Shadowboxer (Tapped Out 1)

I gritted my teeth. God, did I really need to deal with him right now too? “Would I be panicking if I had?”

“You might’ve forgotten—” He fell silent at my death glare and nodded. “Okay. Let me handle this.”

“Excuse me?”

Without responding, he shuffled me behind him like the little woman he obviously thought I was. He was too busy moving stealthily toward my door to pay me any mind so I thumped him on the shoulder without checking my strength.

That got his attention. “What the fuck, Mia?” he demanded in a low voice.

“It’s my apartment. I’m not some wussy woman who can’t deal with her own stuff.”

I used his moment of surprise to dart in front of him and try the knob. The door was unlocked. Panic bubbled in my stomach as I shoved it open, only to be tossed aside at the last second by my charging hero. We burst through the doorway like a comedy duo from a fifties movie, coming up short at the fearsome sight that awaited us.

A petite woman in a fuzzy bathrobe and green face mask stood next to the couch, a spatula covered in what looked like brownie batter halfway to her lips. She blinked her big blue eyes then let out a whoop and launched herself in my direction. “Ame!”

“Ame?” Fox muttered. “Who the hell’s Ame?”

But I didn’t have time to wo

rry about him right now. My sister was here.

Carly careened into me and nearly sent me sprawling to the floor. I clutched her waist and we dance-rocked back and forth, mumbling mostly incoherent babble. We hadn’t seen each other for a month, not since Christmas, and even then we’d only had a day together before I had to get back to the city for work. Tears sprang into my eyes and I sobbed into her neck, totally consumed with emotion.

Totally forgetting we had a witness.

“Shh,” Carly murmured into my hair.

It reminded me so much of what Fox had said earlier that I reared back and gazed at her with streaming eyes. Then I glanced at Fox, who was staring at me in stunned disbelief.

“Well, well. Who are we?” Carly pitched an eyebrow at me before she marched forward and stuck her hand out to Fox. He shook, limply.

I supposed I’d shocked him with my display. Served him right for making me come so much and trying to save my life.

“That’s Tray Knox,” I said when it became obvious he wasn’t going to answer. I rubbed the back of one hand under my nose and waved the other at him. “He’s just leaving.”

“Is he?” Carly’s eyebrow was going to get stuck near her hairline if she didn’t relax her features soon. “He doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry.”

“I’m not.” Finally recovering, he turned his typical Fox smile on Carly and dazzled her with about one-hundred-fifty watts of pure sex appeal.

I didn’t get wet again. Seriously, I didn’t.

“Now that you know who I am, you would be?” he asked Carly.

“I’m Ame’s sister. Carly.” Carly cocked her head and looked back and forth between Fox and me. After a full minute of checking us out, she grinned. “Holy shit, Ame has a boyfriend!” Before I could dispute that assertion—hotly—she poked a finger into Fox’s chest. “Dude, you really are real, right? I’m not dreaming this, am I?”

“I’m real.” His annoying grin never wavered. “Promise.”

What he didn’t say? That he was not my mothereffing boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I turned and marched to the galley kitchen on the opposite side of the living room. Opposite side in this case meant a couple hundred feet. I did not have a fancy ass place like Fox, but it suited me fine. It was great.

Everything was so fabulous I was practically aglow with joy.

“It’s almost four in the morning, Car,” I called as I turned on the faucet. “A little late for one of your bake-offs.”

“Late or early, depending,” Carly called back, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

Carly baked whenever she was stressed, a habit she’d started in childhood. Back then she’d had our mother to help her whip up her manic feasts. I didn’t know what she was worried about now, but I figured it had to be fairly big if she’d shown up without warning and let herself into my apartment. She’d never done that before. If something was wrong with our aunt, she would’ve told me right away, which meant it must be emotional crap I had absolutely no hope of being able to handle.