It was a dance I hated playing. But I’d do it for the gym. For Dean, even though he’d never appreciate it. But most importantly, to pay the mortgage on the gym and not have to resort to selling the place to someone who’d tear it down and slap up gentrified condos. Besides, Parker Brown—despite the enormity of her gorgeous brain—was in over her head here. She didn’t need Dean. He’d have fucked this up already by irritating the hell out of Fairchild. She needed me.

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” I asked, wrapping an arm around her once again, and giving into the urge to nuzzle her hair. God, she smelled good. I’d have to get used to that. And the way touching her made my dick immediately perk up.

Down, boy.

She smiled so tight and fake, I wanted to laugh. Her hand came down on my thigh—way too close to said dick. Pale pink nails sank into my flesh, her grip hard enough to feel even through my jeans.

That’s a bite I’ll be feeling later. She really was cute in an angry pixie sort of way.

“You’re too sweet, lumpy,” she gritted out.

Lumpy? I huffed a small laugh.

“You two been together long?” Fairchild asked as the waitress set down our drinks.

“Feels like forever,” Parker said lightly.

“I admit, I’m surprised to see you here,” Fairchild went on, taking a sip of his Scotch. “The whole time you were fighting, you always had a new lady on your arm.” He chuckled. “I remember one fight, Morgan showed up with three women,” he said to Jackson. “One on each arm and one leading the way to the ring.”

This fucking guy.

I wanted to meet Parker’s gaze and give her a commiserating look. Not that I thought she’d appreciate it right now; the woman was tight as a drum and nearly vibrating with irritation. “Eh, well… when you know, you know.”

I saluted Parker with my beer before taking a deep pull. I didn’t know shit about romantic love. But for a chance to save everything I did love, I’d fake it. With that, I leaned forward, bracing my forearms on the table—much to Miss Priss’s evident dismay.

“Forget the women,” I told Fairchild. “Did you ever hear the story about the time I met Donny Douglas for an underground fight?”

As expected, Fairchild’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t. When was this?”

Hook, line, and sinker. I launched into the story, knowing it would keep Fairchild entertained, that with each word, he’d want me around more—and Parker by extension. Yeah, she needed me. She just didn’t know it yet. But she would.

Four

Parker