Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(6)

“And now you teach it.”

“Teaching brought me more per hour than working the desk handing out towels. And I got bonuses if I had so many people per class. I added in Pilates because it complemented the workout. And I love it. It’s not work anymore.”

“See that dreamy look in her eyes?” Marianne grinned and bumped shoulders with Reagan. “That’s how I want her to look at a guy someday.”

“She will,” Reagan said, looking defensive. “She’s just not ready yet.”

“One day,” Kara said. “One day.” When someone knocked on the door, she glanced at her friends. “Are the guys picking you up?”

“I told Brad I’d text him when we were done, since we would be drinking.” Marianne checked her phone with a frown. “But I don’t think that’s him.”

Kara stood and walked to the front door. A quick check at the peephole had her flattening her back against the door. “It’s Graham,” she whispered. “What do I do?”

Both girls looked expectantly at her. After a moment, Graham knocked again.

“Open it,” Reagan mouthed.

Marianne pointed at Reagan and nodded in agreement.

“I can’t,” Kara mouthed back.

Marianne rolled her eyes and walked to the door, pushing Kara out of the way and opening it with a flourish. “Graham, hey.”

Kara listened as Graham paused. “Where’s Kara?”

She covered her face.

“Let’s find out. Come on in.” Marianne hauled him in and straight over to the couch. “What brings you to our little girl fest?”

“Girl fest? I thought this was where Kara was showing you guys how to use Zach’s EpiPens? I wanted to come by and learn.”

Her heart melted. She closed the front door and walked out from behind it. “Hey.”

He turned, and her mouth watered. In a dark polo that looked amazing with his perma-tanned skin, dark hair and darker eyes, jeans and boots, he was delicious. “Where’d you come from?”

“Never mind that. You wanted to see the EpiPens?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking a little embarrassed. “I didn’t realize this was a girl thing. I can go.”

She caught his arm as he started to walk toward the door. “No, stay.” When he hesitated, she squeezed gently. It was like squeezing a PVC pipe . . . a thick one. “You’re right, that was the main point of tonight’s get-together. So let’s do it.”

When he raised a brow, she flushed. Oh God . . . “Not . . . I mean, not do . . . it . . .” she finished weakly. “I’m gonna go get the pens.” She ran toward the kitchen before she said something stupid.

More stupid. As if there was something more stupid than that.


*

GRAHAM wiped his damp palms on his jeans and looked at the two women sitting on the couch, staring as if they were watching a movie in a theater. “What?”

“Nothing,” Reagan said softly. “I’m just feeling a little warm. Is it warm?” she asked Marianne.

“Very,” the trainer confirmed. “Have a seat, Graham.”

He wanted to grumble at the innuendo and secret language they were sharing, but refrained. He perched on the edge of the armchair, looking around. “Where’s the kid?”

“Friend’s house. And here’s the mom.” Marianne stood and took the basket of oranges from Kara’s hands and set it on the table. “I thought the cheese and crackers were snack enough.”

Kara sat down in front of the table, across from the couch, and settled a plastic tote box full of slender boxes beside them. “They’re not a snack. Everyone grab an orange.”

Graham did, brushing his knuckles against Kara’s as they reached for the same one. She jerked back, and the orange fell to the coffee table. Marianne cleared her throat. Reagan stared intently at a wall to the side.

“Sorry,” Kara said, handing him the orange without touching. “Okay, so here’s one version of a pen. These were his last version. This is the trainer, so you can test it first and see what it’s like. No needle, no risk.” She demonstrated pulling the cap off, then went through miming thrusting it into her thigh and holding it for ten seconds after a clicking sound. “Count, out loud, because too much is going on at once and you have to make sure you keep it there the right amount. Then immediately call 911, even if he looks like he’s doing better. Anytime, anywhere you have to use the EpiPen, you should call 911, even if he seems like he’s improving already.”

“That seems violent,” Reagan said as she took the trainer from Kara. “Why does it have to be so hard against your thigh? Why not more gently against the arm?”

“The thigh is the best place, because it spreads the medicine the fastest and is the easiest spot for self-injection. But you have to hold it there because there’s a recoil. The thigh isn’t flabby.”

“Well, some are,” Reagan said, patting her own curvy legs.

“Stop,” Marianne said, taking the trainer pen and trying it out before handing it to Graham. He did the same, inspecting it closely after giving it a try.

The thought of having to use the pen on Zach’s small body made his hand shake a little as he handed it back to Kara. She gave him an odd look, but then passed out another pen exactly like the first. Except it was a bit more colorful.