Worried that she might change her mind, I plop my ass in the seat across from her. My meal is probably ice-cold by now, but I don’t give a damn. So I tuck into my eggs like a starving man. Oh yeah, cold and rubbery as hell, but it’s a punishment I’ll gladly take for hurting her.
The waitress comes by, winking at me as she refreshes my coffee. “Went to all that trouble just to buy flowers, huh?” She grabs my plate. “I’ll have Travis make another omelet for ya.”
I’m definitely going to add more money to her tip. “Thanks.”
“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Evangeline asks in a cheerful tone.
“I have some casework to go over, hitting the gym, and then night out with Dwight and Hayden.” Guilt sucker punches me right in the gut, but I ignore it. I do have plans with Dwight and Hayden at Bohannon’s, but it’s for after my match.
“Sounds very busy.” She leans back in her seat, her light brown hair flowing over her shoulders and brushing the tops of her breasts. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Because you’re a beautiful woman.”
She blushes. “You’re really laying this apology on thick.”
“I rarely say what I don’t mean.” After a beat, I ask, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“Nothing.”
“Sounds not busy at all.”
Her head cocks to one side. “You’re the one who called in sick for me.”
I take a drink of coffee. “What would you like to do?”
“Take a bubble bath in the claw-foot tub in my bathroom. I wish I could watch a movie while I soak.”
Rubbing my chin, I say, “Might be able to help you out with that.”
“You’re going to hold the television up for me?”
“Not a bad idea. You get a show. I get a show. Sounds like a win-win for both of us.”
A burst of laughter escapes her as the waitress reappears with a new plate of steaming hot food, setting it on the table without a word.
I thank her before she walks away. She gives me another wink.
“You really impressed her,” Evangeline whispers, but there’s no jealousy or censure in her voice.
“She’s not the woman I was worried about impressing.”
Her eyes widen.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
She nods. “Absolutely.”
I can’t help but notice how very still she sits. How she barely moves her hands when she talks. How, when she smiles, that adorable dimple of hers rarely makes an appearance. It makes my heart ache that she holds herself back like she does.
“Why don’t you ask Saylor to go out with you for a ladies’ night out? There’s a great bar near the apartment that I can recommend.”
Her forehead creases. “You don’t want to take me there?”
“Yeah, but I already have plans tonight…at the bar I can recommend.”
I can see the wheels turning as she tries to figure out my game plan. Finishing my last bite, I wipe off my face with a napkin. “Ready to go?”
“Yes.” She grabs the bouquet of flowers and stands, then digs into her pocket and hands my keys over to me.
I join her, making sure to leave more money for the tip first. “After you.”
Allowing her to walk a couple of feet ahead of me, I take time to admire her curves, the way the back pockets of her jeans seem to cup her ass…the gentle sway of her hips.
My fingers itch at the thought of touching her again, of exploring her body even more with my hands and mouth. Of making her come undone. Giving her orgasms. If she wants me to pleasure her every day of the week and then twice on Sundays, I’m completely up for the job.
“Are you coming?” she calls from over her shoulder.
No, but you will be soon. “Just memorizing the view before I have to drop you off at home.”
“That has got to be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard,” she says, waiting for me to unlock my truck.
“Won’t use it again.”
She steps up into my truck and sits down, arching her brow as she looks at me. “I said it was the cheesiest, not the worst.”
Very carefully, I lay my hand on her thigh. “Does that mean you want more of them?”
Evangeline inhales sharply before saying the most beautiful three words in existence. “I want more.”
—
Tonight, my opponent, Horace Caley, is a tough one. A hell of a bruiser with a long reach and quick feet. It’s all I can do to get close enough to hit him without being mercilessly pounded.
“Stop dancing, Sloan,” Hayden shouts.
“You stop dancing,” I mutter around my mouth guard.
A trickle of sweat hits my eye. I swipe at it and wince. Not sweat, blood.
He comes at me again, long arms swinging like a clock pendulum. Well, a pendulum with a block of concrete hanging off the end.
I barely keep out of his way by spinning around. My head snaps forward, sharp pain blooming from the back of my neck.
“No punching to the back of the head,” the ref warns as he jogs to me. “Time to recover?”
Blinking hard, I shake off the pain and dizziness. “I’m good.”
The crowd cheers and groans as a point is deducted from Caley’s total as we take fighting stances again.
He holds up his taped-at-the-knuckles hands. “Accident, but I’ll take the penalty.”