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“Sounds like you’ve hit the jackpot.”
She nods and sips her drink. “Uh-huh,” she says. “Most of the girls are really nice. Maybe even nice enough to make some proper friends.”
I give her a pointed look. “Are you sure you’re really the best judge of character? After that last chick you hung out with, I’m wondering if maybe I should be finding you some friends instead. I could set you up with a few girls. Some of the guys’ girlfriends are pretty cool.”
Charli rolls her eyes. “I think I can manage to make my own friends,” she tells me. “But what about you? Win any illegal fights lately?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, actually, last night. I killed it. I was against this big Scottish guy and people were still wondering if I just got lucky last week, but then I smashed him. So bets will rise again for the next one.”
Her brows crease in concern, and she begins to worry her bottom lip. “That’s great,” she says, sounding distant and unsure.
I hold her stare, not liking the way she’s starting to shut down on me. “What’s wrong?” I ask, itching to reach over and take her hand.
Charli cringes before finally speaking up. “When you say you smashed him, what does that mean exactly? You didn’t really hurt him, did you?”
I let out a breath, relief pounding through my veins. “No,” I tell her honestly, watching the visible relief in her eyes and the way she seems to breathe just a little easier. “The guy is fine, just a little knocked around. The Underground is a dirty competition, but I fight clean. Besides, if I’m gonna go pro one day, I can’t have any of this shit coming back to bite me in the ass.”
“Apart from the whole illegal underground fighting thing,” she grins, her eyes sparkling with a wicked playfulness.
All I can do is grin right back at her. She’s so fucking sassy. I love uncovering these little traits of hers. First, it was the innocence, then the shyness, then the blushing—which drives me wild—and then her inability to filter her mouth. But now I’m finding out that she’s a sarcastic smart-ass, and that’s just the cherry on top.
I haven’t figured out why yet, but this woman pulls me in for some reason, and it’s not just because of her killer body or stunning good looks. This woman has something more, something that I’ve never found in anyone else.
Charli watches me a moment as I do the same to her, both of us clearly trying to figure each other out. “What’s your story, Charli?” I ask softly, so she doesn’t think I’m prying and understands that I truly want to know her.
She considers me for a moment before her eyes drop to her glass and she begins drawing patterns in the condensation on the side. She lets out a heavy breath. “My dad died when I was twelve, leaving me with a stepmom and a massive debt,” she says, not holding back as she goes in with the hard stuff. “She wasn’t very nice, but she tolerated me. Well, she did until a few years later when she started drinking and I suddenly became a burden.”
The need to creep my hand along the bar and take hold of hers fires through me, but I hold it back, not sure if she’s ready for that. Instead, I wait for her to continue. “She became abusive, always telling me that I was nothing and complaining about how she was stuck with me. So, the moment I turned fourteen, she pulled me out of school. She decided that because the debt was my father’s, it made it my responsibility.”
Fuck it. My hand has a life of its own. It makes its way across the bar, and I place it right over hers, gently giving it a squeeze. An electric current shoots through my hand, right up my arm and into my chest, making me feel like my whole body has finally come alive. Who knew just touching her could have such an effect?
Charli’s hand flips over on the bar, and I lace my fingers through hers. Something feels so fucking right about this moment. She looks down at our joined hands, and I see something settle within her. Something that gives her the strength to keep going, and goddamn, it feels good.
“I was made to work her cleaning business while she stayed home each day drinking. It had gotten pretty bad by that stage, and because drinking is an expensive habit, she forced me into a second job, which is ridiculous for a fourteen-year-old girl. At first, I refused, and that was the first time she hit me.” Charli scoffs and glances away, as if ashamed of sharing this part of her life. “I guess she must have liked it because it became her new favorite thing after that.”
