One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)(89)

“Come on!” Phoebe’s eyes are sparkling. “Let’s get closer to the stage!”

“It’s not a ballet recital, little bird. It’s called the octagon.” Nate’s voice is warm.

She waves away her fiancé’s words. “Whatever.”

I grin and sip my beer as we push our way through the crowd, Parker’s heat at my back.

“Who is Blaze fighting, tonight?” Lila leans close so I can hear her.

“Jack Forrester. Really giant dude from Maine. Built like an oak tree. They call him Lumberjack. He has a killer knock-out punch.”

Lila swallows. “Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Every damn time,” I admit. “I pray for the girl who ever falls for Luca. With what he does… you’d never get a good night’s sleep so long as he’s fighting. And I don’t see him stopping anytime soon. There are UFC scouts here, tonight. If he wins…” I glance at her and see thoughts turning over in her eyes. “He’s going all the way.”

She nods slowly and sips her beer, but says nothing else.

Lila is a conundrum.

On the one hand, she’s blunt and bold and funny as hell. On the other… she’s a total mystery. Even her closest friends aren’t exactly sure what she does for a living or how she spends her free time. I have a feeling there’s a lot more lurking behind those glossy brown eyes than she lets on.

When we reach the ring, the girls engage in a heated discussion about which octagon girl has the best outfit as we watch them parade around, hyping up the crowd. (The one in the black leather lace-up bikini is winning by a landslide.) The men adopt carefully blank expressions and refrain from commenting on our debate.

Apparently, they’re smarter than I gave them credit for.

Chase, Nate, Parker, Owen, and Theo form a towering wall at our backs, keeping the crowd from pushing in on us as the overhead lights start to flash, a telltale sign that things are about to begin. I’m laughing at something Parker’s whispered in my ear when a young guy in a Scythe Gym t-shirt appears in front of me along the inner railing.

“You Zoe?” he asks, his brown eyes nervous.

I feel Parker and Nate both shift into high-alert mode.

“Yeah,” I say, eyebrows lifting.

“Blaze wants to see you.”

My face screws up in a confused mask. “But he never wants to see me before his matches. He’s in his zen mode.”

“Apparently he changed his mind tonight.” The guy’s expression is anxious — it’s clear he doesn’t want to let down the hulking, two hundred pound wall of pure muscle who sent him out here to get me. “He said he needs to talk to you before he fights. Alone.”

Shit.

If Luca wants to see me, he must be more worried about this fight than I thought. I suddenly feel like the worst friend on earth — I didn’t even check in with him today.

“I have to go,” I say immediately, looking up at Parker. “I’ll be right back.”

“You’re not going anywhere alone.” His voice is totally serious.

Nate shakes his head, seconding Parker’s statement. “Agreed.”

“Guys! I’m not leaving the building. I’ll be fifty feet away. Luca never asks to see me before a fight — if he’s asking, it must be important.”

“I don’t like it,” Parker growls. “This crowd is ready to combust.”

“I’ll stay with her,” the gym guy assures him. “Bring her right there and straight back. I swear.”

“Honey.” I reach up and brush my lips against Parker’s. “Remember that conversation we just had, about not putting me in a cage?”

His eyes flare with frustration and a muscle jumps in his jaw. “You come straight back. You’re not here in my arms in five minutes, I’m coming in after you. I don’t care what ginger boy has to say about it.”

“Ginger boy?” I snort. “I’m totally telling Luca you said that.”

“I don’t give a shit what you tell him.” His mouth crushes mine in a kiss. “Five minutes.”

I nod and pass Lila my beer. “Here. I’m not going to finish this.”

She shrugs and takes a sip. “More for me.”

Parker doesn’t look happy about it, but he lifts me up over the railing with a nod to the bouncers. I wave goodbye to my friends as the attendant leads me around the ring toward the doors where the fighters are waiting in their separate locker rooms, getting geared up. Just before the crowd swallows us, I look back… straight into Parker’s eyes.

I see the worry there, in their depths. But also trust. And maybe, if I look a little deeper, I see love, too.

He loves me.

I hang onto that feeling as I hurry after the Scythe guy, cutting a path up the fenced-off walkway toward the back rooms and trying to ignore the screaming crowd. We leave behind the mass of fans and step into a secluded hallway, the heavy doors swinging shut behind us with a bang, blocking out the roar.

“Damn, that was loud,” I mutter, ears still ringing. I shake my head to clear them as I follow the man down the hallway. “How do you stand working here, on fight nights? Aren’t you worried you’ll go deaf?” I joke.

The man doesn’t answer; he just keeps walking down the deserted hall.