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“So what am I supposed to do, then?”
She shrugs. “Normally, I would advise you to stay as far away from him as possible.”
I fling the sodden chunk of paper into the sink with a splat. “Yeah, except I have to live with him.”
Chapter five
Beads of sweat trickle down my back, my clothes clinging to my damp skin. Biking a mile in a high-tech gym is not nearly the same as pedaling through the Texas heat. I stash my ride beside the house and peel the dank blouse off my back the second I’m safe inside. A cool breeze from the ceiling fan is a momentary relief. I need a pool and a margarita, stat, but I’ll have to settle for a cold shower and Great Value Lemon Lime soda.
I turn the temp to cold and step inside. The spray beats against my back. I tilt my face up and let it trickle down my hair before turning toward it. The stress of the day seeps from my muscles and swirls down the drain.
The scent of bleach wraps around me as I tuck the end of a towel under my arm and walk out. Loud rock music filters down the hall. When my gaze catches on Jace’s closed door, the tension immediately springs back to my shoulders. Thoughts of taking a baseball bat to his windshield swim in my brain, butviolence begets violence. Better off staying on my high horse. The air’s better up here.
Shredded bits of the American flag are strewn across my bedspread. “What the hell?” I whisper, moving toward it. When I lift it off my bed, I realize it’s not shredded bits of anything. It’s a bikini decked out in the stars and stripes.
“You lose, princess. Time to pay up.” Jace’s low baritone pulls a gasp from my lungs.
I drop the suit and spin on my heels. His eyes rake over my body as if willing the towel to fall. Tucking the corner tighter, I cross my arms over my chest. “I didn’t lose. You cheated.”
“Oh, boo-hoo,” he mocks, stepping farther into my room without an invitation. “The bet had no terms. You cried. You lost. Deal with it.”
I square my shoulders. “Double or nothing.”
“You sure about that?” He swipes his hand on the edge of the towel, making it flutter up before coming back down. My pulse picks up. Warmth comes off him in droves, his spicy scent swirling with the sweet smell of my body wash. “Knowing what I know now, I may choose to sweeten the pot.”
“You’re disgusting.” It sounded much more bold in my head than it did wavering off my tongue.
“And you’re a spoiled brat who I wouldn’t touch with someone else’s dick.”
I grit my teeth, balling my hands into fits. “I hate you.”
“Good! The feeling is mutual. Maybe you’ll stay the fuck out of my way from now on.” He swipes the bikini off the bed and holds it up like a swinging pendulum. “But a deal’s a deal, and I’ve come to collect.” The suit sails from his hand and bounces off my chest. “Be ready at seven,” he growls before stomping away.
Mad Dog’s MMA is crawling with people. Cars are packed in the lot like sardines in a can. Jace slides in along the back alley and tells me to get out. Armed in nothing but an infinitesimalbikini under a sundress, I follow close behind him through a back entrance where the coach waits.
Sweat collects between my cleavage. “What’s going on?”
But Jace ignores my question and chucks a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s gonna count rounds tonight.”
I raise my brows, hoping for further clarification, but Jace ducks into another room, leaving my unanswered question hanging in limbo.
The coach points toward a curtained doorway. “Head in through there and ask for Jimbo,” he says before I’m alone.
Unfortunately, that brings up more questions than answers. A part of me wants to escape through the back door and forget this whole thing, but I made this bet, and I don’t welsh. As much as I hate taking a knee to Jace Wilder, I’ll be damned if I'm going to give him any kind of upper hand.
I pad through the red velvet curtain into a zoo. You’d never know this was the same empty gym from the other night. Bright lights beam in my face. I raise my hand to shield the glare, my gaze roving over the crowd of people gathered around the highlighted ring.
Rock music floats over the din of chatter. My heart pounds to the beat as I tell the first guy I see, “I’m looking for Jimbo?”
Without words, he points at another man sitting at a table in front of a microphone. I round the ring and catch his eye. “I’m supposed to talk to you about counting rounds?”
He leans back in his chair, looking me up and down. “Who hired you?”
Feeling exposed, I shield my chest with my arms. “ I’m doing Jace Wilder a favor.”
That gets a reaction I did not expect.
His expression glows as he jumps to his feet. “Aah. You’re different from our usual ring girls.” He steps to the edge of thetable, where a pile of signs leans for support. “Here you go,” he says.
