Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(26)

She turned her head at the last minute, chickening out. Zach was in the car, probably staring. She didn’t . . . she couldn’t . . .

Oh, hell. She was going to. When he started to pull back, she rose up on her toes and brushed a light kiss across his mouth. He didn’t push, didn’t press for more. But the way his breath hitched, just a little, told her he was affected.

“We have to get going.” When he didn’t release her arm, she made a flapping motion. “I need that to drive.”

“Right. Sorry.” He stepped back, letting go to run a hand over his hair. “Have dinner with me.”

“Zach is still grounded,” she began, but he cut her off.

“Just us. I need to see you.”

“I . . .” Ah, hell. This was not going to end well. “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think. Just say yes. Tomorrow night. We’ve been given Monday morning off, so Sunday’s a good night for grilling. Please.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said again, because saying no when he was standing in front of her was impossible. “Congratulations.” She ran for the driver’s side, opening the door before he could try to do it for her and sliding in. As she closed the door and sighed, Zach leaned forward between the seats from the back.

“Mom? Were you kissing Graham?”

“Adults kiss people they’re close to,” she said neutrally, watching Graham walk back toward the gym doors.

“How close are you?”

Getting closer every day, whether it was right or not.





CHAPTER


8

Graham settled down in his reclining love seat, a beer in his lap, and handled his phone. The device flipped from hand to hand, rolled over fingers and mesmerized his turned-off brain . . . until he dropped it and it clattered to the floor.

Another super Sunday night for him. He could call friends, though most had lives of their own and would be busy on Sunday. His teammates could possibly make it, but they each had their own women to be home with, or had already made plans to fully utilize their morning off tomorrow. Didn’t seem fair to drag them away from their happy cocoons to come wallow with him.

He could call Kara.

That caused him to grimace and take another swig. Yeah. Because punishing himself was a top priority. Why would he call just to get rejected—again—for dinner? He’d asked, and she’d hedged. Because she was too polite to come right out and say “No, now stop asking.” The fact that she hadn’t called him meant it was a definite no.

Time to move on.

Yeah. Right.

His phone vibrated on the floor, and he nearly pitched himself out of the recliner struggling to pick it up. When he saw Greg’s name on the display with the text, he grunted and nearly let it drop again. But he swiped a finger right to read the message.

What are you doing tonight?

Seriously? Greg had a bombshell like Reagan Robilard in his clutches, and he was asking about plans? If his friend was that big of an idiot, Graham couldn’t help him. Before he could put the phone away, it buzzed again.

Don’t be a chicken shit. Ask her out.

So that was the real reason for the question. Not to join him, but to give him a kick in the ass.

He huffed out a breath, set the beer bottle to the side and texted back.

She’s not going to come here alone. Zach’s grounded. It’s a SNAFU, all around.

Try anyway.

Drop it.

Try.

Because he wanted to prove Greg wrong, he opened a new message for Kara. Then, thinking better of it, he closed that and called her. When she answered, he blinked in surprise before saying, “Hey.”

“Hi,” she said, her voice a little breathless.

There was a long pause, then she asked slowly, “Graham? You called me.”

“Right. Sorry.” Get it together, man. “I was wondering about dinner. Tonight. You know, just you and me.”

Kara cleared her throat, and he waited in resignation for the no.

“It’s funny you should ask.” Her voice sounded tight, but he wasn’t going to question it when hope soared. “Reagan is here, asking to babysit.”

That took him aback. “Reagan is there? What for?”

“To babysit,” she said again with what was obviously forced patience. “She just got it into her head to repay me for helping set up the gym the other night before the fight. I guess I’m free.”

“She is!” Reagan said cheerfully from the background. “Zach and I are gonna pig out on popcorn and watch romantic comedies.”

There was an exaggerated groan from somewhere else in the distance, which made Graham smile. “Okay, so, I’ll see you soon?”

“Fifteen or twenty, I’d guess.” She hung up without another word.

Thanks, dipshit. Now she thinks I orchestrated the whole thing.

Anytime. You two both need a kick in the ass.

He locked his phone and rolled his eyes, then stood to figure out exactly how much food prep he could accomplish in fifteen minutes.


*

AS Graham let Kara into the house, she sniffed appreciatively. “Smells . . . wow. Smells great.”

He gave her a smile as she left her bag on the love seat and followed him back to the kitchen. “Simple spaghetti. I’d thought about grilling, but when I didn’t hear from you, I never marinated the steaks. So it’s not as good as it could have been. Nothing to get excited about.”