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Fighting for Flight (Fighting #1) Page 18
Author: J.B. Salsbury

“I’m sure he’s not married. Hasn’t he gone into your restaurant on the nights you’re working? Surely he wouldn’t show up at the restaurant his girlfriend manages if he wanted to keep the relationship a secret.”

Her eyes drop to the floor. “He only came in the one time. Now we just hang out at my house.”

That doesn’t sound good.

“I wouldn’t think the worst yet. Give him some time. If things don’t get better in the next few weeks, break it off.”

She nods and takes a shaky breath. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” She manages a sad smile. “You want to try any of this on? Might as well since we’re in here.”

I study the pile of lace and satin at my feet. Maybe one of those will be the pair to finally break Jonah’s iron restraint. “I’ll just get them all.”

Jonah

I’m pulling swordfish out of the fridge to throw on the grill for dinner. Raven says she can’t eat anything that isn’t microwavable at her place. Since she’s been staying with me, I cook almost every night. With my strict training diet, eating out is next to impossible.

Raven’s recent text said she was on her way, and I want to get dinner going so she can eat when she gets here. I shake my head, contemplating what in the hell has gotten into me. I told myself I’d had enough of taking care of people when I moved out of my mom’s house. Nothing will shove you into a lifestyle of partying and irresponsibility like becoming a man at twelve. When I moved out at eighteen and came to Vegas, I was like a big kid in an adult candy store.

The sound of my phone bumps me from my thoughts. I check the caller ID.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, Joey, how are you?”

Rolling my eyes at her nickname for me, I wonder why she didn’t just name me Joey. “I’m really good. How about you?”

“I’m great. Just got back from spending time with Beth and the boys. They’re getting so big.”

I rub my forehead, reminding myself to call my little sister Beth. She lives in Phoenix with her husband Rick and twin boys. Things have been so hectic I haven’t stayed in touch.

“Yeah, I need to make a trip out for a visit. I’ll do that after the fight.”

“Oh, that would be great. She’d love to see you. What have you been up to lately?”

“Just training, getting ready for the fight. I’ve been working on the Impala I bought last year. I found a great mechanic who’s been coming over every day helping me take it apart, clean it up.”

I feel guilty keeping Raven a secret from my mom. She’s not some dirty indulgence or a passing good time. Even though I’ve never talked to my mom about the recreational girls in my past, with Raven, things are different.

“Mom, I want to tell you I met someone. It’s the mechanic who’s helping me with my car. Things are getting serious between us, and I thought you should know.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

I check to make sure our call didn’t get dropped. Nope, still connected.

“Mom, you still there?”

She clears her throat. “Yes, Joey, I’m here.”

Why is she acting so weird? I know I’ve never had a serious girlfriend before, but I thought she would be off the wall about my finally settling down.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited about my being in a serious relationship.”

“Oh, honey, I’m very happy for you. It’s just . . . I guess I thought . . . Well, it’s just a shock, that’s all. I always thought you liked girls.”

My eyes bug out of my head and I choke. I cough to clear my voice. “What? Of course, I like girls. Wait, Mom, Raven is a girl! Shit, you thought I was telling you I was dating a guy? Fuck me.”

“First of all, Joey, you watch your mouth. Second, what was I supposed to think? You told me you were dating your mechanic!”

I laugh so hard that it brings tears to my eyes.

“No. Raven is very much female.” My laughter calms. “You’ll meet her when you come out for the fight. She’s been staying with me, so I guess that will give you guys a chance to get to know each other.”

“Oh, honey, that would be wonderful. I can’t wait.”

“Shit, Ma! You thought I was gay! Fuckin’ hell.”

“Jonah Ryan Slade, you watch that mouth!”

After giving her the details I’ve arranged for her flight, I finish up with my mom and go back to preparing dinner. While pulling out some vegetables to grill, I hear the front door open.

“Baby! I’m in here,” I yell from the kitchen.

The soft beat of her Converse against the tile floor has me smiling. Her chest presses into my back as her arms wrap around my waist.

“Hey,” she says softly into my back, and bringing on an even bigger smile.

I turn around and wrap my arms around her, placing a wet kiss against my spot over the tattoo on her neck. The pear scent of her hair, combined with the sweet taste of her skin, is a heady mixture. I trail kisses along her jaw then pull at her lips with mine. After a little coaxing, she tilts her head, always eager, but making me work for it. Perfect. My tongue explores, gliding against the roof of her mouth and her teeth. Sucking on her lips, I slowly pull back. We lock eyes, panting and hungry, giving our blood a chance to cool.

She looks past my arm at the fish. “Mmm, is that swordfish?” Her voice carries a different kind of hunger.

“Yeah, you ready to eat?”

“Mm-hmm.”

I grab an iced tea for her, and we head out to light the grill. We settle ourselves at the bar. It’s getting warmer, but the outdoor misting system and ceiling fans make the temperature perfect for eating outside.

“How was shopping?” I grab myself a Muscle Milk from the outdoor cooler.

“Good. How was your day?”

I pop the top off my drink, take a swing, and lean a hip on the bar. “Infinitely better if those bags I heard you drop at the door are pink.”

“How did you know?” She sips her tea that I’ve sweetened and added lemon to, just like she likes it. “Mmm.” She takes another sip.

“Babe, if you keep this up, you’re going to have to take on a sponsor. And I’d like to be the first to volunteer.”

“I only buy the stuff that’s on sale.” She sets down her drink and traces patterns into the condensation on the glass. “I know I don’t make much now, but I will. I have a plan.”

Why am I not surprised? I take a few steps to the barstool next to her and drop down. “What’s your plan?”

She shrugs and drops her eyes to her lap. Her delicate hands knot together, something I notice she does before she opens up about something personal, so I wait patiently.

“Guy said when he retires he’s handing ownership of the shop to me. He has no children of his own, and he knows I love the garage.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” I lean back and prop my feet on the bar.

She fixes me with a glare, but the shadow of a smile plays on her lips. “Wow? Is it that hard to believe?”

“Not a lot of women dream of owning their own auto body shop.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” her shoulders slump and she picks at her nails, “I’m not like most women.”

“No, baby, you certainly are not.”

She peers up at me from beneath her eyelashes. “It would be nice to own a business, make my own hours. If I’m ever lucky enough to get married and have kids, it’ll make things easier.” Her cheeks turn pink and she hides behind her tea.

My mind conjures up images of Raven, her belly swollen with a baby. And like the flicker of an old home movie, pictures flash of her cradling a dark-haired infant. Scattered visions of dark pigtails, training wheels, and ballet recitals manifest behind my eyes.

“Holy shit.” I grind my fists into my eye sockets, rubbing out the fantasy. That has never happened to me before. Never.

“You okay?”

I shake it off, pull it together, and attempt to hide the full-fledged freak out that’s bubbling to the surface.

“Yeah, fine. Just a-a weird headache or s-something.” I’m f**king stuttering!

Time for evasive maneuvers. I breathe deep, and fix my eyes on hers. The concern in her face dissolves into an easy smile. I smile back, making sure it’s bright enough to expose both dimples. It’s a desperate move, but it works. She licks her full lips, slowly rubbing them together in anticipation of what’s coming. As I’m leaning in, happy to give her what she wants, the muffled sound of her phone fills the air.

“Whoops, sorry.” She grabs her phone from her pocket. Glancing down at the caller ID, her eyebrows scrunch and mouth goes tight.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t recognize the number.”

“Answer it, baby.”

She nods and hits the answer button before pressing the phone to her ear.

“Hello.” Her pleasant smile quickly fades. Her body shoots ramrod straight, and the color drains from her face.

Twelve

Jonah

What the hell? Blood pumps in my ears, and a mild buzz starts at the base of my neck.

“I’m fine.” She’s being polite to the mystery caller, but her voice is completely void of its usual spunk.

Alarms fire in my head.

Her eyes snap up to mine and widen a fraction. “Meet with you tomorrow?”

I’m up from my barstool and standing at her side. Less than a foot away, I’m able to make out the voice coming through her phone. I can’t hear exact words, but the low mumbles are undoubtedly male. Fuck.

“Um . . . I don’t know. I mean, why now?” She looks at her lap and rubs her forehead with her free hand.

The man on the phone mumbles on, and she worries her bottom lip. Her eyes hit mine, and a tiny spark of my Raven is back. “Okay, see you then.”

She hangs up the phone and stares at it in her hand as if she doesn’t know how it got there. Then she looks up at me.

“Who was that?” My voice is calm, but not in a way that provides comfort.

She places the phone on the bar like it’s made of glass. “That was Dominick.”

Adrenaline rocks my body. My muscles tense. The buzz in my head intensifies with every hammer of my heart.

“He wants to meet with me tomorrow at ten a.m.”

“No f**king way.”

She pins me with a glare. “Why not?”

How can she ask me that? I told her she needed to stay away from that guy.

“Because I said so.” I annunciate every word slowly to avoid roaring in her face, but she still flinches.

“I told him I’d go. I’m going.” She says it with such conviction I can’t decide if I want to shake her or kiss her.

“Fine. I’m going with you.” This woman is infuriating. Why can’t she just do what I say? I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, trying to numb the all-consuming buzz that makes me want to rip Dominick Morretti apart.

“No, he said I have to come alone.”

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J.B. Salsbury's Novels
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