Fighting Shadows (On the Ropes #2)(82)

“Thingy.” I laughed to myself. “I know. We have to go early too,” I replied, closing my computer. After snagging my suit coat off the back of my chair, I grabbed my cane to head out of my home office.

“What?” she yelled again. “I thought Till and Slate were the only ones who had to be there early?”

“As his agent, it’s kinda my job to be there.” I gingerly made my way down the stairs to find her standing in the kitchen with a half apron tied around her waist. “Don’t you look like Betty Crocker?” I smirked.

“Hey, I take my job as head rainbow-cupcake maker very seriously.” She blew the hair out of her eyes.

Using my thumb, I rubbed the flour off the tip of her chin. “I can tell.” Once I’d hung the hook of my cane on the counter, I put my hands under her arms and lifted her to sit on the counter.

“Don’t knock over my food coloring!” she squealed.

I glanced over her shoulder, noticing that it was too late for the red. “I’m not,” I lied, taking her mouth. “So, did you think any more about our talk this morning?”

“It was two hours ago . . . and I’ve been baking. So no.” She pecked my lips.

“Come on. We can work in a quickie now.” I moved my hand between her legs, rubbing against the seam of her jeans.

She swatted it away. “One, we have to go. Two, even if I agreed, birth control doesn’t just stop on demand. And three, I’m not conceiving a baby on the counter next to Quarry’s celebratory cupcakes.”

“Does that mean it’s a yes?” I asked, raking my teeth over the sensitive flesh of her neck.

She moaned sensually but pushed me away. “No. It means I’m still thinking. Now, can you let the dogs out while I finish packing up these bad boys?”

I groaned, accepting my temporary defeat. “Does Q know you made rainbow cupcakes? The media is going to be there, Ash. I’m relatively sure he was assuming you’d make something a little more masculine for his professional boxing announcement.”

Her mouth fell open in amused outrage. “Of course he doesn’t know! That’s the entire point of making rainbow cupcakes!”

I shook my head in humor. Some things never changed.

Heading to the back door, I clapped my hands and called, “Julio. Rico. Let’s go!”

Julio came barreling around the corner with our one-eyed pug, Rico, hot on his limping heels.

After closing the door, I started toward our bedroom to nervously change my tie for the tenth time, but a knock at the door rerouted me.

“That’s Liv! Can you open that for her? She probably has her hands full,” Ash called, but before I even got to the foyer, Liv had already let herself in.

“Too slow,” she said, walking in carrying half a watermelon shaped like a basket. Various fruits were carved into flowers, complete with a pineapple bumblebee on the top.

“Wow. That is . . .” I began laughing, unable to complete the thought. “Rainbow cupcakes and a watermelon fruit basket. I see you and Ash have been conspiring.”

She giggled. “Wait until you see what Eliza had made.”

“Holy shit. You got her in on it too?”

She nodded proudly. “Let’s just say, right now, a table-top ice sculpture of Quarry riding a unicorn is out for delivery.”

My eyes went wide as I gasped, “No way.”

“Yep,” Ash confirmed, walking over to take the fruit from Liv.

“You do understand that I’m trying to market him as a professional heavyweight boxer, right?”

They burst out laughing, throwing each other high fives.

“You two are horrible. This is his career we’re talking about,” I said sternly as they continued giggling. With a resigned sigh, I gave up on the worthless attempt at a lecture. “Okay, let’s get out of here. I need to see this sculpture.”





“Where the f*ck is he?” Till boomed as we all huddled in Flint’s office at the gym.

Eliza paced the floor while Flint ran damage control, assuring the numerous media outlets that Quarry was on his way.

If he really was though, none of us knew. Quarry was officially two hours late to his own press conference announcing his much-awaited transition to professional boxing.

Over the previous three years, Q had dominated every single facet of the amateur boxing world. He’d been widely followed because of his connection to Till and Slate, and Q did not disappoint. He was a virtually untouchable beast who was equally as charismatic inside the ring as he was out of it. Gracing the pages of sports magazines everywhere, he was the new golden boy in professional boxing—even though he had yet to even step in the ring. When Flint had scheduled an exclusive press conference months earlier, the boxing community had gone nuts with hopes and speculation that Quarry would, in fact, finally make the crossover. Hopes we all shared.

Slate had held Quarry back for as long as possible, determined that his rise was not going to be the slow, uphill climb Till’s had been. And as much as it had ticked Q off, thanks to Slate and Flint, he already had six-figure contracts in the works.

But that was all assuming we found him.

“I’m going to kill him. He’s bitched for two years for this, and now, his dumb ass doesn’t show. That’s it. I’m dropping him. He wants to act like a little f*cking prima donna, he can find a new trainer.” Till ran a rough hand through his hair then kicked an empty chair over.