Page 13 of Falling for the Forbidden Fighter
“Why?”
Louis knocks his knuckles against the counter. “What else am I going to do? Fighting is the only thing I’m good at.”
I don’t respond.
In a way I can’t express, that’s sad too.
Louis sits his cup down as if to end the conversation. “Can I take a shower? Sorry, it’s just that the motel’s water pressure was nonexistent.”
“Mi casa es su casa,” I say. “Clean towels in the hallway closet. And there are showers at the gym if you want to clean up there after training.”
“Thanks… for everything.”
He darts off before I can say anything.
If he’s surfed couches for a while, I guess he’s used to this.
Before I leave, I head into my room to grab my work bag. The bathroom door is cracked. I can hear the shower running, see the steam pouring out.
From here, I spot Louis’s foggy reflection in the mirror as he steps into the shower. I drink him in, wishing I could wipe that mirror clean to take a better look.
He shuts the curtain.
For a moment, I consider canceling on my patients so I can hang out with him. No, that’s a stupid thought…
I leave feeling frustrated, not really understanding why.
CHAPTER 4
LOUIS
The apartment is quiet and cool when I get out of the shower. I used her shampoo and conditioner, so I smell her even though she’s not here.
On the counter, I find a key sitting on a little note.Be back around six. Rest. Eat. Hydrate. You’ll need it.
Even her handwriting is gorgeous.
I smell the note before tucking it safely into my bag. With nothing to unpack, I throw on some shorts and a tank top, take stock of her fridge, and look up the closest grocery store on my phone.
Ten-minute walk. In this heat, it’ll suck.
She’s worth it.
Another sweat worked up, another shower. I take a nap on the couch and get the best sleep I’ve had in years, then I find her vacuum and cleaning supplies. For the next hour, I clean the already tidy apartment.
It’s beyond feeling like I owe her—I definitely do.
If I’m staying here, I want to make her life easy. She’s not charging me rent, but I’d do this even if she were. I want to show her that I’m ready to worship her any way I can…
By the time the front door opens, the house is fragrant with onions, garlic, and peppers.
I hear her before I see her, “Uhhh. Are you cooking?”
She comes around the corner, a confused smile on her face.
“I said you could help with groceries,” she laughs. “Not that you had to be my personal chef.”
I shrug, browning ribeye in the pan. “You like cheesesteaks?”
