Page 83 of Crazy In Love
“I’m not saying you lack brains! I’m just saying that’s not even a proper job.”
“By the end of our conversation, he asked if you were seeing anybody.”
“He asked that?” Furious, Chris swings his gaze back to Alana. “He specifically asked?”
“He did.” She sets her fork down and pats Hazel’s bottom. “He’s a gentleman, so he never would have stepped on toes if you were already seeing someone else, and he understands your vulnerability, considering the work he’s doing at the apartment. He would never want to express interest, receive a rejection, and then have you feel uncomfortable while he’s finishing out the job.”
“He sounds exceptionally thoughtful.” I roll my lip between my teeth and meet Tommy’s dancing eyes. “That’s rare these days.”
“So, if you’re interested, too,” Alana continues, “I can let him know. Once he has the green light, he can ask you out for real and not worry about offending you.”
“Geez, Fox.” Slowly, violently, Chris brings his eyes around and stares at the side of my face. “Sounds like it’s all worked out. Will you say yes?”
“I think you should say yes.” Tommy sits back with a smug grin, folding his arms and scratching his chin like he thinks that’ll hide the tremble of his jaw.
“You think so, huh?” Chris glares at his brother, anger wafting off the man like waves lapping at the beach. “You think it’s a good idea to set one of your fighters up with Alana’s best friend?”
“Why not? She’s a free agent, ain’t she?” He brings his gaze to me. “And Cliff travels a lot. So you could probably meet up in New York pretty regularly if you decide you like each other enough.”
“It’s decided, then.” Alana detaches Hazel from her boob without flashing even a speck of nipple, and bringing her up, she lays the baby on her chest and elicits a full-bellied echoing belch. “I’ll tell him next time I see him.”
ROUND TWENTY-TWO
CHRIS
It takes another seven days before Cliff returns to the gym. Seven whole fucking days, like he knew he had a target on his back and a day of reckoning, just waiting for him.
But he doesn’t know.
He can’t know.
Because Fox decided the things we do behind closed doors willstaybehind closed doors.
“The fuck, Coach?” Cliff stumbles back a half-dozen steps, dazed and spitting blood onto the canvas by my feet. “You on the juice this week, or what?”
“Keep it clean,” Tommy grumbles from outside the boxing ring. He stares at the side of my face, waiting for me to look. But dammit, I won’t. I refuse. “Keep it legal.”
“What’d I do wrong?”
Rage makes me a sloppy fighter. The fear of losing access to Fox makes me a shitty grappler. Yet, I charge forward anyway, arms wide and fury my constant companion, only for him to skid out of my way, so I slam against the ropes.
“Coach! The fuck?”
“He’s just working through some stuff,” Tommy teases. “You either fight, or you step off the canvas. Because he’s not all that reasonable right now.”
“Shut the fuck up!” I turn and bounce on the balls of my feet, draggingmy hands up to protect my face. And because Cliff is a pussycat, I stalk forward and force him to engage. “Tommy’s not coaching at this point. He’s spectating. Focus on me, Cliff.”
“I am focusin’ on you!” He skips left, running from my advance. “But I’m not entirely sure why it feels like I disrespected your momma or something. One:youdon’t even like your mom! And two: I didn’t say shit about her.”
“It’s about Fox Tatum,” Tommy sighs.
Her name on his tongue is like fire in my veins. Like an elastic band snapping. I swing my gaze across to him and snarl.
“What?” He throws his hand up. “You’re not gonna say it, so I will.”
“Fox?” Cliff is a wily fucker; he uses my distraction and lands a left jab against my jaw that has stars bursting in the corners of my vision. “I told her I was heading out of town for a few days. She said it was cool if I finished the bathroom once I got back.”
Tommy snickers. “This ain’t about the bathroom, dude. This is about so much more.”
