adjusted himself under the table as he took in her nipples pressing against the thin material of the shirt. Had bacon always been so erotic?
He cleared his throat and smiled, taking her out of the bacon orgasm she seemed to be having across the table from him. “So, what’s your plan today?” he asked. He couldn’t help but notice how adorable she looked eating. He was used to women who ate only salads and other healthy stuff. It was refreshing to see a woman who ate heartily.
“Well …” She took a sip of the orange juice while feeding Drogo small pieces of bacon. “First I have to deal with my car. Once that’s fixed, I guess, the plan is just to drive home.”
His heart fell at the thought of her leaving, and apparently Drogo felt the sameway, because he whimpered.
Dude, where’s your loyalty?
Jack thought.
“You’re not going to stay and talk to Slade?” he asked.
“What does it matter? Slade made it clear he’s going to do whatever he wants. I might as well go back home and deal with the mess I left behind.”
“What mess?” he asked.
She waved her hand and shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. Let’s just say I’ve had a shitty few days.”
“Well, it’s about to get shittier. I have to tell you something.”
“What now?” she groaned, pushing back her plate. She rested her elbows on the table and buried her forehead on her palms, obviously bracing herself for whatever bad news lay ahead.
Jack got up from across the table and walked over to her. Startling her, he pulled her chair out from under the table and turned it sideways. Drogo growled at him. “What the hell? You’re my dog, Drogo,” he scolded the dog. Then he grabbed the chair next to hers, turned it, and sat down so they were facing each other and their knees were brushing. He took her hands in his.
“I went next door this morning. I know why he needs money. It’s not a bad thing. It’s not for anything illegal. I hate to admit, I thought it would be, since he was being so secretive,” he said as he lazily caressed the tops of her hands with his thumbs. “He wants to open a training center for boxers and MMA fighters. He realizes that his shelf life in the fighting world is about to expire. He’s had too many concussions.”
Her hand involuntarily squeezed his. “Concussions? Plural?” she said. “I know that for a professional fighter, concussions are the norm, but how many are we talking about here? Has he had MRIs? Has he—”
He interrupted her. “Listen, Chrissy. He knows he can’t continue fighting. Haven’t you noticed the slight shake in his right hand?”
“I saw it the other day at the diner, but I didn’t think much of it. He’d just been released from a night in jail, and … I don’t know, I just let it go.”
“It’s just the way it goes,” he told her. “I fight for fun, but I have a job, a career. He doesn’t. Fighting is his life. It’s his career, it’s his fun, it’s his everything. He wants to open a gym and train others. He’s always told me about his dreams, but I wasn’t sure how serious he was.”
Her back straightened, and a smile began curving at the corners of her mouth. “This is good news. He’s maturing. Giving up that barbaric fighting nonsense and opening a gym. A legitimate business. If he has some cognitive degeneration from the concussions, maybe it can be reversed, or at least it shouldn’t progress any further.” Shelet out a breath. “Whew—I thought you were going to give me bad news.” She squeezed his hands, and her eyes beamed.
He didn’t want to be the one to dim the light in her eyes, but he knew he was about to do just that. “Chris, he doesn’t have all the money he needs yet. He’s going to fight again in a few days. I’m afraid that because of the big purse in this fight, it’s not going to be an easy one, and I know he’s not going to back out.” And there it was! All the light in her eyes vanished. Her shoulders drooped.
He cleared his throat and smiled, taking her out of the bacon orgasm she seemed to be having across the table from him. “So, what’s your plan today?” he asked. He couldn’t help but notice how adorable she looked eating. He was used to women who ate only salads and other healthy stuff. It was refreshing to see a woman who ate heartily.
“Well …” She took a sip of the orange juice while feeding Drogo small pieces of bacon. “First I have to deal with my car. Once that’s fixed, I guess, the plan is just to drive home.”
His heart fell at the thought of her leaving, and apparently Drogo felt the sameway, because he whimpered.
Dude, where’s your loyalty?
Jack thought.
“You’re not going to stay and talk to Slade?” he asked.
“What does it matter? Slade made it clear he’s going to do whatever he wants. I might as well go back home and deal with the mess I left behind.”
“What mess?” he asked.
She waved her hand and shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. Let’s just say I’ve had a shitty few days.”
“Well, it’s about to get shittier. I have to tell you something.”
“What now?” she groaned, pushing back her plate. She rested her elbows on the table and buried her forehead on her palms, obviously bracing herself for whatever bad news lay ahead.
Jack got up from across the table and walked over to her. Startling her, he pulled her chair out from under the table and turned it sideways. Drogo growled at him. “What the hell? You’re my dog, Drogo,” he scolded the dog. Then he grabbed the chair next to hers, turned it, and sat down so they were facing each other and their knees were brushing. He took her hands in his.
“I went next door this morning. I know why he needs money. It’s not a bad thing. It’s not for anything illegal. I hate to admit, I thought it would be, since he was being so secretive,” he said as he lazily caressed the tops of her hands with his thumbs. “He wants to open a training center for boxers and MMA fighters. He realizes that his shelf life in the fighting world is about to expire. He’s had too many concussions.”
Her hand involuntarily squeezed his. “Concussions? Plural?” she said. “I know that for a professional fighter, concussions are the norm, but how many are we talking about here? Has he had MRIs? Has he—”
He interrupted her. “Listen, Chrissy. He knows he can’t continue fighting. Haven’t you noticed the slight shake in his right hand?”
“I saw it the other day at the diner, but I didn’t think much of it. He’d just been released from a night in jail, and … I don’t know, I just let it go.”
“It’s just the way it goes,” he told her. “I fight for fun, but I have a job, a career. He doesn’t. Fighting is his life. It’s his career, it’s his fun, it’s his everything. He wants to open a gym and train others. He’s always told me about his dreams, but I wasn’t sure how serious he was.”
Her back straightened, and a smile began curving at the corners of her mouth. “This is good news. He’s maturing. Giving up that barbaric fighting nonsense and opening a gym. A legitimate business. If he has some cognitive degeneration from the concussions, maybe it can be reversed, or at least it shouldn’t progress any further.” Shelet out a breath. “Whew—I thought you were going to give me bad news.” She squeezed his hands, and her eyes beamed.
He didn’t want to be the one to dim the light in her eyes, but he knew he was about to do just that. “Chris, he doesn’t have all the money he needs yet. He’s going to fight again in a few days. I’m afraid that because of the big purse in this fight, it’s not going to be an easy one, and I know he’s not going to back out.” And there it was! All the light in her eyes vanished. Her shoulders drooped.
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