[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
unfair.
* * * *
You smell real pretty.
Clay jammed his elbow back into the center of Wyatt s chest, deliberately using extra strength to
prove his point. Get the fuck off me.
Wyatt wheezed and laughed as he rolled off Clay to lay sprawled out on the mat next to him. Big,
broad, and powerfully built, Wyatt s bare chest glistened with sweat as he clutched at it and fought to
find his breath. For getting laid last night& you re sure ornery today.
Clay rolled onto his back and lied. I didn t get laid last night.
Right. Wyatt snorted. You never came home, and you show up today smelling like flowers
and strawberries.
It s cucumber melon, Clay corrected, feeling his cheeks heat. It s unisex.
Wyatt howled, his hand still splayed over his muscular chest as he rolled on his side and laughed
at Clay s expense.
Ya keep snickering and I m gonna forget Tony put a stop to cage sparring with you, Clay
warned him with a dark scowl. You wanna spend the day in Mercy General, Sheriff?
Bring it on, Wyatt said, his smile still wide and teasing. I can take you, Powerhouse. I got
money riding on this fight. I was throwing the cage fights to keep your confidence up and your brain
working regular.
I thought betting in Garnet was illegal.
Good thing I got a sheriff in my pocket.
Are you really betting on the fight? Clay asked because Wyatt said it often enough he was
starting to believe it.
Wyatt gave him a stony-eyed stare, his smile gone. Maybe.
That s the same look you use in poker.
Wyatt frowned. So?
You re terrible at poker, Clay reminded him. Why d you always say you re betting on the
fights when you and me both know you ain t doing any such thing.
Wyatt rolled onto his back and then sprang to his feet, showing off amazing agility and martial
arts skill. He ran his fingers through his hair and avoided Clay s eyes as he said, It s better than
saying I m worried and I don t want you to get too hurt, ain t it?
Clay considered the confession as he looked up at Wyatt, whose face showed deep concern.
Finally he nodded in agreement. Yeah, that s definitely better. Go back to that; it was working.
Wyatt laughed, his smile bright once more. Then you better get your ass up and get back to
training, cause I ain t losing a bunch of money just cause you re lazy.
Clay rolled back and then sprang to his feet the same as Wyatt had. Hours of this and he was
starting to get tired of the abuse. He didn t want to spar with Wyatt. He wanted to see Melody.
He glanced at his watch and raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. You wanna take a shower and
then go grab lunch?
No, I don t, Wyatt said in disbelief. I had to hire an extra deputy and take a pay cut to be your
training partner. Not to mention the night shift I m on. So guess what, Clay Powerhouse Powers,
that s what we re doing. We re gonna train, and you re gonna be fucking happy bout it.
I pay you to be my training partner. You make twice as much off me as you lost in the pay cut.
Yeah, but I d be doing it even if you weren t paying me, Wyatt said, giving Clay a look of
insult. Now stop thinking about your piece of pie and get your head in the cage before you come back
to that pretty waitress in a body bag.
Clay glared, feeling irritated that Wyatt was right. Rather than complain, Clay jumped at him. He
threw his shoulder into Wyatt s chest and knocked him off his feet. The two of them started grappling.
Fists and kicks were reserved for the equipment after the last cage match that ended with stitches, so
all he could do was pin Wyatt enough times to work off the frustration.
* * * *
Muscles aching, freshly showered, Clay was starving and ready for lunch. He put his UFC hat on
and walked out of the locker room ahead of Wyatt, who always took longer. Wyatt was going into
work after lunch and needed to be in uniform. Plus the asshole was vain as could be. He always
fussed with his hair, and the bastard had the nerve to give Clay shit about some cucumber-scented
body wash?
Clay.
He turned around, the smile dying on his lips when he looked at Melody. She was put together
for work, with her usual blue and white uniform. Her hair was back up, her glasses on, but her face
was flushed, her eyes puffy and red. It was obvious she d been crying.
Clay rushed to her and instinctively grabbed her waist. He pulled her close, studying her face in
concern. What happened?
Melody buried her face against his chest rather than look at him. One hand reached up to run over
his pectoral muscles, her open palm stopping to rest over the place where his heart was beating
wildly out of control.
Tell me, he pressed, his hand sliding up to rub her back.
She lifted her head, her eyes swimming pools of green beneath her glasses. Her face scrunched
up, and she bit her bottom lip against a sob. Clay wanted to push, but he let her take a shuddering
breath and waited patiently until Melody finally tilted her head and whispered, I m sorry.
You don t have to be sorry.
She nodded, tears streaming down her face. Yes, I do.
What is it?
We can t She squeaked. Her hand covered her mouth, and her eyes closed tight against the
pain that was so palpable Clay could taste it in the air around them. W-we can t be together
anymore.
Clay gaped, his heart plummeting into his stomach. What?
I told you I was broken, she whispered as she lowered her head and wiped at her cheeks.
You should ve listened.
You re not broken, Mel. He rubbed her back again, hoping to God this was just cold feet. He
studied her face streaming with tears, red and blotchy; she was still beautiful to him. I think you re
amazing.
Oh no no no. She shook her head frantically, another sob bursting out of her. Don t do that.
Please don t do that.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]