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On a sigh, she wiped down her machine and then toweled off her face. When she wasn’t berating herself, it was only because the memory of Billy’s voice intruded.
“Can we pick this up later?”
This. Meaning their conversation about the guilt that built up inside both of them, apparently. And probably also meaning the question Billy had tried to voice when they’d been interrupted by his friends.
“What do you have—” To feel guilty about… She knew without question that those were the words he’d intended to say.
Which meant that there was a one-hundred-per-cent chance that if she kept her word to resume their conversation, she would have to talk about the night Dylan died. And that Shayna really didn’t want to do.
No part of a fresh start involved telling the people new to her life about her biggest, worst, and most unforgivable failings.
Shayna didn’t want Billy looking at her with disappointment or accusation in his eyes. And she also didn’t want him telling Ryan anything she might say if she were foolish enough to give into such a conversation.
Refilling her bottle at the water cooler, Shayna muttered, “Why didn’t you keep your mouth shut?” It might’ve been the tenth time she’d asked herself that question, but that repetition was more out of a stunned shock at herself than from a lack of understanding.
She knew why.
What Billy had said about being consumed by the emotions inside him had so perfectly described how she sometimes felt. It sounded like MMA training was his outlet when those emotions became overwhelming. For her, photography was the most effective thing to allow her concentrate on something beyond herself. And that moment of relating to Billy’s words…had pulled the admission from her before she’d fully thought through the consequences of making it.
Now Billy wanted to talk further.
As Shayna headed down to the locker rooms, her stomach went on a nauseous loop-the-loop at the thought of it.
And then she saw Billy through the windows to the gym with the fighting rings where his club met. He was on his knees facing another fighter—a woman with a long black braid—while a bigger group knelt around the two of them. Shay had just enough time to appreciate that the club included women veterans before the woman attacked him.
For a long moment, they grappled with each other until Billy managed to flip the woman and pin her to the ground.
Three visceral reactions rocked through Shayna.
An almost animalistic appreciation of Billy’s brute strength.
Arousal at the memory of Billy pinning her against the wall.
And jealousy that another woman was experiencing the feeling of the weight of his body instead of her.
Shayna’s heart tripped into a sprint as she stood there, slack-jawed and wanting…
Suddenly, Billy sprang into a kneeling position again as the woman got up and moved to the outer ring of people, and it was clear that some sort of trash-talk being thrown between them from the looks on their faces and the way the others were laughing and clapping.
And then Mo moved into the center with Billy. As big as Billy was, Mo…Mo was like a mountain. His ready smile and deep laugh had earlier put Shayna at ease and allayed any concerns she’d had that she might be invading a space where she wasn’t wanted. But now Mo looked nothing short of intimidating as he stared Billy down.
The men seemed to lunge at the same time. They slammed into each other and worked to pull each other flat to the ground, and then finally they both went down. Shayna couldn’t see who had the advantage around those cheering the two men on, and she realized that she was straining and moving to the side to get a better view.
Whatever was going on, it was much longer before the fighters traded out, and this time it was Billy coming out of the center to join those on the side. A few of his teammates shook his hand before he moved outside of the group to grab his water bottle. And then he tilted his head way back to take a long drink.
And, holy mother of sweaty hot men, Billy Parrish was freaking gorgeous.
Muscles glistening. Shorts hanging dangerously low on his lean hips. Dark blond hair made even darker from sweat. Even the fingerless black gloves he wore were sexy as fuck. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank.
Shayna swallowed hard herself.
He wiped his mouth on the back of his glove and capped the bottle again, and then he did a double take as he noticed her standing in the window.
Heat absolutely roared over Shayna at having been caught so blatantly ogling him. And there was a smugness to the almost-smile he wore. But he gave her a little wave and nodded his head as if to invite her inside.
The gesture should not have made any part of her feel gooey, but it seemed her crush on her brother’s best friend had resurrected enough to indeed cause gooeyness. Whether she wanted that to happen or not.
She went inside and sat on one of the benches, giving her a much better view of the wrestling matches. And now she was close enough that she could see that the fighters only switched out when someone gave up and tapped on the floor or reached a teammate’s hand off the edge of the mat to tag out. A few more changes happened, and then Sean was in the ring up against Noah.
