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“A guy in there said you could win this thing?” he questions.

“Do you think I would be risking it all if I didn’t think I could win?”

“Who fucking knows,” he snaps. “It’s not like you’ve allowed anyone to get to know you.”

Yeah, I deserved that. “And now you know why,” I say, holding his stare as I narrow my gaze on the big fucker. “How did you know I was here?”

He grins at the question and looks guilty as shit. “Dude, you’re the shadiest motherfucker around. I was curious.”

The meaning hits me like a fucking fist to the gut. “You followed me from Micky’s?”

“Eh,” he shrugs, unapologetically. “You keep disappearing, saying you have things to do, but seriously, what kind of normal person has shit to do in the middle of the night? Then you show up to training covered in bruises, pretending like we couldn’t fucking see them. You didn’t leave me any choice, man. It was like you were daring me to figure it out.”

I let out a sigh. I guess he’s right, which means it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the guys work it out. “You’ll keep it to yourself?”

“Yeah, man,” he says. “But honestly, the guys know something’s up with you. You’re like a puzzle they haven’t been able to work out, and they’re curious. It won’t be long before they’re following your stupid ass here too.”

“I know,” I say with a heavy sigh. “I feel like a dick not being honest about it, but if I were, I’d be off the team.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he says with a forgiving smile. “Come on. While we’re here, we may as well enjoy the night.”

“Fine,” I groan as he convinces me to head back inside. “But then I’m going home to my girl.”

“The fuck?” he grunts. “You’ve got a girl? How did I not know this? Fuck, I bet it’s that chick from the bar, isn’t it? Man, she’s fucking hot,” he says, hardly giving himself a chance to breathe. “Shit, I feel like I hardly know you at all.”

I can’t help but grin. Tonight is going to be interesting.

Chapter 15

CHARLI

Dropping my ass into the chair in the salon’s break room, I give myself just a minute to annihilate my lunch when I hear the familiar buzz of my phone deep in my bag. I groan, flying back off the chair to grab my bag, and scouring through it until my fingers close around the cool metal.

Seeing Micky’s name across the screen, my brows furrow. He rarely calls me, and if he does, it’s something important. “Hey,” I rush out. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Have I got you at a good time?” Micky questions, getting straight to business. “I couldn’t remember what time you said you went for your break.”

“Yeah, all good. I’m having lunch now.”

“Good, listen,” he says, a strange hesitation in his tone. “The bar’s shut down until further notice.”

“What?” I screech in outrage as I try to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. “Who would do that?”

“The building inspector,” he mutters, sounding as though he’s about ready to rip out throats. “There’s a problem with the drain in the kitchen. The whole place is flooded, which means the bar is closed until it’s fixed.”

“Shit, Micky,” I sigh. “That sucks.”

“Sure does, kid,” he says. “But unfortunately, that means you no longer have access to your apartment.”

“Oh,” I breathe, not having expected that, though it makes sense. I should have put that together.

“Can you stay with Xander for a few days?” he asks. “If not, you can crash on my couch. It’s nothing special, but it’ll do.”

“Thanks, but it’s fine,” I say, not put off by the idea at all. “Xander gave me a key.”

“Well, shit,” he says before a loud belly laugh rumbles through the phone. “Getting serious, huh?”

I roll my eyes, a stupid, dopey grin spreading across my face. “Shut up.”

Micky just keeps laughing. One of his newfound loves in life is teasing me until I want to throttle him. “Alright,” he says, and I can just picture the way he would roll his eyes and smirk. “I’ll let you know once we’ve got the all-clear.”

“Sure thing.”

“Be safe, Charli,” he says, easily slipping back into that father role that comes so naturally to him. Then he ends the call.

Dropping back into my seat, I continue with my lunch when one of the other stylists walks in. Zara gives me a smile, but it shifts as she takes me in. “Everything okay?” she asks, concern lacing her tone, making me realize my worry for the bar must be plastered across my face.

“Oh, yeah,” I say, trying to school my features. “The bar is going to be closed for a few days, so I’ll be staying with Xander for a while.”

“Well, that hardly sounds like a problem,” she grins.

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