Page 33 of 4th Degree

Jax chuckles and adjusts his bag strap on his shoulder. “Sounds like a fun time.” He heads toward the front door, but then pauses and turns back. “Oh, and congratulations on being inducted into the UFC Hall of Fame, you sneaky bastard.”

My attention snaps to Dominic. “You what?”

Dominic, to no one’s surprise, looks uncomfortable as he shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

Jax barks out a laugh. “You are such a humble asshole.” He looks over at me. “It’s only one of the most prestigious awards in the MMA community. But this guy says it’s ‘nothing.’” He shakes his head in mock-disappointment. “I had to learn about it from Tristan.”

Dominic simply shrugs again.

Jax laughs and claps his friend on the shoulder. “Have a good night, Dom.”

“Night, Jax.”

And after he sends a final wave in my direction, I’m left alone with Dominic.

My gaze darts toward the man, my coach, as my grip tightens on the broom. His eyes don’t meet mine as he asks, “Jax set you up with everything?”

I nod. “Yup, I’m all good. I don’t know how long this usually takes, but I’ll try not to keep you here later than usual.”

“Take your time,” he says, looking toward his office. “I’ll be in here if you need anything.”

I feel more than hear Dominic disappear back into the office. I can’t tell if he’s trying to distance himself from me or if he just doesn’t want to awkwardly linger out here, but I start in on my job before I can think too much about it.

It doesn’t take me long to sweep up both rooms. Wiping the heavy bags down takes me a little bit, just because there are so many, but it’s only twenty minutes later that I’m returning to the utility closet beside the locker rooms to get stuff for the mats.

Grabbing the bucket, I carry it over to the kitchen sink in the welcome area at the front of the gym. I can’t stop myself from glancing at the couch where I spent two hours the other night watching fights that I can’t remember the results of.

I fill the bucket halfway, but then it gets too heavy to hold, so I put it on the floor and try to figure out if the faucet is detachable so I can fill it the rest of the way. It’s obvious that the head can come off, but I can’t get it to stretch into a hose. I tug on it a few times, but it feels like it might be stuck.

“Hey…Coach?” I call out, and I hear the sound of the door opening immediately. “Is there a secret to getting this faucet to work? I can’t get it to detach.”

I feel his warmth as he stops behind me. It takes everything in me to keep control of the shiver that wants to run through me from his overwhelming presence.

“Yeah, it gets stuck sometimes. Just twist it a little to the left before you pull.”

I half expect him to reach over me and do it himself—hell, I’m half-hoping for it—but he keeps a few feet between us as he moves over to the kitchenette. Swallowing my disappointment, I follow his directions.

Only, the second I twist the head of the faucet to the left, the water suddenly goes from running into the sink…

To squirting out of the break where I just twisted. Right in my face.

I let out a yelp and slap my hand down on the handle to turn off the stream. Beside me, I hear a rumble of laughter.

“Oh my God,” I splutter, blinking the water from my eyes. I snap my head to the side and aim an outraged stare in his direction. “You knew that would happen!”

Leaning his hip against the counter, he crosses his arms over his chest as his chuckles trail off. “I saw Tristan do it to Aiden the other day. Wanted to see if it was as satisfying of a prank as it looked.”

My eyes narrow, my glare intensifying as I feel water drip from my chin onto my tank top. “And what’s the verdict?”

He lifts a hand to his mouth to cover a clearly elated smile. “It’s as satisfying as it looked.”

I’m almost as surprised by the admission as I am that he played an actual prank. Seeing him do something I’d expect from my teenage brother is a shock in itself.

I have no response but to flick the water from my fingers into his face.

It earns me a bark of laughter in return.

Which is enough to make me turn the sink on again—leaving the faucet in its default position—and attempt to splash the stream of water at him.

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