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“My coach. Timmins is the best.” Then he frowned. “Ex-coach, I mean.”
I sat up. “What? He dropped you because you lost?”
“No, of course not. Actually, I dropped him.” He scratched his stubbled jaw and blew out a breath. “I quit, Mia. Hung up my gloves. I’ve been wanting to for a long time.”
Surprise shot through me, followed swiftly by pride. He had enough sense of self to walk away from a fight he’d lost without gunning for a rematch. That took a lot of cojones. I started to say as much, but he cut me off, his expression disturbingly earnest.
“And today, I started the paperwork to enroll at NYU. They have a great online program. In case, you know, I’m not here.” He grabbed my hand and folded my fingers into his. “If we’re not.”
Heat blasted through my belly, twining with something slick and slippery. I’d been feeling that same uneasy sensation ever since I’d laid eyes on him at Vinnie’s.
He wanted to come with me. Us, Carly and me. He didn’t know where we were going—I didn’t even know—but he was willing to come along anyway.
For a moment I could barely breathe, let alone speak. I was so confused and overwhelmed that I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Okay. I’ll check out The Cage. On one condition.”
He flashed that heartstopping grin. At least it stopped mine. “What?”
“I want you to train me.”
Chapter Thirty
Tray
In one day’s time, I’d walked away from one career, took steps to begin pursuing another, and stumbled into an all-new job. And I got a girlfriend, even if I wasn’t sure she’d ever let me call her that.
I expected Timmins to rip me a new one for even suggesting I could train someone at The Cage who wasn’t a member yet. The woman I’d talked him into possibly training, no less.
But he only asked me for some tape of Mia, and once he’d watched it, said she was in and so was I, on the other end of the desk. He put me on a strict probationary period, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t looking to be a trainer long term. I just wanted to help her win. End of story.
Timmins was just humoring me with the coaching thing. He figured I needed a break from fighting after my injury. He could think whatever he wanted. I wouldn’t be back. I was done.
Kizzy wasn’t thrilled to see Mia leave Mark’s, but Pierce wasn’t backing down. He was militant about getting any and all traces of MMA out of his gym. Technically people could work out for any reason they wanted to, and he couldn’t stop them. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t make the environment inhospitable as hell. Mia had expected Kizzy to quit that first night, yet she’d changed tacks and now flat-out refused to leave. Said she’d outlast some slick Brit. Somehow I doubted it, but it was hard not to admire her gumption.
Besides, I think she was
enjoying how tough I was being on Mia. They’d both probably figured I’d wimp out and give her a cake schedule. They’d been wrong.
For the week and a half I trained Mia, I put her through her paces. She’d been cut to start, but that didn’t mean I let her slack on the suicide runs or time with the kettle bell. I taught her combinations and made her kick the heavy bag until she could barely walk afterward. We practiced grappling and striking for hours. Grueling, occasionally unintentionally erotic hours.
And if I enjoyed how adept she became at pinning me, who could blame me?
With another couple of months of training, she’d be more than qualified for the real circuit. Hell, who was I kidding? She already was.
Thank God she wasn’t interested in going pro. I couldn’t have stood watching her get beat up and bloodied month after month. Bad enough I’d have to be in her corner tomorrow night.
Tomorrow night. God. I couldn’t think about it or I’d go insane. I was halfway there already.
“Red or blue?” Mia held up two boxes of candles. She’d planned a little get-together tonight for Carly’s birthday tonight at their apartment.
I’d planned an afterparty for the two of us at mine, but she didn’t know that yet.
We’d been kind of taking it easy on the sex stuff considering my surgery was coming up, and Mia claimed she’d read that extra strain could affect the swelling around my eye. I’d gone along with it, mostly because I wanted her to know I wasn’t with her just to get laid. I wanted the whole relationship enchilada too.
Tonight, though, I wanted sex. Hard driving, mind-erasing fucking and sweet, slow making love. I wanted us, alone and blocking out everything else in the world. I wanted tomorrow to never come.
“Blue,” I said automatically, adjusting my hold on the handful of balloons I clutched.
“Blue?” She frowned. “But Carly’s favorite color is red.”
