“Go knock him cold, son,” he yells out without even looking up.
“That’s Rich,” Ben says, nodding to the older man. “Nate’s dad. He’s the guy I bought this place from several years ago.”
“Ah, I see the resemblance now.”
The two men in the ring circle one another, each sizing the other up. And then it’s on. Kicks and jabs. Lots of smack talk thrown.
“You’re losing it, old man,” Hunter says and sweeps his leg, taking Nate off his feet and sending him onto his back.
But Nate regains his footing quickly and gives it right back.
They go three sweaty, rough rounds. At one point, Hunter lands and hits his head, and everyone stops breathing until he stands and gives the nod that he’s okay.
“Does he have a death wish?” I ask Ben.
“It’s in his blood,” Rich says. I didn’t even notice that he’d sidled up next to me. “He needs to fight like he needs to breathe. Have you ever loved something that much?”
I blink in surprise and watch the two men as they climb down from the ring.
Do I love acting that much? Where, even if it could kill me, I’d do it anyway?
I don’t think so.
I’m thirty, and I don’t have that kind of passion for anything.
“If your wife finds out that you fought tonight,” Greg informs Hunter, “she’ll have your head.”
“She knows,” Hunter says. “I don’t keep secrets from her. Besides, I knew that Nate was getting soft. Figured he couldn’t do much damage.”
“Julianne asked me not to kill you tonight,” Nate says mildly. “I usually do as my wife asks.”
I laugh at the trash talk and enjoy several hours with the guys.
It’s late when Ben finally drops me off at the condo. When I walk through the front door, I see that Aubrey left the light on over the stove and a note on the kitchen island.
Z-
Your bed was delivered. They even made it for you. Fancy.
-A
I grin and read it twice.
Fancy.
Is that how everyone sees me? Sure, I like the finer things in life. And I’ve worked my ass off since I was a toddler in a cutthroat industry to be able to afford such things.
Nothing was handed to me.
And even if it was handed to me, so what?
“And why in the hell is this suddenly bothering me?” I turn off the kitchen light and head into my bedroom. Sure enough, the space has a bigger bed. It makes the room feel even smaller, but I don’t care.
I only plan to be here to sleep.
I do wish I had the balcony with the view, though. I would sit out there tonight and breathe in the salty air. Think about things.
“Probably overthink,” I mutter as I shed my clothes and leave the bedroom for the hall bath. I need a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.
The place might be small, but even the guest bathroom is a decent size with a big, walk-in shower. The hot water feels damn good.
When I’m finished, I dry off and sling the towel low over my hips, then grab another for my hair.
I step out of the bathroom and come face to face with Aubrey.
Her brown eyes go wide and travel the length of me, pausing at my hips.
“Sorry, I was just—I was hungry.” She swallows hard. She’s adorable in an oversized college sweatshirt that covers her to her thighs. I wonder what she’s wearing under there. “Sorry.”
“For what? You live here.” I wink and turn my back on her, then glance over my shoulder and find her staring at my ass. “What are you going to eat?”
“Huh?” She blinks and looks up at my face. “Oh. Uh, I don’t know.”
“I’ll just pull on some pants and meet you in the kitchen.”
“Oh, you don’t have—”
But I shut my door, cutting her off. Rina’s right. She’s not my type. She’s not tall and lean. She doesn’t have heavy-lidded eyes that almost dare me to touch her.
There’s not a vixen-like bone in her body.
But, damn it, there’s just something about her that I like. And I’d much rather hang out with her in the kitchen than brood by myself in my bedroom.
I pull on some sweats, forgo a shirt, and saunter into the kitchen where Aubrey’s sitting at the island, scooping up some ice cream.
“Want some?” she asks. “It’s chocolate.”
“Sure.”
When both bowls are ready, she slides one to me, then digs into hers.
“Did you have a nice evening?” she asks.
“Yeah. I was at a gym downtown, watching a sparring fight. I know the owner.”
She nods, taking another bite of ice cream.
“What about you?” I ask her.
“I wrote up some lesson plans for my first week at school, organized supplies. Listened to some podcasts.”
“What kind of podcasts?”
“Serial killers.” Her cheeks redden at the admission. I can’t help but wonder what else I could do to make her blush like that. “I like to hear about serial killers.”