This morning’s brushoff, casually dismissing her to train with Dane, had hurt.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Now that we have a bigger budget, we can hire a real female fighter body double. We just need your pretty little face on screen.”
Pretty little face? That’s all she’d ever been to him. All she’d been to Hollywood. If she’d learned anything that year, it was that as quickly as the industry could love you, they could forget about you. She wouldn’t forget that this time.
And the idea of a body double annoyed her. She’d been so excited for this opportunity to prove she was more than just the pretty face. Now, it didn’t look like she’d get that chance. “I’d really like to continue training and stick to the original filming schedule,” she said, though she doubted what she wanted mattered. It never had before.
He checked his watch. “Don’t stress over the details. Just get your sexy ass to LA on a flight next week, okay? I have to get back to the hotel now. We’re interviewing the real fighters today. Read-through tomorrow—don’t forget.”
She fought the urge to show him her new right hook as she nodded.
When he left, she scanned the gym for Tyson. He was no longer working with Dane and she was desperate to talk to him. She suspected he’d been uncomfortable and out of his element at her party. The movie industry people had a way of making everyone else feel inferior. She’d had a way of doing it too . . . before. Before she’d experienced something real with Tyson.
At least, what they’d shared had been real for her. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure he felt the same way.
“Hey, Dane, where did Tyson go?” she asked, unwrapping her hands.
“Upstairs, I think,” he said, as he kept a steady rhythm on the speed bag.
“Yeah, I saw him up there a minute ago,” Connor said as he came toward them, broom in hand.
“Thanks.”
A moment later, she knocked on his apartment door. The sound of water running inside made her try the handle. The door was unlocked, and she hesitated for just a second before going inside. The man had all but torn her dress off the night before in the middle of her party; interrupting his shower seemed like fair play.
Removing her shorts and tank top, she opened the bathroom door slowly, quietly, and walked into the steamy room. His back was turned and she could barely make out his bare body through the glass shower door, as the water poured down over him. She slid her underwear down her legs and stepped out of them, undoing her sports bra and letting both fall to the floor next to his discarded clothes.
Then opening the door, she gently placed her hands on his back as she stepped inside. His body stiffened slightly at her unexpected touch, but as her hands trailed the length of his back, he reached for them, and pulled her arms tight around his waist. She rested her head against his back, holding on tight . . . somehow knowing he was slipping even further away than before.
* * *
Damn, he didn’t want to leave her.
Tyson rolled to his side among the tangled sheets, which were still damp from their bodies, and stared at Parker sleeping peacefully, unaware of the storm raging in his heart and mind.
He traced a finger along her arm and fought the urge to wake her to have her one more time before letting her go. He wasn’t the right man for her. He wasn’t the right man for anybody when the idea of committing, the thought of putting his trust in someone, the idea of believing in a make-believe forever made him want to run.
But damn, for a little while he’d almost believed he could do it.
Now, the pain he felt reminded him why getting involved with her—with anyone—was something he never should have done.
Unfortunately, he’d had no choice. She’d gotten to him. She’d broken down his defenses, silenced the cautioning voice in his mind, and now he would know what a broken heart felt like.
He hoped walking away now would at least save him just a little.
Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling, searching for the strength to get up and leave. She moaned in her sleep and rolled to face him, but her eyes remained closed as her hand fell onto his chest.
Sliding away from her, he leaned to kiss her forehead, breathing in the smell of her, one he would miss once it evaporated from his pillow, and turned away.
Grabbing his clothes from the bedroom floor, he quietly left the room, the sickening feeling in his stomach growing stronger, knowing he was breaking her heart while she slept.
* * *
“What was that about?”
“What?” Connor asked, pushing the mop across the floor in front of the weights.
“You and Dane.” He’d walked into the gym and saw them talking quietly and he didn’t like it. He’d told his brother to stay away from the guys. He didn’t want him bringing any of his shit or any of his problems in there. He might be getting better, but Tyson was still hesitant to trust him.
Connor shrugged. “Nothing. He was just asking me if I knew about any fights cards coming up.”
“Fight cards? As in illegal, unsanctioned fights?” Motherfucker. His hands clenched.
“They are not all illegal and unsanctioned, man. There are other legitimate fighting organizations others than the MFL.”
Not ones he wanted his training camp associated with.
“Besides, not all fighters grow up with Alan ‘The Steel Fist’ Reed as a father. Some fighters only make it to the minors.”
“Dane’s not one of them. He’s already proving he can throw down with the best. He’s already fought in the MFL, and I’m working on getting him more fights.” Why was he even having this conversation with his brother? “Look, either way, it doesn’t matter. You asked for a job around the gym, just do the job. No talking to my fighters.”
Connor shook his head and mumbled something under his breath.
Tyson swung back around. “Care to repeat that a little louder?”
He stopped mopping. “I said you sound like Dad. Your fighters? What the hell, man? You act like some hotshot who can dictate to these guys what they can and can’t do.”
He was not in the mood for a lecture from Connor, the guy who couldn’t make a good decision to save his life. “I’m helping these guys be the best they can be. I wouldn’t expect you to understand anything about it.” He turned to walk away.
“Just like Dad made you the best you can be?”
He paused. His brother needed to shut up.
“Is that why you’re so far up his ass . . .”
He turned and strode back toward him. “Listen to me. If Dad knew you were back . . . if he knew I was letting you anywhere near the gym, he would . . .” He relaxed his fist and forced a calming breath. Connor hadn’t asked for the job, he’d offered it. This was all on him. He could regret the decision, but he couldn’t pass off the blame.
Connor looked past him. “I guess we are about to find out what Dad would do.”
Turning, he saw his father come into the gym. Shit. He hadn’t seen him around much since he’d gotten back from Japan. Though, with the fight drawing closer, he knew his father would be around to help.
He pointed at Connor. “Don’t open your mouth.”
He gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir, Coach.”
Tyson met his father halfway across the gym, and derailed him toward the office. “Let’s talk in here,” he said quietly.
Some of the other fighters were training and he didn’t want an audience to watch this battle with his dad.
Closing the door to his office, he waited for the “What the hell is going on speech” but his father just stared at him.
“Look, he showed up weeks ago. He needed a place to stay . . .”
His father’s gaze was on the new display case. “That’s the real story behind the broken case.” It wasn’t a question.
Tyson placed his hands on his hips. “He said he wanted to get clean. What was I supposed to do?”