catch back up to him since he hadn’t noticed she’d fallen behind.
“Um, well, I guess my short term goals would be things like getting some new equipment for the therapy room, taking some more classes on new techniques, and making an effort to get out more often.”
He looked over at her. “Out more often?”