Page 78 of A Fighter’s Love

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“As long as it’s not going to upset you.”

“No, I’ll be okay.” She had to be. This was what she’d signed up for with her two lovers. They were fighters. It’s what they did.

She pulled in a breath. It was time to leave them to it. The last thing she wanted was for Jackson to be concerned about her. He had more important things to do—like not get beaten to a pulp.

“I’m going to go see how Billy is coping on the door.”

Dale frowned. “Has he been okay with you?”

“Perfectly polite. I think he’s got the hint that I’m yours now.”

“Too damn right you are.” He swept his lips over hers and gave her ass a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you later then. Don’t leave this place without me.”

“I won’t.”

Jackson had stripped down to his boxers. For a moment she paused and admired his body.

Her hands itched to touch him but she couldn’t, not with Michael there. How would it look if she were seen to be with JacksonandDale?

But I am. At some point I’ll have to face that. Or will I keep it a secret, the way Stella does?

“Break a leg,” she said, winding her hands over themselves. “Can I say that for boxing?”

“It’ll do.” Jackson reached out and caught her hands, stilling her movements. A smile tugged at the right side of his mouth. “Thanks for all you’ve done to make tonight happen.”

She resisted the urge to say she wished it wasn’t happening, because that wasn’t what Jackson needed to hear. “So make it count.”

“I will. You fucking bet I will.”

“Time to go, Miss Jenny.” Michael shoved a pair of shiny purple shorts between them. “This boy’s gonna get naked and I’m sure you don’t wanna see that.”

Jackson raised his eyebrows and the smile tugging his lips grew into a grin. “She might.”

“And her boyfriend might give you a black eye before you’ve even stepped into the ring.”

“Hey, I’m going.” Jenny held up her hands and laughed. “You all get ready to kick Grinder’s butt.”

She quickly left the changing room.

As the sky darkened and the bar filled with a raucous, excited crowd, Jenny kept tabs on things, ensuring it all was going smoothly.

“Excuse me, are you Jenny Jones?”

“Yes.” Jenny smiled at the tall, elegant woman standing before her. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she wore a silky white blouse—open a button too far—and a short black skirt with strappy heels. Her eyes were emerald green and her lips scarlet. She was definitely a shining light of glamour in an otherwise male dominated room.

“Great. I’m Melanie Treadstone. We spoke on the phone.”

“Ah, yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Are you still doing the You Tube thing as well as commentary?” Jenny ran her hand over her hair, then smoothed her sweater, wondering if she should have glammed up for the event. Truth was, her head had been too full of worries to think about fashion.

“Yes.” She nodded at a guy to her right who held a small camera, the strap looped over his knuckles. “Film and commentary. We’re all set.”

“Great, Jackson and Grinder have both agreed to it. Did you get the contracts I emailed?”

“I did.”

Jenny nodded at the ring, which was beginning to get quite a crowd around it. Everyone wanted a good view of the action. “I’ve set up a small podium, between the ring and the wall. It’s roped off and elevated. Should give you the height your camera needs plus you won’t get jostled. There a mic there too.’”

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