“You know the old saying about teaching a man how to fish?”

That he can feed himself. “Yeah.”

He motions with his hand that I have my answer, but I don’t. Instead I have a raised brow. Maybe Grandpa’s drinking again. “Does that mean you’re training him?”

“It means if you agree to spar, like we negotiated earlier, then I’ll help you train him.”

Whaaaat? “But if you train him, he can fight all the fish he wants.” Or something like that.

John scratches the back of his head. “Hays, I need you to learn how to fight.”

“I know how to fight.” Each word comes out slowly, as if I don’t believe it myself.

“No, you don’t.”

I want to ask him what he means—what he’s hoping for—but there are things so dark and dirty and hopeless inside me that I’d prefer everyone, like me, continue to ignore they exist.

“The fight,” I say. “Will you register him?”

“Is he eighteen?” John asks. “If not, no. Even better, if he’s a minor, I want his parents’ permission to be standing in my gym and if he’s eighteen, then he’s got a shitload of forms to fill out. I’m not looking for anyone to sue my ass when he dies.”

I roll my eyes at his last statement if only because he’s putting my worst fear for West into words. “West! Are you eighteen?”

Say no. Say no. Say no. Legal age to fight MMA in Kentucky is eighteen.

“You don’t know your boyfriend’s age?” asks John. I ignore him because...well...really? If West and I were a for real couple, his birthday would be hearted in red on my calendar. Okay, maybe not my style, but still...

From across the room, West nods and I mumble, “Damn.” So much for an easy way out. West struts in my direction and I push off the wall. If John isn’t training him, then I’d like to permanently avoid introductions.

“Will you do it?” I ask John as I back away. “Will you register him?”

“If he’s got the money for the fees, then I’ll get him in.” He holds his fingers up in the air and rubs them together. “And for that you stay in my gym until the end of summer.”

My hands slam onto my hips. “Summer?”

“Take it or leave it.” John focuses on the computer again.

“Fine.” I’ve become an indentured servant teaching myself how to fish in the desert without a net or a pole.

The word fees eventually sinks in, and, as I stroll up next to West, I say, “I hope you make good money.”

Chapter 28

West

Haley rakes a hand through her hair, then grips it at the base of her neck like she’s going to tear it out. “Shirt off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I’ve already lost the shoes and socks. “I’ll take the shorts off, too, if you’d like.”

I thumb the edge of my waistband and Haley shakes her head too quickly. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You know you want me to,” I say and enjoy every second of watching her skin blotch red and the slight tilt of her lips. In typical Haley fashion, she chooses to ignore me. One day, I’ll climb into that head she constantly withdraws into.

Her grandfather left for the night and Haley is sexy as hell in her sports bra and shorts. Her flat stomach looks so soft, so smooth. My fingers twitch with the need to caress it.

A rush of air escapes her lips. “Crap.”

“Want to fill me in?”

She blinks as if she’s noticing me for the first time, which does nothing for my ego. Girls usually pay attention to me when I have my shirt off.

“You weigh 177 pounds.”

“Yeah.” Not news.

“I need you to weigh 170.” Her eyes roam my body. “And there is not an ounce of fat on you.” Haley bites her lower lip as she stares at my abs and I grin. Now I’ve got the girl’s attention.

I step off the scale and the lever clanks against the metal. “You keep telling me this is going to be hard-core. I’ll lose the weight.”

“Yeah, but you’ll also gain muscle. I’ll figure it out later. Come on.” Haley pulls at her hair again, then lets it cascade through her fingertips.

I’ve filled more than one night this week driving out the darkness and loneliness by fantasizing about rumpling Haley’s silky hair and placing my mouth over those gorgeous lips. It’s taking every ounce of willpower I possess not to push her against the wall and kiss her. The image in my head almost causes me to groan. My shirt’s off, her stomach is exposed, hot flesh would be touching...

Damn, I’m killing myself. I snatch my shirt off the floor and trail Haley to the open spot near the mirrors. I’m doing the friend thing with Haley. Just friends. No benefits. She’s proven time and again she deserves the respect. “You say that a lot.”

“What?”

“That you’ll figure things out.”

She raises one shoulder as she snags a yellow ball off the floor. “That’s because I will.”

“The weight of the world isn’t on you, you know? There’re a couple other billion people who can help you figure out the solution to global warming.”

I earn a half smirk from Haley as she rolls out the two-inch wide material. “I’m not worried about global warming.”

“You know what I mean.”

She pretends I didn’t speak. “Have you ever wrapped your hands before?”