Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Romance,
Contemporary,
Man-Woman Relationships,
Love Stories,
Fiction - Romance,
American Light Romantic Fiction,
Romance - Contemporary,
Romance: Modern,
Boxing trainers,
Women boxers,
Boxers (Sports)
going to be any different from the rest of the species she had no idea.
It’s because you’ve always been dumb about guys, a little voice whispered in her ear. It was true, too—her bad judgment where men were concerned was a matter of historical record.
“I made a mistake. I thought he was something he wasn’t,” Jamie said, turning away from the window. “Grandpa wanted Godfrey. I guess we’ll knock on his door next.”
Ray cocked his head to one side, studying her. “Maybe you ought to take this as a sign, quit before you ruin that gorgeous face of yours,” he said.
Jamie made an impatient noise. “I thought you said you were going to help me.”
“I did. I will. I just…I guess I don’t understand why you suddenly want to get in the ring,” he said.
Jamie stared at him, almost tempted to tell him about her promise, about her burning need to set things right for her grandfather, to wipe out the shame that had become her family’s heritage.
“It’s in my blood. What can I say?” Jamie said.
Ray didn’t look as though he believed her, but he also knew her well enough not to push.
“I’ll try Cooper again tonight when I call him,” he said.
“Don’t bother. I wouldn’t take him as a trainer now if he crawled on his belly. I want someone who believes in me, not some grudging, sexist asshole.”
“He’s a good guy. A smart guy,” Ray said.
She flicked an appraising look his way. “You’re going to go with him, aren’t you?”
“He’s got stuff I need to know. And Lenny’s getting past it,” Ray confirmed.
“Good luck. You’re going to need it,” she muttered.
Ray smiled and shook his head, used to her lip.
“I gotta get back to work,” she said. “Thanks for pitching me today. I owe you one.”
“Do I get to pick what the one is?” Ray asked.
She punched one of his bulging biceps as she brushed past him, keeping things light. Ray had never really gotten over the fling they’d had five years ago. She would have driven him crazy if they’d stayed together, but he hadn’t quite admitted that to himself yet. She’d done him the biggest favor of his life when she’d walked out on him. She didn’t do commitment. She certainly didn’t do love, whatever the hell that was apart from a really great way for a person to let herself get screwed over.
“I’ll wax your car for you, but that’s about as close as you’re going to get to what you’re thinking,” she said as she headed toward the front door.
Behind her, Ray laughed. She felt the small moment of tension slide away, as she’d intended.
“Always with the mouth, Sawyer,” he said.
She swiveled on her heel. “Don’t call me that around anyone else, okay? As far as anyone knows, I’m Jamie Holloway, not Sawyer, and that’s it.”
Ray held up his hands. “Whoa, chill out, Jimmy. I’m not an idiot.”
She nodded. She’d overreacted, but as soon as anyone heard her last name, they’d know. And she wanted a chance to prove herself before the shit storm descended.
Kissing Ray goodbye, she agreed to hook up with him for a training session later in the week and made her way out to her beat-up sport Ford utility. She checked the passenger-side rear tire before she got in and saw that it was running flat again. Fortunately, there was a gas station around the corner where she could pump it back up, and she’d allocated funds from this week’s paycheck to cover a new tire. It was all staving off the inevitable day when the damned rust bucket fell apart, of course, but until that moment came, she’d eke every last mile out of the old girl if it killed her.
For just a second—a weak, self-pitying second—she allowed herself to wonder what it would have been like if she’d finished her naturopath training all those years ago, if her father were still alive and he hadn’t done what he’d done. How different would her world look? How different would she look?
“Pathetic, girl,” she told herself as
Joe Lamacchia, Bridget Samburg