Against the Ropes (3 page)

“Here,” Brett said, sitting down and handing her the beer. “Cheers.”

She tried to calm the nerves in her stomach as she met Brett’s gaze. “Cheers.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Dylan paced the fifteen-by-fifteen foot room trying to focus before the fight. The grey, industrial-grade carpet that was the same shade as the walls, muffled his footsteps. It reminded him of a jail cell—just a little bit bigger.

“About fifteen to twenty minutes,” Max said, walking into the room.

Dylan nodded.

“What’s on your mind, Dylan? You’ve been quiet. Too quiet.”

Dylan looked over at the man he considered his best friend as well as a father figure. Max had known him for too long, and it was hard to get anything by him.

“Regan’s here.”

Max’s thick eyebrows took a hike for his hairline, surprise shining in his eyes. “Really?”

Dylan nodded. “I saw her when we were walking through the casino. I . . . I didn’t say anything.”

Max was quiet for a moment, and then nodded. “There isn’t much to say.”

Dylan continued his pacing.

“I wonder if she’ll be at the fight,” Max said.

“Me too.”

When Dylan turned around, Max was in his path, and he stopped up short. “You need to focus, Dylan. You have too much riding on this.”

“I know, Max. I know.”

“My prostate’s acting up again,” Max mumbled. “I gotta take a leak.”

As Max left, Dylan couldn’t focus on the present, but the past came crashing back at him.

He knew from the second he laid eyes on Regan in that physical therapy office that she was his. Her big brown eyes against her porcelain skin, her straight blonde hair, and the long, lithe body made her the prettiest woman he had ever seen. Her laugh was deep and throaty, and he loved the dimple in her cheek when she smiled.

They began dating after six physical therapy appointments. The sexual tension between them was a low hum at their first meeting and only got stronger after that. By the time he asked her out, he was practically shaking with desire for her as she manipulated his shoulder.

“I want to take you out to dinner,” he said, lying on the table, her face inches from his as she worked on his arm. How he wanted to pull her head down and close that small space to taste her lips.

“You do?” she said, her cheeks rosy.

“Yes.”

She was silent for a moment, but he knew she wouldn’t say no. In the six hours of therapy appointments they had spent together, he knew she could feel the connection they shared. A slow blush tinged her cheeks when they held eye contact a little too long, and sometimes he swore he could feel heat coming off her body as she worked on his shoulder. Talking with her was easy, and it was apparent they had a lot in common. They enjoyed the same movies, loved the outdoors, and both hated Indian food. She seemed very happy to see him at every appointment and greeted him with her megawatt smile that made his insides feel mushy. She had to say yes because he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“If I need to find a new therapist for you to say yes, then I will.”

She stopped massaging his arm, stood to her full height and looked down at him. He swung his legs over the edge of the table and took her hands in his. “Are we done?”

Gently, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the pulse on her wrist and met her gaze.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And you’ll let me take you to dinner?”

They stared at each other for a moment, and he found himself praying for a “yes” to leave her lips. He gave her hand a squeeze, and decided he wasn’t above begging if it came down to it.

“Okay,” she said quietly, and then smiled. “When?”

“Tonight,” he said. No sense wasting time. “If you’re free.”

She was, and he had taken her to the best Mexican food joint in the part of his neighborhood where he was sure they wouldn’t be shot at. José, his best friend, worked in the kitchen and did them up right with some enchiladas and tamales. Dylan loved that she didn’t seem to mind being on this side of town where things could get dicey at a moments notice. In fact, she seemed very comfortable, and that made him like her even more.

“That was wonderful,” Regan said, sitting back in her chair. “I don’t think I can eat any more!”

Dinner had gone well, and he liked the fact that she actually wolfed down the food. Living in L.A., he’d been on some dates where the woman ordered a salad, or barely touched what was on her plate. A woman who actually ate was something unique in this town.

 They talked effortlessly, and halfway through the meal, Dylan solidified his thoughts that he had found someone special.

After that date, they spent every moment together they possibly could.

He remembered the first time he had the pleasure of taking her to bed. It had been exactly three weeks after their first date, and they were at her apartment. The lovemaking had been achingly slow, as he never wanted it to end. Dylan learned her body over and over again, his lips and his hands finding every crevice, dip and groove of her soft frame. He remembered that night clearly, and thinking about it now made him smile and made his heart ache for what he had lost.

Once Regan was in his life, things started to change quickly. Max grew to love her like a daughter and didn’t mind having her around, which said a lot considering he banned Dylan’s last girlfriend from the gym. Regan gave him the confidence he needed to work harder to make his dreams a reality.

She kept him grounded so everything didn’t seem so overwhelming, and supported him fully, even during the times when he didn’t believe in himself.

“You can do this, Dylan,” she had said one night as they lay in bed after making long, slow, burning love, the fan on the beside table blowing cool air on their hot, tangled bodies. A promoter was having doubts about whether he wanted Dylan on a particular card that would be televised nationally, and Dylan was feeling a little beaten up. She laid her hand on his chest, still damp with sweat, the room permeated with the sweet, musky smell of sex. “I know you can. We’re in this together, right?”

He had gathered her in his arms and pulled her to his side. Kissing the top of her head, he said, “You’re right. We are in this together, baby.”

She accompanied him to almost every fight and insisted on a phone call the second he was in the dressing room when she couldn’t be there. Regan was instrumental in kicking his career into gear by not only being the person that she was, but because she was able to fix his shoulder, something that two other PTs had not been able to accomplish.

But with his successes came an arrogance and surety of himself he hadn’t possessed before, which led to the actions that sent him into his downfall.

After his epic fuck-up, he had begged and pleaded with Regan to at least talk to him. Well, actually he had begged and pleaded with her voicemail. She wouldn’t return his phone calls, and she wouldn’t open the door to her apartment—except once when she threatened to call the police unless he left.

Two weeks passed, and he found himself spiraling down into a dark and ugly place. It was only when she was gone that he realized Regan had become his anchor in his busy, demanding life of hard training, meeting with promoters, and the constant planning and strategizing that went along with an athlete trying to make it to the big time. He found himself drowning his sorrows in booze, which sent Max through the roof.

“How in the fuck are you supposed to train for a fight if you can’t even get over your goddamned hangover?” he had screamed.

With the alcohol came more lapses in judgment with women. A month after the catastrophe at his apartment, he was at Max’s gym trying to work out, but lacked the energy to put much effort into it. He sat on the edge of the ring, his head in his hands. A woman named Lila he had been with the night before dropped in, much to his displeasure. As he looked her over and took in her short stout body, long black hair, red claw-like fingernails, and overly made-up face colored in blues and reds, he felt like he needed a shower. When she started rubbing his shoulders, he wanted to cry and hit something all at once while Max stared daggers at him from the middle of the ring. He didn’t have the energy to tell her to go away, and he had to admit, the massage felt great as long as he didn’t think about who was giving it to him.

Ten minutes later, the door opened and everyone turned. There stood Regan, her blonde hair windswept, her brown eyes sad. She said nothing, but stared at Dylan and gave a slight wave to Max.

Dylan shot to his feet, his breath catching in his chest. The girl rubbing his shoulders grabbed on to his arm and asked, “Who’s that, baby?”

He shut his eyes, willing her to get her claws off of him. Pulling his arm from her grasp, he walked toward Regan.

“Dylan? What’s going on with her?” Lila asked.

Regan’s eyes flitted from Lila to him, but still she said nothing.

“Hi,” he said, stopping right in front of Regan. He remembered feeling like his heart might fly right out of his chest with happiness and hope at the sight of her.

Lila had other ideas. She marched up to Regan and Dylan and laid her hand protectively on Dylan’s arm, digging her fingernails into his skin.

“Are you going to introduce me?” she asked.

Dylan couldn’t speak as Regan’s eyes filled with tears.

“Fine. I’m Lila, Dylan’s girlfriend.”

Dylan wanted to snap her neck. “No, you’re not,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You could have fooled me last night, Dylan,” Lila purred.

One tear ran down Regan’s cheek, and she turned to leave.

“Regan, don’t! Please! Let me talk to you,” he begged as he disentangled himself from Lila.

Regan turned at the door, her gaze on Lila, and then she looked back at him. “I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Regan!”

“No!” she said harshly. “Just don’t, Dylan. Don’t.”

That was the last he had seen her. It was like she’d walked out into the busy streets of Los Angeles and had simply disappeared into thin air.

And now, here she was in the same building as him, in a small casino located in the middle of the desert in Indio, California.

“It’s go-time, Dylan,” Max said from the doorway.

Dylan slipped on his white and blue robe and took a deep breath while turning to Max.

“You keep it steady, Dylan,” Max said patting his cheek. “You keep it steady and you win this. Focus.”

Dylan nodded and headed to the ring.

CHAPTER FIVE

Regan got to her feet with the crowd as Dylan was introduced. As he made his way down the aisle with Max right behind him, Dylan kept his eyes forward, his stare intense on the ring despite the throngs of people on both sides of him looking for a high-five or a picture. She smiled, recalling that she used to call it his “I-mean-business” look. He climbed up the stairs and crawled between the ropes to a crowd that burst out in a roaring round of applause. Watching him make his way around the ring and wave at his fans, Regan’s adrenaline kicked up, her heart raced and she couldn’t help but clap along with everyone else.

When he came to her side of the ring, she found herself smiling. And then he saw her. He stopped for a moment and looked at her as if he was surprised she was there, his gaze piercing, and her breath caught. He gave her the half-smile that used to make her feel mushy inside—even when she was mad at him—and then moved on to the other side of the ring.

She sat down, her heart pounding wildly. Max helped Dylan get his robe off and, despite her best intentions, she couldn’t help but feel her body warm as she admired his strong, solid physique. He looked good.

His opponent was introduced, and Regan assessed him carefully. He was a few inches shorter than Dylan, but had just as much brawn. The grooves and valleys of muscle moved smoothly under dark-as-night skin that gleamed with sweat under the lights. As he danced around the ring, she detected a vibe of uncertainty from him in the way his gaze never met Dylan’s. She joined the crowd in polite applause, but it was clear Dylan was the audience favorite.

The bell rang, and she watched as they traded jabs and punches against the cacophony of the armchair boxing coaches in the audience. She couldn’t help but feel the knot of apprehension and the thrill of the fight well up within her, and it took her back to her time with Dylan.

Flat out, the guy had swept her off her feet in the beginning, and she had been naïve enough to think that she was the one for him, that the love she thought they shared was something special for him as well. At one point in her early twenties she had thought she was in love, and perhaps she had been. However, it didn’t compare with the feelings she had for Dylan, which made his betrayal even harder to take. In fact, she had been certain it would destroy her.

The first round ended and she turned to Brett, who was studiously examining the blonde-haired ring girl prancing around in little black shorts and red halter top, with a sign over her head that read Round 2. The audience exploded in cat-calls, and the ring girl smiled at the attention. Regan found the whole thing amusing, and despite Dylan being the one in the ring and all the memories being dredged up, she was glad she had stayed. She truly loved the boxing community and everything that went along with the sport.

“Great first round,” Brett said.

She nodded. If she were a betting woman, she would call it a draw and her nerves jangled at the thought. Even though Dylan had hurt her terribly, she still wanted him to win.

As she watched Max dry Dylan’s face and talk to him, Dylan nodded, his focus on Max. The bell rang, and he was up on his feet again.

The second and third rounds were unremarkable, both boxers trading some good hits. Regan noted that Dylan seemed to be favoring his left shoulder, not throwing as many punches with it as he should have been.

The fourth round was where things got interesting.

Dylan’s opponent caught him with a hit to the left pectoral and an uppercut that sent him to the ground, right in front of Regan. She stood, along with everyone else, a collective gasp hissed through the room.