Rough Around the Edges (15 page)

He let his gaze wander over her loose waves, which were fanned in disarray over the pillow she was resting her head on. The light was catching the curls by her temple and at the top of her head again. “You look like you’re wearing a halo.”

“What?”

“Your hair – there are all these little curls sticking up, and the light coming in through the window is shining on them. It makes it look like there’s a ring of golden light around your head.”

She raised a hand and pressed it to her skull, sweeping it over her head. The light-catching curls were resilient – they sprang back up as soon as she flattened them.

He caught her by the wrist and pulled her hand away from her hair, towards him. “I like it.”

She lowered her hand and her fingers slipped away from his, but the lapse in contact was only momentary. A second later, she placed her hand on his stomach and traced his abs, her fingertips soft as she explored his skin.

It tickled a little, but he didn’t move. He wouldn’t waste a chance to be touched by her. Relaxing, he lay still, mind and body attuned to the soft brush of her touch.

When her fingers faltered, hitting a bump, it snapped him out of his state of post-sex bliss.

“What happened here?”

He’d forgotten about it. For the first time in almost a year, the twisted trail of scar tissue that wound down his left thigh had slipped his mind so thoroughly he hadn’t even thought about it during sex, hadn’t realized where her hand had been heading. He didn’t have to look down to see it, though – the pattern and texture of it was already in front of his mind’s eye.

“Shrapnel. From an IED blast.” There was no reason not to be honest about it – not now that she’d seen the scar and they’d been so intimate. Still, he hated the feel of the words on his tongue. They were uncomfortable in his head and even more uncomfortable once spoken.

“Oh.” She kept her hand there, her fingertips resting against a particularly thick knot in the long scar. “You were deployed to the Middle East?”

“Afghanistan. Spent about eight months there.”

She resumed her motions, tracing his scar just like she had the ridges of his abs and the slashing lines of muscle at his hip. “Is it still painful?”

“Sometimes my leg feels a little stiff if I haven’t moved it in a while – usually when I wake up, but it’s not that bad.” Really, it was more like every time he woke up, but it didn’t matter – if he moved around enough, he was always able to work the kinks out of the muscle. Eventually.

“Could’ve been a hell of a lot worse, anyway. They put all kinds of shit in those bombs – bolts, ball-bearings and whatever else they can think of that’ll rip someone apart. This—” he laid a hand on top of hers, pressing her palm flat against a ridge of raised tissue “—is like a scratch compared to the damage those things can do.”

It was true, but he tried not to think deeply about it, even as he spoke. His mind wanted to wander down the paths remembering exposed and it was a struggle to stop it. He focused on Ally – the feel of her skin against his, the smell of her shampoo and the warmth of her breath on his arm – in an effort to stay in the present.

He didn’t have much feeling in the area around his scar, but he could detect the pressure her fingers exerted as they curled against his thigh. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”

It could have been. Easily. Sometimes we wondered why it hadn’t been. In that moment, with his body still flooded with the effects of being united with hers, he was glad that hadn’t been the case.

* * * * *

He took her to the gym and helped her with her kicks, just like he’d promised. Melissa had helped her smooth out her technique, but he coached her practice anyway. “Don’t forget to rotate your foot. And let your arm move with it. Yeah. Like that.”

Her form was pretty beautiful, really. So was her ass in her spandex workout capris, but he didn’t say that out loud. He stared, though, knowing she was focusing on her target. Yeah, it had only been about an hour and a half since they’d slept together, but his gaze was still just as drawn to her body.

Not that sex hadn’t been satisfying. It had been. In fact, he was tired. Not so much from physical exertion, but from a pervading sense of disbelief that lingered in the back of his mind, wearing him out. She’d spent the night by his side. She’d slept with him. And she was still with him, apparently happy with his company. It was so good it was hard to wrap his mind around.

He’d wanted things to go like this – had thought about them going like this, but the reality was still a surprise.

“How am I doing?” She paused, raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. Obviously, she knew she was kicking ass.

“Great.” He told her anyway, liking the way her smile widened. “You’ll win tonight. I know it.”

She held his gaze. “You’ll be there, right? To watch, I mean.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Had she really thought he’d skip out on her fight?

“Okay. I’m going to go home and get ready. Guess I’ll see you then?”

“You will. How are you planning to get home?”

“I usually walk.”

“Not today. Let me give you a ride.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” It wasn’t like it’d be an act of generosity. He wanted to be with her, didn’t want his time with her to end. The morning had been perfect. What if that ended when they parted? Some part of him wanted to draw their togetherness out, wanted to pull her close and keep her there until it was time for her to step into the ring.

But that was ridiculous. She should go home and do whatever she needed to prepare. “Ready to go?”

“Let me get my bag and my jacket out of my locker.”

Before she turned, she gripped one of his hands and squeezed. The contact only lasted for a couple seconds, but the heat of her touch remained on his skin as she walked away.

* * * * *

Watching Ally get hit wasn’t exactly enjoyable, but watching her retaliate filled Ryan with a sense of pride. Maybe that was dumb considering he’d only helped her with her kicks for about an hour, but either way, he liked seeing her take the upper hand in the ring. The other woman she was fighting was taller and had longer reach, but Ally was landing two punches for each one her opponent managed and she’d worked in one of those kicks they’d practiced, too.

The stand-up combat didn’t last. The fight went to the ground when Ally’s opponent swept her there, and Ally ended up in the other woman’s guard.

Ally straightened her spine, pressed her hands to her opponent’s hips and dug her elbows into the woman’s thighs. It took some struggling, but eventually she escaped.

She seized the other woman’s arm, but not for an armbar. Instead, she pinned the limb back against the mat in a wristlock – a move that ended the match when the other woman tapped out.

It felt good to see her win, to see the look of tired satisfaction on her face as she rose from the mat. The crowd – not as big as the ones the men’s fights drew, but not insubstantial – cheered and applauded. Ryan joined them.

She was so pretty, even when her hair was a tousled mess and her face was flushed and shining with the effort of the fight. Cameron did the women’s nights justice – the women who competed there were athletes and the matches were serious, just like the men’s. But still, as he stared at Ally, he couldn’t help but see a beautiful woman. Surely everyone else did, too. She was gorgeous no matter what she was doing.

And she was looking in his direction as she climbed out of the ring. Cameron was at her side, congratulating her. But she only glanced at him for a moment before meeting Ryan’s gaze again.

“Nice kicks,” he said when she reached him. “Nice fight.”

“Thanks.” She was still breathing hard from the match, but she was smiling.

He walked with her as she made her way to the locker room. “Here,” he said, offering her a bottle of water when she paused near the entrance.

“Thanks.” Her fingertips brushed his when she accepted it, their heat a welcome contrast to the frigid condensation that had accumulated on the bottle’s sides. “It’s ice-cold. Where’d you get it?”

“The fridge in Cameron’s office.” He couldn’t help but grin when an expression of disbelief flashed across her face.

“Are you kidding? He guards that thing like it’s buried treasure.”

It was true – Ryan hadn’t been a member of Knockout for long when he’d first noticed that Cameron tended to hover near the mini fridge like a dog with a particularly juicy bone. “He’s playing nice today because I have something he wants.”

“What’s that?” Ally leaned back, her shoulders flat against the brick wall.

“Me.”

“Whoa. I thought he had a girlfriend.” There was a teasing light in her eyes as she looked him up and down with a half-smirk.

“Ha. I mean he wants
me
to fight next weekend.”

“Didn’t you already tell him you were planning to?”

“Yeah, but there’s been a slight change of plans. He’s rented out a larger venue for the weekend. He’ll need to fill most of the seats to make a profit. So, he wants to advertise something special to draw people in. That something is a fight between me and some guy he’s talked into coming down from Philly to compete. He’s supposed to be a total badass or something. Undefeated.”

“And Cameron wants you to defeat him?”

“Exactly.” He was already looking forward to it.

“What did you say?”

“I told him I’d be there. But not before he promised me twice the usual prize money just for competing. More if I win. Oh, and he’s giving me some training sessions at no cost, too.” He was also looking forward to the extra benefits Cameron had promised him.

“Wow, he really is in a generous mood. Are you sure he hasn’t got a crush on you?”

He returned her grin as she reached for him, touching a hand to his jaw. “I’m going to get a quick shower before we get out of here. If Cameron tries anything while I’m in there, tell him you’re mine.”

“I’ll do that.” The heat of her fight-warmed hand lingered on his jaw after she disappeared into the locker room, and his head buzzed faintly, as if he’d just been hit, only there was no pain, just a faint sense of shock. He really was hers – the fact that he was standing there like an idiot, stunned just because she’d said so, even in jest, was proof of it.

* * * * *

Stressful days guaranteed nightmares. That was why Ryan had spent the afternoon and evening trying to shove thoughts of work tension out of his mind. Easier said than done. The company had picked up another project that would begin in a couple weeks and would require extra hours – ones Ryan could actually swing.

But he hadn’t been asked. The same guys who were working the government repair job had been invited and they’d jumped at the chance for more overtime.

It wasn’t even really being denied the opportunity to earn overtime pay that grated. It was the fact that his foreman had been treating him like he was some kind of slacker ever since he’d turned down the chance to work on the government building job. He was obviously out of favor – what if he lost his job?

He needed it. He didn’t have much, but if he lost his position with the roofing contractor, he could kiss what he did have goodbye.

He’d managed to forget about the issue – mostly – while at the gym, but returning to his empty apartment had been like stepping inside his own head, away from the world and surrounded by the crushing pressure of his own thoughts. It was quiet, so damn quiet, but the silence spoke to him, saying things he didn’t want to hear.

Laying his head down on a cool pillow sometime around eleven wasn’t even a relief. Before his skin managed to heat the cotton pillowcase, he’d slipped into sleep and the dream.

He’d had it dozens of times if he’d had it once, and that was only counting the times he could remember.

It didn’t always end the same, but it usually started out the same – riding through the desert in the Humvee, part of a convoy that dominated the road, separate from civilian traffic.