Page 46 of One Last Promise

Stormi wrinkled her nose. “I’ll stick to pizza.”

He laughed. “Good to see you.” He gave her a hug as Rome sat and wagged his tail.

They continued down the street, and Tillie hated the tiny twinge inside at the way Stormi had looked at him with so much warmth in her gaze.

Of course she had. Because that’s what Moose did—he rescued people.

Which meant that really, Tillie wasn’t anyone special, was she? Aw, that wasn’t fair.

Her insecurities should probably just pipe down. Moose was here. With her. And that meantsomething.

They came to a park at the end of the street, where she saw an amphitheater and a boardwalk running along the edge of the river all the way to a lookout three blocks to the south.

Moose turned to her. “Tell me about how you managed to take down Rigger at the house. You have skills . . .”

That’s right. She’d offered. But that question she hadn’t expected. He could have asked about Rigger.Or the money. Even the question she was dreading about Rigger being Hazel’s father, although there wasn’t much to explain there.

But this . . . this was easy. “I mentioned being a marine, right?”

“They don’t teach that kind of hand-to-hand combat in the Marines. That’s an MMA move. Picked that up from Rigger.”

Right.

They’d reached the edge of the block, ventured out onto the boardwalk. Ten feet below, the river frothed over rocks near the shore. A mist rose in the air, fine and cool.

“I was training to be an MMA fighter when I got out.”

He stilled, turned to her. “What?”

She shrugged. “Let me back up to the fact that I didn’t really have any real skills. I enlisted when I was seventeen, joined full-time when I was eighteen, and did four years, and by that time, I was back Stateside, and they offered me another two years, so I re-enlisted and Pearl came to live with me.”

And shoot, now she had to start lying. But she’d tell most of it.

“Rigger kept coming around, and he’d changed a little, at least back then. He thought I had the skills to be an MMA fighter, so he started training me at a local gym when I was off-duty. I learned the sweep from him.”

Moose nodded, took another sip. Then, “Seriously, that’s the very last thing I expected to hear.”

“I know. I wasn’t me back then, not really.” Or rather, a part of herself that she didn’t want to remember.

“Did you ever fight?” His eyes held what looked like horror.

She shook her head. “I went into the ring once, but . . . no.”

He nodded again.

“But I did become an Iron Maiden.”

She liked the surprise that flitted over his face. “Really? That’s what—the all-female version of American Ninja Warrior, right?” And right then, his gaze moved over her body.

“I might have been in bettershape back then.”

“You’re in fine shape now.”

A beat. And her face might have been heating, and his eyes sort of widened—“I mean?—”

She laughed. “Being a waitress is it’s own form of workout.”

“It is,” he said, smiling.

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