Twenty minutes later, he pulled into a parking lot. Removing her helmet, she read the sign on the building. RED ROCK CLIMBING CENTER.
“Now, don’t freak out . . .”
“I . . .” she started at the same time.
“No one is great at this their first time. Just try your best and we’ll have fun, okay?” he said, taking her hand as they went inside.
She nodded. “Okay.”
Ten minutes later, harnessed up and standing in front of the easiest thirty-five-foot wall in the building, Parker looked terrified. “Are you sure about this?”
Tyson nodded, fastening her helmet. “It’s fine. I’ll be down here working the ropes. You’re safe. Trust me?” he asked.
“Should I?”
He smirked. “In here, yes.”
“Noted,” she said wryly. “Okay, where do I start?”
They moved closer to the wall, covered in multicolored holds, spaced a relatively easy distance apart. He’d seen children climb this wall. He was confident she could do it. “Just put your foot in this first hold and reach higher as you go.”
She did as he instructed.
“Great, you’re doing good.” She was about halfway up the wall, and he had a hard time focusing on her climbing and not staring at her firm, shapely ass in the tight pink leggings she wore. Damn, the woman was hot . . . and she was actually impressing the shit out of him on this wall.
She glanced down at him. “Really? You think so? How about this?” His mouth fell open as she picked up speed and flew up the wall expertly, then rappelled back down with ease.
He stared at her when she reached the bottom. “You’ve done this before.”
“Uh-huh,” she agreed. “Once or twice.”
“Right.” He pulled her harness, drawing her closer and kissing her. “You could have told me.”
“I was enjoying your macho alpha-man routine,” she said with a smile, kissing him again. Then she held up an arm, flexing a bicep. “These noodle arms are not that weak after all, huh?”
“Okay Rocky, this was the kid’s wall. Let’s see what you can do with a real one.” See how cocky she was then.
* * *
Two hours later, they’d each completed all of the walls at the rock climbing center. Her muscles ached, but she was pleased with herself for keeping up with Tyson’s time on every wall. Obviously, he hadn’t seen her movie No Limits, where she’d been a rock climbing instructor. And though it had been several years since she’d climbed, her recent weeks of muscle building had enabled her to show off a little the skills she’d acquired for the role. Sitting on a bench, removing their knee pads, he handed her a bottle of water. “You’re not bad.”
“You’re okay,” she said, taking a gulp, then handing it back.
He drained the bottle. “Just okay?”
His manly ego was really suffering that afternoon. Maybe she should ease up a little.
Nah. “Just okay . . .” She glanced at the wall behind her. “I mean, I wouldn’t expect you to enter this Ultimate Challenge Bouldering Competition or anything.” According to the poster, the Red Point Bouldering Competition was starting at the center in less than twenty minutes. Entry fees could be paid at the door and preregistration wasn’t required, but there was no way Tyson would accept that challenge, she thought smugly.
However, he stood and read the poster quickly. “I’m up for the challenge if you are,” he said, surprising her.
Shit. “You just saw my fantastic climbing ability and you want to take me on?” Maybe the thought of possibly losing to her might make him reconsider.
“You bet.”
Damn. No backing down now when she’d issued the challenge. “Okay. You’re on.”
* * *
In hindsight, the impulsive challenge probably wasn’t the best idea.
Especially when she was some sort of climbing expert. Who the fuck knew? “This is your fault,” he told her now, sitting in a ProCare Medical Clinic’s examination room.
“That’s a sore loser comment if I ever heard one,” she said, admiring her tiny third-place trophy, a little gold-plated rock climber scaling a rock wall.
“You didn’t beat me. I had to stop competing when my shoulder popped out of place,” he mumbled, clutching his arm. He closed his eyes, rocked by another wave of pain and nausea.
“Rematch anytime,” she said as the doctor entered.
“Hello, hello . . . I’m Doctor Hanly.” He scanned the file. “So—possible shoulder dislocation?” he asked Tyson.
“Yes. It feels that way.” He’d dislocated his shoulder only once before, in the middle of a fight, but at the time, he’d managed to pop the shoulder back in and continue fighting. He didn’t remember the pain being so intense. Adrenaline was an amazing analgesic.
Dr. Hanly examined the shoulder. “How did this happen?”
“Rock climbing competition,” he muttered.
“I won,” Parker said, holding up the stupid trophy as though it were an Academy Award.
“You came in third,” Tyson grumbled.
The doctor laughed. “Ah . . . now I get it. Yes, I’m afraid it is out of joint, so I’m going to have to set it back in place.”
Parker paled, standing and rushing for the door.
“Where are you going?” Tyson asked.
“I’m not watching that.”
“So, you’re just going to leave me in pain alone?”
“Don’t be a pussy. I’ll wait outside,” she said, disappearing out into the hall as the doctor held Tyson’s arm.
Don’t be a pussy. He smiled, then a second later, his shoulder was snapped into place and he swore.
“Done,” Dr. Hanly said.
“A heads up would have been nice,” he said, rubbing the shoulder. It felt a million times better, after the initial crucifying impact of the readjustment.
“It’s worse when you know it’s about to happen.” He picked up the patient file and made several notes.
“I can’t see how that’s possible, but okay,” Tyson said as he climbed off the table and reached for his leather jacket. “Thanks.”
“You still might want to ice the shoulder tonight and consider a sling if movement is stiff and painful for a few days. It’s going to take a few weeks to heal properly. Try not to work it too hard. No more rock climbing for a bit.”
A few weeks? No. “I have a fight in less than two weeks.”
“MMA fighter?”
He nodded.
“I wouldn’t recommend fighting with this injury . . . not for at least a couple of months. Once the shoulder dislocates the first time, it’s easy to reinjure it. You need to give it time to heal, otherwise if it keeps dislocating, you may need surgery.”
He shook his head. Surgery? No way. Rest? Impossible. He was defending his title in twelve days. Damn it! Why had he let his ego take over that afternoon? His competitive side had overshadowed his common sense and he’d pushed himself too hard, too fast in his attempt to beat Parker on that wall. And now he could be screwed for the challenge that really mattered.
“Do you want me to give you something for the fight officials? Let them know you can’t fight for a while?” He sat at the computer, but Tyson shook his head.
“No, that’s fine.” He had no intentions of following these doctor’s orders. By fight day, his shoulder would be fine. It had to be. “Thanks, Doc,” he said, going out into the hall.
“What did he say?” Parker said, looking worried as he approached.
“He said I’m good to go.”
* * *
Parker turned her car onto Carey Avenue later that evening. “I promise it’s nothing strenuous,” she said.
“I thought being in the cage was dangerous, turns out hanging out with you causes me more pain,” Tyson said in the passenger seat next to her, his arm wrapped in a sling he’d fabricated himself at the gym.
She smiled. “Relax . . . this will be fun.”
The entrance for the West Wind Drive-In came into view and he said, “A drive-in movie?”