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“Trouble.”
Chapter Five
Ames
Friday nights were meant to be spent out.
Nina had texted me a pic of our crew in their normal spot, and a pang of longing shot through me. I missed them, and I missed my old life. However, an undercurrent of electricity buzzed under my skin at the idea of plunging into any bar in my area on a whim. Even though Sam had turned me down, the rest of our training sessions this week had been just as charged as the first two, which had me convinced there was more to her shutdown than disinterest.
Still, none of that helped my reawakened libido, and with my single-as-fuck status, it was time to step out and be social.
I slid my hands into my pockets, checking for my keys and wallet, and left my apartment. The dim overhead light flickered, casting its amber hues through the stairwell as I thundered down the steps. Nowadays, I spent so much time in workout gear I sometimes forgot how to dress like a regular human being. Nina used to force me into fashionable attire, but I was on my own now, so I’d popped on a bright pink crop top and my ripped jeans along with a pair of comfortable shitkickers.
I wandered toward Knockout on autopilot. I’d been heading there all week, and I had the feeling the trend would continue. It had taken me a while to get comfortable at my old gym, but I already fit right in at Knockout. Although I didn’t know if it was starting as an established fighter rather than brand new or the general vibe of the place. I’d exchanged contact info with a few of the folks who seemed cool, and I couldn’t wait to make some new friends.
Tonight, though, I’d be going out by my lonesome.
Probably for the best, since I hoped I wouldn’t be returning to my apartment alone.
The brick façade of the nearest building took up most of the block. At the end, the sign for Lucky Penny Tavern was all backlit. This looked like one of the newer establishments that had sprung up in a lot of the places that had been abandoned in this area. People loitered outside near the entrance, and when the door opened, the thrum of chatter escaped.
I grabbed the handle and stepped inside.
Wide arched windows across the front offered a great view of the street, and wooden tables were stationed around massive concrete pillars through the middle. The exposed brick walls and industrial framework gave the bar an artsy vibe, especially with the copper and brass metalwork decorating the walls.
At the far left, patrons perched on black barstools at the bar, its long, thick wooden surface gleaming. Some upbeat punk music pumped through the speakers, which fit the vibe of this place, and the dangling Edison bulbs cast dim lights throughout.
No way would I sit at a table by myself tonight. I walked toward the nearest empty barstool but came to a halt. A woman to the right hunched forward, ball cap obscuring her features. She was wearing a Flyers shirt, and her jeans clung to her muscular ass. However, her guarded stance, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, and the smooth, even shade of her exposed skin had my mind whirring.
I rerouted and headed to the unclaimed seat beside her.
When I plunked onto the barstool, a whiff of clove drifted toward me, and my core sparked to life. Bingo. A cursory scan told me I’d been right.
Looked like Sam and I were going to have a drink together after all.
She kept her face down at her phone as she scrolled through it. The bartender, a big, broad guy, gave me an up-nod.
“Whatever dark beer you’ve got on tap,” I ordered.
“Coming right up,” he said, grabbing a pint glass.
The feel of Sam’s eyes on me was like a drug, and I reveled in the prickle of awareness across my skin.
I lifted my hands. “Before you go jumping to conclusions, this was just a happy coincidence. I live up the street from here and was looking for somewhere to grab a drink.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s not a great neighborhood.”
I settled onto the barstool. She hadn’t immediately gotten up and stormed out, so I’d take whatever win I could get. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I needed affordable and fast. Besides, it’s close to the gym.”
“Why fast?” she asked and took a sip from her drink.
“Rum and Coke?” I pointed to the dark liquid.
“Just a Coke,” she said, lifting her glass in salute. “Not much of a drinker.”
“Or a talker, it seems.” Who knew when I’d get this chance outside of work again. Sam seemed determined to keep our relationship as professional as possible. If she didn’t want to fuck me, fine. I could sulk about that on my own time, but the need to learn what had happened, why she’d disappeared, burned stronger within me every day.
“I planned on sitting here and nursing my Coke in silence.” Sam lifted a brow.
