Fighting for What's His (Warrior Fight Club 2)

Finding a gym was definitely on her to-do list. The

break room at work always had a tray of cookies or a box of donuts just sitting available, and it seemed like every editorial assistant had a jar of candy on their desk. Shayna had happily partaken on more than one occasion, but that situation could go on only so long if all she was doing was sitting around on her butt.

Billy cocked his head as he peered at her. “Yeah. Place is only a few years old. Big, clean, lots of equipment. Their specialty is MMA training, but there’s a regular gym part, too.”

MMA training sounded interesting…and like there’d be a nice view to watch while on the elliptical… “Any chance I could tag along to check it out?” she asked.

And immediately regretted it. Because Billy’s face went through an almost funny number of expressions, most of which she couldn’t read. Though, collectively, they seemed to say hell no.

“You know what, scratch that.”

Way to keep from doing something that might end in rejection, Shayna. Really. Super smooth. You’re such a twatermelon sometimes.

“I didn’t say anything.” He held up his hands like he was confused.

She gave a rueful chuckle. “You didn’t have to. And I get it. Really.”

He came closer. “No, Shay, really. I, uh, it’s just that I don’t go there just for regular work outs. I belong to a club that meets there.”

“What kind of club?”

Billy shrugged with one big shoulder. “A fight club.”

“A fight club?” she said, immediately picturing Edward Norton and Brad Pitt fighting in the dark basement of a sketchy bar. “I thought the first rule of fight club was that you didn’t talk about fight club?”

He gave her a look. “You’re picturing Edward Norton right now, aren’t you?”

She smirked. “And Brad Pitt.”

“Uh huh. Not that kind of fight club. It’s a, uh…” He twisted his lips, like he couldn’t figure out how to describe it. Or didn’t want to. And then the words rushed out. “It’s called Warrior Fight Club. Our first rule is that all the members are vets.”

That was…not what Shayna expected. “So it’s a club where veterans fight each other?” Wait ‘til Ryan got a load of that!

Billy unleashed a tired-sounding breath. “No. I mean, we do mixed-martial-arts training and sparring, but it’s not really about the fighting.”

Shayna opened her mouth, but no question came out. Because it really sounded like he’d just described fighting…

He braced his hands against the counter and nailed her with a stare. “It’s a place for veterans to get help transitioning to civilian life.”

Oh. Oh. Why did that sound like therapy? No way she was voicing that word, though, not with the almost challenging way Billy was looking at her. Gaze hard. Eyebrow arched. Jaw muscle ticking as if he was clenching his teeth. It was actually kinda freaking hot.

Screw kinda.

“That sounds awesome,” she said. Because it did. Anything that acknowledged and helped veterans after they’d sacrificed so much was good in her book. Billy stared at her for another long stretch. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said in that way people used when they actually had a lot they were thinking of saying.

“Okey dokey.” She took the long way around the island so that she didn’t have to squeeze between him and the counter. “Well, good night, Billy. I hope you can get some sleep. You look beat.”

She made for the steps without waiting for him to reply. At the bottom of the staircase, she gathered her shoes just like she’d promised, and then she headed up.

She’d made it three steps before he called her name. “Shay. Wait.”

The words came out of Billy’s mouth before he even thought to say them. As if keeping Shayna around had been pure instinct.

And maybe it had been, because despite staying away from her all week, just one night in her presence had him craving more of her. Her humor. Her sarcasm. Her easy acceptance.

Maybe it was because of how little sleep he’d had all week. Or because doing his job well had meant delivering to his client the terrible news of her husband’s infidelity. Or because his surveillance work had required a lot of hours of sitting in his car—and the constant press of his back against the seat had awakened the phantom pain of long-ago fried nerves that he sometimes felt something fierce. All of which had him feeling exhausted.