The Boxer (Modern Love Book 2) Page 3

Our turn comes, and Lennon leans over the edge of the bar.

  “Okay, Ted.”

  She knows his name?

  “What do you have? You’re hiding the good stuff somewhere.” She takes out a hundred-dollar bill and waves it in front of his face. “What will it take?”

  Ted, the burly bartender from earlier, smiles and he has an almost friendly appearance now with his lips curled upward.

  “Lennon,” he sighs. Then he turns around and moves aside two coolers.

  “Please tell me how you’re on a first-name basis with the bartender when we’ve been here for like an hour?”

  She flutters her eyelashes. “I’m friendly.”

  I let it go, and Ted comes back over with a bottle of Everclear.

  “No way, Lennon.” I shake my head, getting Ted’s attention.

  “Two, please,” Lennon says, tucking the hundred-dollar bill in his front pocket and then patting him on the cheek.

  “I’m not drinking it,” I tell her, but in usual Lennon fashion, she ignores any arguments that aren’t in agreement with her.

  “Have a nice night, ladies.” Ted smiles again, and I’m thrown once again by his attitude adjustment.

  “See you in a bit, Ted,” Lennon says and grabs the empty cup from my hand, dropping it in a nearby trashcan. Then she hands me the hundred-and-eighty-proof drink.

  I’m not a huge drinker, and I’ve seen my friends wasted on Everclear more than once. One time back in college I stopped Lennon from stripping at a frat party. Another time Whit thought a keg of beer was her boyfriend and started French-kissing the barrel. How many times have I paid taxi cleaning bills from Chase’s destructive behavior after drinking Everclear? It sucks, and I’m not about to become its next victim.

  “I said no, Lennon.” I shake my head, refusing to take the drink from her hands, but she urges me so I finally relent just to shut her up.

  “You’re going to have a one-night stand sober?” She cocks her head. “Not a good idea.”

  I roll my eyes, and Lennon doesn’t stop at the table. Rather, she leads me toward the front of the ring.

  Whit jumps off Cole’s lap, and he grabs her wrist before she can get away too fast.

  “Are you sure your lips can handle the break?” I joke, and she distorts her face into a ‘you think you’re funny’ expression.

  Cole finishes his sentence to the brothers and then stands, saying his goodbyes, and the two of them join us.

  “This is exciting,” Whit says as we’re standing in the first row by the ring, thanks to Lennon’s complete disregard for anyone around her.

  “Exciting? This is fucking awesome,” Lennon says. “How did you keep this from us, Cole?” She’s bouncing on her toes as though she’s two seconds away from crawling under the ropes and swinging fists herself.

  “Calm down, girl.” I eye her and then Whit and I each shake our heads at our best friend.

  “I’m trying to work something out with the brothers, so I only found out about it recently,” Cole admits, bringing Whitney in front of him and wrapping his arms around her middle.

  Oh, how I long for that affection again.

  I down a gulp of Everclear. Lennon puts her arm around my neck and pours some of her drink into mine.

  “Lennon! No.”

  “Shh… you need it more than me,” she whispers in my ear and then the music stops and bodies push against my back.

  “Oh, it’s starting,” Whitney coos and Lennon releases me only to start jumping up and down like we’re in the middle of a mosh pit.

  She doesn’t know these men, so I have no idea why she’s so invested.

  Sammie weaves through the ropes with a microphone in his hand. He looks down at us and winks and then greets the crowd.

  “Boy, do we have a treat for you tonight. Brock Hayes and Lucas Cummings are our final fight. Let’s do introductions first.” He pauses, and the sea of people parts as a guy with a black hooded silk robe concealing his body walks toward the ring with two guys on each side.

  “Did we just step into Caesars? Seriously, he needs bodyguards?” I remark and Whitney pushes my shoulder, urging me to live a little and not dissect every minute detail.

  The guy jumps up on the ring, weaving his body through the ropes. His back is to me as he shifts his weight between each foot.

  “Gentleman and the few ladies,” Sammie says, winking to me once again. “Lucas ‘The Raging Bull’ Cummings!”

  The boxer pushes his hood off his head, stepping into the middle of the ring with his gloved fist up in the air.

  “Holy shit,” I say, and Lennon turns my way. “That’s him.” My stomach clenches and heat flares in my cheeks.

  “Your one-night stand?” Lennon steps back to my side to hear me over the cheering crowd.

  “Yeah.”

  My mouth waters as the guy who propositioned me a half hour ago strips off his robe, revealing a set of abs I’m quite positive could wash the panties I just soaked. Jesus, he’s hot, with not one ounce of fat on him. His black silk shorts have a white band of fabric around his waist that says Raging Bull.

  Lennon grabs my cup out of my hand.

  “Hey,” I say, reaching for it.

  “No, girl, you’re gonna want to be stone sober for this one. You don’t want to be like Whit the first night she and Cole got together.” She takes a sip, but I grab the cup back, knowing I need it more than I thought.

  Especially when he glances down and a perfect set of sparkling teeth emerge, revealing a smile that has me gripping Lennon’s arm for support. Then he bites his bottom lip for a second, and my fingernails dig into Lennon’s bicep.

  “Damn, I wish I saw him first.” Lennon’s voice sounds as dreamy as I feel. “You better ride him like you’re a fucking rodeo star, girl.” And there’s the Lennon I know and love.

  The vodka man, now known as Lucas Cummings, turns around, continuing to bounce on his toes.

  Sammie’s voice rings out once more, and another boxer enters with four bodyguards and a red silk robe. He weaves through the ropes and stares down Lucas. Lucas laughs, egging him on, and my gut twists.

  “The undefeated Brock ‘Lights Out’ Hayes,” Sammie announces, and the guy jumps around the ring, waving both fists in the air.

  Lucas turns back toward us, but his attention is focused solely on another guy. A small man rushes in the ring, putting Vaseline on his cheeks and forehead.

  “This is the real deal.” The excitement in Lennon’s voice increases.

  Lucas keeps peeking over at me, an uptick on his lips each time. Eventually, the guy who I assume is his manager glances over our way to see what’s distracting him.

  Whit tugs on my arm and leans in close. “Someone has caught the boxer’s attention,” she whispers and I wish my cheeks didn’t heat like they are.

  “Because he’s thinking of all the ways he’s going to fuck her later,” Lennon adds, turning her head for only a second.

  “What?” Whitney asks, in the dark on the whole situation.

  “I met him at the bar. He asked me to meet him after,” I say, and Whitney’s eyes crinkle as if she doesn’t think that’s a good idea. So thinks the girl who resorted to Tinder.

  “Like you’d do that,” she says confidently, and I bite my lower lip. The lip that is now a little tingly from what I assume is the Everclear. “Tahlia, don’t you think you should wait for your second one-night stand for someone of his…caliber?”

  Cole peeks over her shoulder. “I met him a few weeks ago when I came to watch the fights. Seems like an okay guy.”

  Whitney raises her hand, and it smacks Cole in the face. He grabs his nose.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She glances at him for a second before her eyes set on me again like a mother scolding her teenager.

  “No, babe, it’s my fault. I know better than to try to get in the middle of a conversation between you three.” Cole touches his nose a few times and wiggles it around.

  “Guess you’re not the kin
da guy to jump in that ring then.” Lennon laughs and points at him. Cole raises his eyebrows in her direction.

  “Are you challenging me, Lennon?” Cole asks and the three of us laugh.

  Whitney waves her hands around. “Forget that. Tahlia, you can’t go have a one-night stand with someone like him.”

  I look past Whitney to Cole. “I think you need to go over the one-night stand rules. First one being, you don’t know the person. Second qualification, you pick the hottest guy.”

  Cole laughs, but Whitney only becomes more agitated. I’m not sure why she’s giving me trouble. She’s the one who brought me here tonight.

  “Tahl,” she sighs.

  “Whit,” I mimic her tone. “I’m a grown woman. I’ll be fine.”

  Lennon elbows me a few times. “The blood is about to spew,” she says and jumps up, screaming, “Go, black shorts!”

  Lucas turns around to Lennon and then cocks an eyebrow in her direction. For a second, jealousy spikes within me, but when his gaze turns to me and he smirks, I melt. Unable to deal with the thought that the guy up in the ring could be inside of me in a few hours, I tip the rest of my Everclear and down it.

  4

  The fight is over before I even get a second to appreciate the barbaric concept of beating the shit out of another human being. Blood smears the floor of the ring, but that’s nothing compared to the cut above Lucas’s eye or the redness over his entire body. Why would anyone want to do this?

  “Your boy won!” Lennon raises my hand like I have some sort of investment in his win.

  Oh, wait, I do. He was the underdog, and I bet one hundred dollars on him. Well, I’ll be damned.

  I tug my arm down, and Lennon is jumping around like an ankle-biting Chihuahua.

  Then, out of the blue, with a group of people following him, Lucas slinks under the last rope and I stand there speechless as he approaches me.

  “I’m going to run into the shower,” he says as I focus on the cut, wondering if my lips will heal it. Girls hover behind him, as do guys, waiting for his attention.

  “Okay.”

  He steps closer, and Lennon backs up while Whitney stands closer. Lucas’s eyes shift toward Whit for a second and he must notice Cole. He extends his hand toward Cole, and I miss his attention already. Seriously, am I this horny?

  “Hey. Cole, right?” he asks.

  Cole steps forward, shaking his hand. “Yeah, great fight.”

  “Thanks. Hayes is a son of a bitch, but maybe tonight was his off night.”

  “Or you’re a badass,” Lennon chimes in and Lucas’ vision shifts to her.

  He smiles. “You were my own little cheerleader.” He puts his hand out in front of her. “Lucas.”

  “Lennon.” She hip-checks me, and since I have no muscle holding my body up at the moment, I knock into Whit, who falls into Cole, a weight solid enough to hold us. “I’m this one’s friend.”

  Their hands drop and I get Lucas’ solo attention again, and my stomach grows giddy. “I hope she has room for one more friend,” he says, and a growl comes out of Whitney’s mouth while Lennon rears her head back in laughter.

  “Let’s put it this way, Lucas…” Lennon continues overriding the conversation.

  Again, his eyes shift to her. “Don’t tell me the list is full,” he says, with mock indignation.

  “She’s scratching names off the list for you, buddy,” Lennon says, and then a guy walks by, and her eyes follow him like a dog chasing a butterfly. “See you girls later.” She raises her hand, and another huff leaves Whitney’s mouth.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Lucas says, holding his hand out to her.

  She stares down at it and back up to him and then back to his hand. Cole nudges her, and she eventually shakes his hand.

  “I’m Whitney, her conscience for tonight.” She nods her head to the side at me.

  I laugh, and his eyes flicker to me. Cole wraps his arms around his girlfriend’s shoulders.

  “Excuse us, Lucas. My girlfriend needs to remember she’s not Tahlia’s mother.”

  The two of them leave even with Whitney’s reservations. I swear I can feel her eyes in the back of my head.

  “Tahlia, huh?” Lucas asks, and I’m so busy examining the injuries on his beautiful face, I forget he’s speaking to me until he touches my shoulder. Like a jolt of electricity, I’m alert.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I ask, focusing on his beautiful green eyes staring right back at me.

  “Your name, Tahlia, it’s beautiful,” he says and the way he says my name is so soft and gentle, I’m not as concerned about going home with him.

  Then someone knocks into me, pushing me forward, and I knock into him. The sweat still trickling down his chest makes my hands slide down his sculpted abs until the front of my hand grazes the front of his shorts and I’m pretty sure the half-hard thing I just felt is his dick. Unable to step back because of the people wanting to talk to him, I try to remove myself, but I’m locked.

  He glances down at me, a cocky smile in place. “All you had to do was ask. I’d never turn down a hand job.”

  Utter mortification. Blood surges through my body, and I can only imagine that my face resembles Ronald McDonald’s nose.

  The group behind me and the group behind him are growing impatient, so he grabs my shoulders, shifting me to his side. “Go get something to drink. I’ll meet you by Shawn.” He winks, and just like that I realize that I forgot all about my bet. “You can collect your winnings and then you can finish that hand job.” A playful grin pulls up one side of his mouth.

  I have no words, no banter back because I don’t do jokes and comebacks. I’m not someone with quick wit who can hammer out jabs or insults right back, so I smile.

  “Okay,” I say and slide through the masses of people back to my friends.

  Lucas gets swallowed up by the crowd, all eager for his attention, and I wonder why all these people want a piece of him.

  A half hour later, I’m on my second glass of Everclear with a pocket full of winnings and Whitney’s seemed to relax about Lucas. She’s so overprotective of me, always handling me with tender hands. But I’m a big girl who’s managed to survive this long.

  But apparently, this big girl isn’t prepared for the way Everclear hits me after I finish consuming it. My lips are past the tingling, my head is past the lightheadedness, and if I could step outside of my body for a moment, I’d see myself dancing in the middle of the bar with Lennon.

  I circle around, and two emerald eyes stop me mid-hip swing. Lucas is just sitting there, leaning back in a folding chair, one ankle casually resting on his opposite knee. His cut hand is wrapped around a Solo cup as he brings it up to his lips and takes a slow drink. My eyes fix on his, unable to turn my gaze away. I’m not sure how long I stand there in the middle of Lennon’s makeshift circle before she places her two hands on my back and pushes me forward.

  Remember when I said Everclear was bad? My foot gets stuck on something, and I pitch forward.

  Could I have fallen into Lucas’ lap? Possibly.

  Could I have given his dick another graze of my hand? I wish.

  Instead, I bypass Lucas and catapult onto the table, knocking down every last pitcher and cup. I fail to grab hold of anything as the slickness from the spilled drinks makes my body slide across the table, and I crash into the ground.

  The music screeches to a halt, as does the cacophony of people talking. I squeeze my eyes shut. Whitney and Lennon rush to my side, each grabbing an arm to help me up. There’s no way I can look into Lucas’ eyes at this point, nor can I fathom sleeping with him after this mortification.

  They get me to my feet and Cole comes over, looking my body over for any sign of injury.

  “I’m fine. Just get me out of here,” I whisper-yell.

  “It was just a drunken fall. No biggie,” Lennon says.

  “I told you she couldn’t handle Everclear,” Whitney snaps at Lennon.

  �
��Stop treating her like she’s damaged goods,” Lennon snaps back, letting go of my arm.

  “Her fiancé was cheating on her! They were together for seven years. She’s not the kind of girl who goes out on the prowl drinking and having one-night stands.” Whitney’s voice rises, and I’m sure everyone in the vicinity can overhear them. I dread looking over at Lucas so I don’t.

  “Stop talking,” Cole shouts over us, trying to be the voice of reason.

  “He’s your brother. The douche, the asshole!” Lennon baits because she’s as drunk as me.

  This whole night out was a terrible idea.

  “Just because we share blood doesn’t mean I agree with what he did. I don’t condone cheating, Lennon.” His voice signifies that she does.

  “Everyone stop,” I say, my voice low.

  “Still, though. Tahl needs to live a little, Whit. She was playing house while he was busy trying to be Hugh Hefner. If she wants to sleep with boxer boy, let her,” Lennon yells and I groan, not from the pain in my hip from the fall—because I’m certain a huge bruise will be there tomorrow—but because I glance away from our group to find Lucas intently listening to every word.

  “Thanks, girls. Thanks.” I unhook my arms from them and stomp away.

  “I’m sorry,” Whitney says, rushing to my side.

  “Me too. We should have kept our mouth shut.” Lennon pulls up on my other side.

  I remain silent because these two just embarrassed me in front of a drool-worthy guy even more than I already did myself.

  “I’ll get the car,” Cole says, walking past us, and he disappears toward the parking lot.

  The three of us stand there, and both of them look me over as though I’m splintered glass about to shatter. The music has picked up again, and people are laughing and having a fun time. Hopefully, too inebriated to remember the girl who faceplanted across the table in the morning. God, what if someone had a camera and I end up being the next YouTube sensation?

  I groan.

  “Tahlia.” The softness of Lucas’ voice helps to calm my frazzled nerves.

  I look up to find his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, a duffle bag swung over his shoulder, and his eyes silently begging me to say yes to whatever he’s about to ask me.