Fighting Shadows (On the Ropes #2)(20)

“Three burgers all the way, onion rings, and a shake?” the guy at the counter called out.

Ash arched an eyebrow. “You want it to go, or are we good?”

I didn’t have to drop my attitude. Sure, she’d apologized, but while I might have had a short fuse, I also had a hell of a long burn. However, as she stood in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest and her blue eyes pleading for forgiveness, it magically fell away.

I swallowed hard. “No. We’re good.”

“You sure?” She leaned in, eyeing me warily, but her smile began to grow.

I swear to God it pulled at my lips as well. I fought it. But the harder I tried to keep it restrained, the bigger Ash’s grew. She was stealing my smile. The chick was good! Finally, with an eye roll, I let out a quiet chuckle, which seemed to appease her.

“Good. Now, help your brother get redressed and I’ll make the fancy sauce.” She waggled her eyebrows.





“No! I dreamed about it. I swear to you, three months later, they won.”

“You are so full of it.”

“I’m not kidding. I totally predicted it.”

“I’m calling bullshit,” Quarry said, swiping a fry through my mayo-and-ketchup concoction.

“Well, I’m calling bullshit on your bullshit.” I reached forward, snagging one of his fries since I had completely devoured all of mine.

He tried to swat my hand away, but he was way too slow. Unfortunately, he had been paying attention to the lessons I’d been giving him every night since he’d moved in. While I was preoccupied with his fries, he stole my shake.

“Germs!” I yelled as he pulled a long sip. I wasn’t serious though. I didn’t have any germs that I knew of, and even though Quarry probably had a slew, I didn’t particularly care. I was having entirely too much fun to worry about catching a cold. “Stop! You’re gonna drink it all!”

“Fine. I’ll get my own.” He stood up and headed toward the counter, leaving me alone with the definition of fun personified.

“So, Flint. I heard you used to be a boxer too. I bet that was fun, you and your brothers all hanging out in the gym together.”

“Yep,” he answered stoically, leaning back and folding his hands over his lap.

“Do you miss it?” I ripped the breading off the onion ring and popped it into my mouth.

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Sometimes.”

“Quarry told me you used to be really good at it. You ever thought of doing, like, the Special Olympics or something? They have that, right?” I peeled another onion.

“The Special Olympics are for children with intellectual disabilities. I’m starting to think you might be a better suited for it than I am.”

Whoa!

Flint Page was quite possibly the weirdest guy I had ever met. I mean, I wasn’t exactly an expert on men or anything, but even I could tell he wasn’t normal, so to speak. On the surface, he was fine-looking. His dark-brown hair was perfectly styled, but he had this weird patchy thing on his face that I assumed was supposed to be a beard. He had gorgeous, blue eyes, but they were always so angry. If he’d smiled a little more, he could have been attractive. Maybe. But what really boggled my mind was the fact that it seemed like he truly wanted to be a miserable *. And let me just tell you, he was good at it. Luckily, my father was a dick. I knew exactly how to handle it.

I pasted on a sugary smile and met his angry smolder. “Nah, I’m not all that athletic. I’m more of a dancer.” I leaned back and propped my legs up on the table, crossing them at the ankles. “But hey, thanks for implying that I’m stupid. For a man in a wheelchair, you sure toss around stereotypes all willy-nilly.”

He quickly looked away.

That was the other weird thing about Flint. He worked so hard to be a dick, but the second I called him on it, I could see the guilt physically wash over his face.

He let out a loud huff. “Sorry.”

“No biggy,” I replied, removing my legs from the table.

Using my teeth, I ripped a packet of ketchup open and squirted it into my fancy sauce. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me. I was relatively sure he was waiting for me to look back up, but I was still nursing the sting from our last interaction. I was in no rush to start round two.

“Flint!” Quarry yelled across the restaurant. “You want one too? They have peanut butter banana.”

“Ew,” I mumbled to myself.

“Yeah. I’ll take one,” Flint answered, and when I looked up, his eyes were still glued to me, and his expression appeared to be amused. “Not a fan of the banana?”

“Oh, I love bananas. Peanut butter makes me puke.”

“Fair enough,” he answered then went back to staring at me.

What the hell is with this guy and his staring?

I wiped my chin just to make sure I didn’t have food on my face while wishing Quarry would put a move on it and get his ass back to the table. He was fun to talk to. Flint? Not so much.

“Soooo . . .” I started awkwardly, unsure what else to say, but Flint suddenly had more than enough of his own words to need mine.

“I don’t like to think about the past. I would assume most people in my position wouldn’t want to sit around and reminisce about everything they’ve lost. Yeah, I miss boxing though. A lot.”