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“She doesn’t want to live with you when you’re back, anyway. She’s not too happy about the idea of living with a guy.”
“Well, the doc says I’ll be in here for a while.”
I squeezed the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and thumb.
“Did you see Donovan Friday night?” Les asked. “Or should I say, did he see you?”
I hung my head, my blood heating at the mention of Donovan’s name. “I didn’t notice him before I got there, but I’m sure he saw me as I dragged your busted arse out.”
“I’m sorry for that, man, I really am. Shit, are you okay?” The crack in his voice got my attention. “I didn’t think about how you showing up at the fight, seeing me like that . . .”
I fidgeted with the band of my watch and cleared the emotion from my throat. “I’m grand,” I lied. “Anyway.” Anna’s thick, reddish-blonde hair and green eyes flashed to my mind. “So, uh, Anna is entirely too hot for you. Don’t even bother hitting on her.”
Les laughed and threw the TV remote at me. It bounced off the floor and the back popped off, scattering two batteries. “I knew it.”
“Yup. Way too good for you,” I joked, hoping to lighten his mood. Hell, mine, too.
“Do you have a picture? I didn’t ask her for a photo when we emailed because I didn’t want to come off as creepy.”
I shook my head. “Sure, because letting her think you were a woman isn’t strange.”
“Just tell me what she looks like, man. It’ll help with the pain.”
“No! You should be taking your meds for the pain. Once you’re better, I’ll be kicking your arse myself.” I folded my arms, the muscle in my jaw ticking. My best friend could have died.
“I’ve gotta fight Frankie again. I can’t go out like this.” Les’s voice was deep—determined.
I jumped to my feet, closing in on him. He rolled his neck casually, his eyes on me. “Hell no!” My hands trembled at my sides. “You’re not fighting again. Especially Frankie. You hear me?” I could be determined, too.
“Are you my coach?” Les snarled through gritted teeth.
“No, but I’m one of the last friends you have, so ya better listen to me. You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep it up. Donovan doesn’t give a damn what happens to you as long as he makes money.” My voice was calm, despite the anger that pierced through me. I knew bloody well he wasn’t going to listen. The need to fight coursed through his veins like a drug addiction.
Les looked away from me, and I wasn’t sure how to interpret his silence.
“I have to go,” I said a few moments later. “I need to get some air.” I’d known when the nurse called me during breakfast, telling me that Les wasn’t taking his meds, that this conversation wouldn’t be a pretty one. But this was much worse than I’d thought.
CHAPTER FIVE
ANNA
This was not how I had wanted to spend my first day of work.
Standing in the women’s bathroom, I blotted at the coffee stain on my white satin blouse. Damn the guy who’d bumped into me on the bus this morning! Thank goodness my coffee had cooled since I left the house—the thought of a burnt nipple was more than I could imagine.
I rubbed my shirt a few more times with the wet paper towel, and then tossed it and propped my hands on the granite counter in front of me. “Just great.”
I turned and looked at myself in the full-length mirror mounted on the wall near the door. How bad was it?
My black pencil skirt hit mid-thigh on my bare legs. I had ripped not one, but two pairs (my only two pairs) of stockings, trying to get them on that morning. I wasn’t sure if women were expected to wear pantyhose at work anymore, so maybe I was off the hook on that one.
My black pumps looked okay. The rain had poured down on me after I left breakfast yesterday and hadn’t let up until late last night, but I’d managed to avoid all the muddy puddles on my way to work.
But what would I do about my blouse? There was a horrible, brown wet blob over my boob. Sure, that wouldn’t draw too much attention to my breasts.
I released a breath of pent-up air, grabbed my purse, and stalked toward my image. I gave myself one last look—more like a scowl—and then swung open the door to the gray, two-story lobby.
My office was inside the McGregor headquarters. I wondered if I’d meet the owners, or the “pricks” as Adam had referred to them, while working here.
