The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(76)

“We weren’t chatting,” she said. “We were just... It was nothing.”

“Of course it was nothing. Since you’re so in love with me and all.” He turned to the kids. “Pay attention, kids. Honor, hands up.”

“I’m not going to hit you.” Just the idea made her feel a little sick. “No, thanks.”

“Sure you are. I can take it.”

“No, really. I’m not comfortable doing this.”

“Exactly! Kids, did you hear that? She’s not comfortable fighting. And she does have a point. Most girls don’t grow up scrabbling in the schoolyard, do they? Maybe they’ve been conditioned not to hurt anyone, and yeah, it can go against the grain, which is all the more reason to learn this.”

Honor didn’t feel so good. Tom was right; her mother used to have a fit if they so much as wrestled. The one time fighting might’ve come in handy—aside from the catfight, of course—she’d been frozen in shock.

Crap. Not the time to remember that. Her heart seemed to thud in fits and starts, and there was a roaring in her ears.

“Come on now,” Tom said. “It’s a good lesson for them.” He raised the eyebrow with the scar running through it. “And you can look adorable in front of your boyfriend.”

“He’s not—”

“Ready, then?” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned toward the kids. “So say I’ve grabbed the incredibly beautiful Honor here.” He wrapped her in an abrupt hug, pinning her arms at her sides, and adrenaline spurted into her limbs. Her breath left in a gasp. Was it hot in here? “And then I shove her against a wall. No way out.” He pushed her gently against the corner post and leaned in. “Give me your money, or are you alone, sweetheart—you all get the idea, right?”

Why was she so nervous? Her legs were shaking, and gray spots were floating in front of her.

“She can’t get away, she’s totally helpless, she’s just a soft little female, or so I think. Okay, love, on the count of three, a right uppercut, bend your knees, turn that gorgeous—”

Her left fist appeared out of nowhere, slamming into his eye. Tom staggered back, one hand covering his eye. The kids gasped, hands flying over their mouths. Honor’s hand—her nonviolent hand—was over her mouth as well.

“Oh, my God, she hit him!” said one girl. “That’s so mean!”

“Are you all right?” he asked her. She tried to answer and couldn’t find her voice, nodded instead.

He was bleeding. Blood was pouring down his face. It seemed her engagement ring had cut him under the eye. Goggy clucked in concern and handed Tom a tissue, which instantly bloomed with red.

“I guess I was wrong about the soft helpless bit, yeah?” His voice was tight.

Her knuckles started to throb. Carlos Mendez was suddenly in the ring with a towel, and blood was dripping onto the mat. Brogan, too, came through the ropes. “You okay?” he asked, putting a warm hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to Tom, her voice thin and shaky.

“I’m fine, gang,” he said to the kids. “Honor here proved a good point. You’re all quite strong enough if the situation demands it, yeah? Her engagement ring caught me. Nothing to worry about. Shows the importance of blocking, doesn’t it.”

“You’re gonna need stiches, bro,” Carlos said.

Tom glanced at her, his eye already beginning to swell. “Feel like a run to hospital?” he asked. “Kids, class is over for today. Good job all around. Abby, would you mind driving Charlie home?”

* * *

“LOOK, I TOLD you I didn’t want to do it,” Honor snapped.

“And clearly you were sincere,” Tom snapped back, lifting the gauze the nurse had given him when they came in. “Quite the hotshot, aren’t you?”

“Yes! I am! The thing is, you were right,” she said, looking away. “Most women don’t fight for fun. I didn’t want to do it, I was nervous. I told you not to make me do it, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“Blame the victim, that’s it. Does ‘on the count of three’ mean nothing to you, darling, or was there another reason for that punch?”

“I was nervous! I’m sorry, okay? I’m really, really sorry.”

He gave her a one-eyed glare, the flesh around his eye puffy and red. “You’re welcome to make it up to me, darling. I can think of about ten things you can do for starters.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” she said, even as a hot, tight nervousness grabbed her insides.

“Hello, hello!” The door to the exam room opened, and a tiny Asian girl came in, roughly five foot nothing, ninety pounds and perhaps twelve years old. Honor instantly felt like an Amazon. Not in the good way. “I’m Dr. Chu, and what have we here?”

“A bit of a cut,” Tom said. “My girlfriend has a mean streak.”

“There was a slight accident,” Honor ground out.

“Dude, that’s awful!” the doctor said. “Bummer.”

“How old are you?” Honor asked.

“Um, twenty-three?” she answered. “I started college when I was, like, sixteen. A complete trip. But I’m totally a real doctor. Well, sort of. I’m an intern? And I’ve never done stitches before, so I’m totally psyched.”