One to Love (One to Hold 4)

“Maintenance. I’m actually headed to the men’s locker room right now.”

“Can I tag along?”

She was a hot chick, but my brain was consumed in a purple haze. “Only if you like cleaning urinals. Otherwise, better not.”

Her nose curled and she poked out the tip of her tongue. “Let me know if that situation changes.”

“Will do.” I tipped my chin and headed into the locker room.

I needed to get my head out of the clouds. Kenny was beautiful and kind and smart... and she sure as hell didn’t deserve to get mixed up with a loser like me.

* * *

My work was done in an hour, and all dreams of romance were flushed with the shit I scrubbed off the toilets. Forcing myself not to look for her, I put all the supplies back in the closet and pulled my keys to leave.

Rook’s sharp voice stopped me at the door. “Slayde! You said you’d bring me receipts. Where are they?”

Already pissed, his tone fanned the heat in my chest even me more, and I almost forgot he was my boss and blasted a string of profanity in his face. Instead, I grabbed the reins.

“Sorry,” I said, clearing my throat. “They’re back at my apartment. I’ll add everything up and give you the difference tomorrow.”

“You’ll give me the difference tonight, punk.” That snapped my head up. Boss or not, nobody talked to me that way. My fists balled involuntarily.

He took one look at my expression and laughed. “There it is. I knew you had a dick in there somewhere. I was wondering what it took for you to whip it out. You want to fight me, boy?”

The gleam in his eye was both amused and taunting, and I wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t enjoy kicking my ass. He had a good six inches and sixty pounds on me. I might’ve been a champ once, but he was out of my weight class by a mile.

“No, sir.” I looked down, and he pushed a hard breath through his lips.

“Quit that shit, I’m not your master. I’m your fucking boss, and I don’t expect any of my employees to kiss my ass.”

Out of nowhere, I felt a smile pulling at my lips. Lifting my eyes to his, I called his bluff. “What the fuck do you expect of your employees?”

“That’s it,” he laughed, clapping me hard on the shoulder. “So the little girls have been gossiping all day about you hitting the bags this morning. I thought you quit the fight?”

My mind paused to consider what he was saying. Which little girls? I swallowed the emotions warring in my chest and recited the monologue. “I don’t fight anymore. That’s in the past.”

“What the fuck is this tattoo about then? You a cock sucker?”

Fists clenched, I had to take a step back before I took a pop at this mountain of black steel in front of me. He only laughed louder.

“I like you Slayde Bennett. You want to kick my ass, don’t you?”

Swallowing the burn in my throat, I heard Doc’s voice telling me to identify the emotion, own it, put it away. “No.” I said, thinking I’d better get out of here now.

Rook caught my shoulder in his enormous hand. “That’s some goddamn kickass control you’ve got there.” He let me go with a little push. “You ever trained anybody?”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I focused on what he was saying to me instead of how I felt. “No.”

He stepped back into his office. “Come in here and close the door.”

I stepped inside, into the same place I’d been just a week before when I’d hoped to be lucky enough to score a job that didn’t require references. I was a fool coming to a gym. I was like an alcoholic applying to be a bartender.

Rook went around his desk and pulled a picture from the top drawer. He handed it to me, and I stared at it a moment, recognizing his face in a football uniform looking several years younger.

“You ever heard of The Rookie? Top draft pick of... well, the year’s not important.” He did a little chuckle, but it didn’t register. I’d never kept up with football. Boxing was my game.

“This you?” I cut my eyes from the photo to him.