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Fighting to Forgive (Fighting #2) Page 26
Author: J.B. Salsbury

I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do about my attraction to this woman. Maybe I can’t get her out of my head because she’s not throwing herself at me. Could it be that simple, a silly case of cat and mouse? Snake and mouse. Yeah, that sounds more like it. And everyone knows who wins in that game.

“…but Layla will be there in my absence—”

“What?” Just the sound of her name from another man is enough to make me mental. I clear my throat and try to shrug off the fact that I wasn’t listening to a damn word Gibbs has said for the past who-knows-how-long.

“He’s talking about Flesh,” Rex answers from across the table. He’s slouched down in his chair with his elbows propped on the armrests, looking at me with an annoying-ass smile.

I glare at him and then turn my attention to Gibbs. “What about Layla and Flesh?”

“I’ll be out of town this weekend, and I need this publicity party to run smoothly. I’ve asked Layla to be there and make sure that happens.” He says it in such an everyday way, like he didn’t just verbally taser my adrenal glands.

“You can’t send Layla to Flesh.” My resolve is absolute. In the hundred different ways I play it out in my head, she doesn’t belong there.

“Blake, I’m happy to go. It’s not a big deal.” Her light voice carries a hint of uncertainty.

I lean toward her, resting my forearms on the table. “Do you even know what goes on at a place like Flesh?”

She blinks rapidly as if I caught her off guard, but doesn’t respond.

“It’s an adult pool. Topless. As in, the women don’t wear them.”

She recoils, but quickly recovers and leans in toward me. “You think I can’t handle a few nak*d boobs? Hate to state the obvious, Blake, but that’s something I see on a daily basis.”

The guys make no attempt to muffle their laughter. Bastards.

Jonah shrugs, fighting a smile. “She’s got a point, Blake.”

I glare him. “So bring Raven.”

His smile dies and his jaw gets tight. “Fuck no.”

Yeah, now who’s laughing?

Sitting back in my chair, fairly confident that I just made my point, I study Layla. She’s glaring at me, her mouth in a tight line as if she’s fighting to hold back what’s behind her teeth.

“Dude, you can’t compare sending a man’s wife to Flesh with sending a female UFL employee.” Caleb shakes his head. “Not the same.”

Holy shit, I compared Layla to Raven. What the f**k does that mean?

“Appreciate your concern for my assistant, but she’s got a job to do and that includes going to Flesh. Now, I have a teleconference in”—he checks his watch—“shit, three minutes.” He gathers his things and mumbles something to Layla. “Grab a schedule on your way out.” He scurries out of the room.

She drops a stack of papers in the middle of the table, and all the guys grab one except me. My eyes stay on her.

The thought of her at that pool surrounded by bare-breasted women, horny guys looking for action, mix that up with liberal amounts of alcohol. That’s an orgy waiting to happen. Layla’s f**king smokin’ hot and radiates an innocence that gives a**holes ideas. Yeah, this shit ain’t happening.

“You’re not going.” The words come flying from my mouth and still the movement in the room.

“Excuse me?” She stands, places her palms on the tabletop, and leans forward. I’d make a wise crack about the perfect cl**vage shot she’s giving me, but I’m too pissed.

I copy her confrontational stance, daring her to f**king try me. “You heard me.”

Her eyes flash with fury. “You don’t tell me what to do, Blake. This is my job.”

“Don’t give a shit. You’re not going.”

She slams one palm to the table. “Why are you fighting me on this?”

I don’t know. I can’t tell her the truth—that she and Axelle bring out a basic male instinct to protect. Even in my head, that sounds insane. This is why I stay away from women with kids. To keep my guardian complex locked up and avoid the feeling of betrayal when all my efforts aren’t returned. Just like with my mom the night she ratted me out. Dammit. I’m not doing this shit.

“Fine.” I drop my head back. “I give up. You’ll see for yourself.” Straightening from the table, my lips pull into a snarl. “But don’t come crying to me when you get mauled by a**holes looking for an easy lay.”

Her sharp gasp is the last thing I hear before I storm out of the room.

Charging down the hall and into the training center, I shove past people in my way. The locker room looms in the distance like a safe haven. I throw open the door and march toward the showers. It’s the safest place I can think of to pull myself together because there’s nothing to break.

Even fully clothed, I contemplate dousing my dumb ass with freezing cold water to take the edge off my agitation. What the f**k was that? One minute I’m all smiles and happy thoughts, and the next I’m aggressive as hell. I remember my dad pulling shit like this. Blowing his lid over something like a bad grade or an unmade bed.

The murderous beat of my blood pounds in my head. I lean my forehead against the cold tile and wonder if head butting the shower wall will alleviate some of the tension.

“I get it.”

My eyes swivel in the direction of Jonah’s voice. He’s leaning up against the wall, arms crossed at his chest.

I turn around, slide my back down the wall, and sit.

He has no clue. His dad was Ward freakin’ Cleaver until the day he died. “No. You don’t.” I hold my head in my hands.

“You’re into her.”

I exhale hard and bury my fists in my eye sockets. Into her? Fuck. Yeah.

“I’d lose my shit at the thought of Raven going to Flesh.” I hear Jonah step toward me. “But it’s Layla’s job, man. She’s got a kid to feed. Good news is, she won’t be there alone. We’ll all be there. Make sure no one f**ks with her.”

I nod into my hands, my heart rate slowing.

“But B, man, you owe that poor girl an apology. Had to be embarrassing, you nutting up on her like that in front of us.”

“Fuck, I know.” I want to ask him to knock me out. I’d do it myself if I could. “Something’s not right. I’m jumping out of my skin.”

He squats down to my eye level. “Dude, just admit it. You’re falling for a chick.”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Suit yourself. She’s hot, sweet as hell. You deny this, you’re missin’ out.”

Not at all enjoying his reference to my woman being hot, I scowl. “You think you’re telling me something I don’t know? I don’t want to be a dick to her. It just keeps happening. I’m f**ked up.”

He shrugs and shakes his head. “You’re holding back a monster by keeping in your feelings. That’d make any man go crazy.”

Maybe he’s right. Denying the pull could be what’s making me act like an ass. But allowing myself to feel what I’ve been pushing down deep means… fuck, I have no clue. What I do know is that being a part of Layla and Axelle’s life means responsibility. I won’t let myself give in to the possibility of what might be if I’m not committed to making it happen. And then there’s my past to wrestle with. The anger, the control, my secret. What if they walk away? Could I handle that kind of loss? That’s what I’ve got to figure out.

I look up from my huddled ball of shame. “You know where she is?”

He tosses a quick look over his shoulder. “Last I saw, she was outside with Rex and Caleb.”

“Fuck.” I push up from the ground. “I’ll make it right.”

He claps me on the shoulder as I pass by. “Good. And think about what I said.”

Yeah, yeah.

Walking through the locker room feels like a death march. The thought that Layla’s mad at me is enough to make me sick. But the idea that she may not forgive me is one too painful to consider.

I find her sitting in a chair just outside the locker room door. Rex and Caleb aren’t with her, and she doesn’t look like she’s been crying. Thank God.

She stands and moves toward me, concern etched into her gorgeous face. “Blake, what happened back there?”

I stop a foot away from her, making sure not to reach out and pull her to me until I know we’re okay. “I’m really sorry, Mouse. I have no excuse other than I’m an a**hole.”

Her eyebrows drop low over her blinking lashes.

“I have this impulse to keep you and Axelle safe.” I run my hand over my head, hoping she doesn’t think I’m as pathetic as I sound. “I’m not saying it’s okay, I’m just trying to get you to understand.”

She nods over and over. Her eyes are wide and staring at me, or through me. Not a word is coming from her lips. Did I spook her? She’s still nodding.

“Mouse?”

Her eyes focus on me and shine with moisture.

“Ah, fuck. I’m sorry.” I reach for her and pull her in for a hug. My stomach jumps in surprise when her arms go around my waist and hug me tight. I hold her head against my chest and nuzzle her hair. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

As if timing is out to f**k me, Jonah comes strolling out of the locker room. He takes a second to study our position before a smile cuts through his serious expression. I glare at him, but can’t help a small grin from pulling at my lips.

Damn, I hate it when he’s right.

He shakes his head and walks away.

“Let me take you out tomorrow night,” I say into her hair.

“I can’t.” She pushes out of the hug, but I keep my arms around her. “I have plans tonight.”

“Plans?” The word vibrates from my chest. Adrenaline once again roars through my veins.

She places her palms on my chest and tilts her head back to look at me. “I told you the other day. I’m going out with Raven.”

Oh, thank fuck. “Where’re you girls going?”

“We thought we’d grab some dinner, maybe go watch Ataxia. It won’t be a late night since I have to work Saturday at, um, you know.” A pink hue colors her cheeks.

The publicity party at Flesh. Like I could forget. “All right, Mouse.” I place a quick kiss on her head and release her from my hold. “Another time then.”

A flash of disappointment registers in her expression. I wrestle with the urge to grin like a kid.

She picks at the logo on my tee. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, right? At the—”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Watching over you and wishing like hell I could lock you away to keep you safe.

“Maybe we could, you know, go grab a bite after?”

Battle lost, I grin. “You askin’ me out?”

She smacks my chest, and the bell-like sound of her laughter trickles from her lips and straight to my gut. “You said you wanted to go out.”

I flatten her hand against my chest and hold her to me. “Oh, I do.” Cupping her jaw, I run my thumb along her bottom lip. So plump and kissable… fuck, I’d bite it if I could. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, Mouse.”

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J.B. Salsbury's Novels
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