Текст книги "Fighting the Fall"
Автор книги: Jennifer Snow
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Chapter 11
From his office the next morning, Tyson saw Dane waiting outside the front door. He waved and Tyson went to unlock it. “What happened to your key?” he asked, unlocking the outside of the door and flicking on the open sign in the window.
Dane looked frazzled as he said, “I forgot it.”
“Well, don’t lose it. They cost like fifty bucks to replace,” he said, heading back inside.
“I won’t,” he said, as he followed him to his office. “I need more fights, Tyson.”
How had he known that was coming? Dane hadn’t fought in months and while he paid him as an assistant coach at the gym, it wasn’t the payday he received from the fights. “Okay. I’ll talk to Erik—see if I can get you on a card early next year.”
“Nah, man, that’s months away. I haven’t fought in almost a year. My sponsors are threatening to walk if I don’t fight again soon.”
Tyson studied the middleweight fighter. The truth was, the guy wasn’t the most disciplined fighter he had at his camp, which meant convincing the MFL’s matchmaker to put him on a card was a challenge. When Dane wanted to train, wanted to win, he was one of the best at 185, but most of the time, he neglected the strict diet and training schedules needed to become a champion. Sometimes he won, sometimes he didn’t, and either way he was happy. The guy loved to fight—for him it wasn’t about being the best. Unfortunately, while that made him a fan favorite and a respectable opponent, it didn’t make securing fights an easy task. “I’ll see what I can do, okay?” he said, seeing Parker come in.
An image of her in the stunning red dress—or rather, the dress falling to the floor—the evening before flashed in his mind and he grinned briefly before a sudden uneasiness formed in the pit of his stomach. The night had been both incredible and eye-opening. They were from two completely different worlds. The movie executives and the other actors were all so different from the people he surrounded himself with. He didn’t fit into that world and he wondered if she was starting to realize that too.
“I’m sorry, Tyson, but if I can’t get a fight soon, I’m going to have to give up training for a while,” Dane was saying, cutting into his conflicting thoughts.
“It won’t come to that. Trust me, okay?” he said, standing and heading out of the office. He felt unsure and uneasy as he approached her, and he ordered himself to man up.
But the twisting in his gut continued as he drew nearer. Something was up with her as well. She looked nervous as she bit her lip and kept one eye on the front door. “What’s wrong?”
“Brantley is coming to watch my training today.”
He frowned. “Why?”
She shrugged. “He said he wants to check in on his ‘star’s’ progress,” she said tightly.
His star? The one he’d dropped the moment her third movie didn’t do so well at the box office? The feeling of jealous possessiveness that had plagued him since the night before was a foreign feeling to him. He’d never cared enough about a woman to feel anything close to the emotions tormenting him.
“Are you cool with that?” she asked when he was silent.
“I guess I have no choice,” he mumbled as the door opened and the executive came into the gym.
She looked apologetic as she sighed.
“I don’t see much training going on,” Brantley said with the arrogant air of a man on top of the world.
“I just got here,” Parker told Brantley. “Should we get started?” she asked Tyson.
Tyson cleared this throat. “Actually, I have to work with Dane for a while . . . why don’t you grab Billy.” He nodded toward the front door as the young fighter entered.
“What?” Billy asked, removing his headphones as the three of them turned to look at him.
“I need you to train with Parker for a bit today,” Tyson said, unable to look at the confused, disappointed expression on Parker’s face. It was time to start distancing himself. He’d let things get too far out of control with her. She would be gone soon . . . with Brantley. The night before had lifted the blinders and he’d seen clearly the differences in their worlds. Inside the gym, alone, together, it was easy to forget that she was a movie star. That she was a fantasy that men like him could only hope to hold in their arms. He’d been crazy to believe that things could work between them. And he’d been a fool to let his guard down.
Damn.
“Sure,” Billy said. “Want to start in the cage?” he asked Parker.
“Okay,” Parker said, walking away from him, Brantley in tow.
Tyson headed to the opposite end of the gym and motioned for Dane to join him on the heavy bags. “You want me to get you a fight? Let’s get to work,” he grumbled, grabbing a set of training gloves.
Dane stared across the gym toward Parker. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to suffer for your fight with your chick?”
Against his better judgment, he stole a glance at her and his chest tightened as the painful truth rolled off his tongue. “She’s not my chick, man.”
* * *
“So, we’re planning to start filming in two weeks,” Brantley said when she took a break a few hours later. He tucked into his pocket the cell phone that had been glued to his ear all morning.
Parker swallowed a gulp of water. “What? I thought filming started in January after the holidays.” The original schedule had them filming from January fifteenth until April first.
“We decided to move things up a bit. We’d like a Labor Day weekend release, so to make sure that happens, we need to start filming before the holidays.”
“But I’m nowhere close to being ready yet.” Sure, she’d come a long way in six weeks, but there was still more to learn, more sculpting needed on her body . . . more time with Tyson. Her gaze fell across the gym where he trained with Dane. That’s if he wanted more time with her.
His attitude that day confused her. What the hell had happened?
A few days ago, things were going great between them. But last night had felt different. While he’d held her, kissed her, wanted her more than ever, if possible, she’d felt him drifting away. And she hadn’t known how to pull him back in.
This morning’s brushoff, casually dismissing her to train with Dane, had hurt.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Now that we have a bigger budget, we can hire a real female fighter body double. We just need your pretty little face on screen.”
Pretty little face? That’s all she’d ever been to him. All she’d been to Hollywood. If she’d learned anything that year, it was that as quickly as the industry could love you, they could forget about you. She wouldn’t forget that this time.
And the idea of a body double annoyed her. She’d been so excited for this opportunity to prove she was more than just the pretty face. Now, it didn’t look like she’d get that chance. “I’d really like to continue training and stick to the original filming schedule,” she said, though she doubted what she wanted mattered. It never had before.
He checked his watch. “Don’t stress over the details. Just get your sexy ass to LA on a flight next week, okay? I have to get back to the hotel now. We’re interviewing the real fighters today. Read-through tomorrow—don’t forget.”
She fought the urge to show him her new right hook as she nodded.
When he left, she scanned the gym for Tyson. He was no longer working with Dane and she was desperate to talk to him. She suspected he’d been uncomfortable and out of his element at her party. The movie industry people had a way of making everyone else feel inferior. She’d had a way of doing it too . . . before. Before she’d experienced something real with Tyson.
At least, what they’d shared had been real for her. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure he felt the same way.
“Hey, Dane, where did Tyson go?” she asked, unwrapping her hands.
“Upstairs, I think,” he said, as he kept a steady rhythm on the speed bag.
“Yeah, I saw him up there a minute ago,” Connor said as he came toward them, broom in hand.
“Thanks.”
A moment later, she knocked on his apartment door. The sound of water running inside made her try the handle. The door was unlocked, and she hesitated for just a second before going inside. The man had all but torn her dress off the night before in the middle of her party; interrupting his shower seemed like fair play.
Removing her shorts and tank top, she opened the bathroom door slowly, quietly, and walked into the steamy room. His back was turned and she could barely make out his bare body through the glass shower door, as the water poured down over him. She slid her underwear down her legs and stepped out of them, undoing her sports bra and letting both fall to the floor next to his discarded clothes.
Then opening the door, she gently placed her hands on his back as she stepped inside. His body stiffened slightly at her unexpected touch, but as her hands trailed the length of his back, he reached for them, and pulled her arms tight around his waist. She rested her head against his back, holding on tight . . . somehow knowing he was slipping even further away than before.
* * *
Damn, he didn’t want to leave her.
Tyson rolled to his side among the tangled sheets, which were still damp from their bodies, and stared at Parker sleeping peacefully, unaware of the storm raging in his heart and mind.
He traced a finger along her arm and fought the urge to wake her to have her one more time before letting her go. He wasn’t the right man for her. He wasn’t the right man for anybody when the idea of committing, the thought of putting his trust in someone, the idea of believing in a make-believe forever made him want to run.
But damn, for a little while he’d almost believed he could do it.
Now, the pain he felt reminded him why getting involved with her—with anyone—was something he never should have done.
Unfortunately, he’d had no choice. She’d gotten to him. She’d broken down his defenses, silenced the cautioning voice in his mind, and now he would know what a broken heart felt like.
He hoped walking away now would at least save him just a little.
Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling, searching for the strength to get up and leave. She moaned in her sleep and rolled to face him, but her eyes remained closed as her hand fell onto his chest.
Sliding away from her, he leaned to kiss her forehead, breathing in the smell of her, one he would miss once it evaporated from his pillow, and turned away.
Grabbing his clothes from the bedroom floor, he quietly left the room, the sickening feeling in his stomach growing stronger, knowing he was breaking her heart while she slept.
* * *
“What was that about?”
“What?” Connor asked, pushing the mop across the floor in front of the weights.
“You and Dane.” He’d walked into the gym and saw them talking quietly and he didn’t like it. He’d told his brother to stay away from the guys. He didn’t want him bringing any of his shit or any of his problems in there. He might be getting better, but Tyson was still hesitant to trust him.
Connor shrugged. “Nothing. He was just asking me if I knew about any fights cards coming up.”
“Fight cards? As in illegal, unsanctioned fights?” Motherfucker. His hands clenched.
“They are not all illegal and unsanctioned, man. There are other legitimate fighting organizations others than the MFL.”
Not ones he wanted his training camp associated with.
“Besides, not all fighters grow up with Alan ‘The Steel Fist’ Reed as a father. Some fighters only make it to the minors.”
“Dane’s not one of them. He’s already proving he can throw down with the best. He’s already fought in the MFL, and I’m working on getting him more fights.” Why was he even having this conversation with his brother? “Look, either way, it doesn’t matter. You asked for a job around the gym, just do the job. No talking to my fighters.”
Connor shook his head and mumbled something under his breath.
Tyson swung back around. “Care to repeat that a little louder?”
He stopped mopping. “I said you sound like Dad. Your fighters? What the hell, man? You act like some hotshot who can dictate to these guys what they can and can’t do.”
He was not in the mood for a lecture from Connor, the guy who couldn’t make a good decision to save his life. “I’m helping these guys be the best they can be. I wouldn’t expect you to understand anything about it.” He turned to walk away.
“Just like Dad made you the best you can be?”
He paused. His brother needed to shut up.
“Is that why you’re so far up his ass . . .”
He turned and strode back toward him. “Listen to me. If Dad knew you were back . . . if he knew I was letting you anywhere near the gym, he would . . .” He relaxed his fist and forced a calming breath. Connor hadn’t asked for the job, he’d offered it. This was all on him. He could regret the decision, but he couldn’t pass off the blame.
Connor looked past him. “I guess we are about to find out what Dad would do.”
Turning, he saw his father come into the gym. Shit. He hadn’t seen him around much since he’d gotten back from Japan. Though, with the fight drawing closer, he knew his father would be around to help.
He pointed at Connor. “Don’t open your mouth.”
He gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir, Coach.”
Tyson met his father halfway across the gym, and derailed him toward the office. “Let’s talk in here,” he said quietly.
Some of the other fighters were training and he didn’t want an audience to watch this battle with his dad.
Closing the door to his office, he waited for the “What the hell is going on speech” but his father just stared at him.
“Look, he showed up weeks ago. He needed a place to stay . . .”
His father’s gaze was on the new display case. “That’s the real story behind the broken case.” It wasn’t a question.
Tyson placed his hands on his hips. “He said he wanted to get clean. What was I supposed to do?”
“You were supposed to remember the last time he said those words and send him packing.”
“Really? That’s what you would have done?”
“Yes.”
“He’s your son, Dad.” Like it or not, they were family.
His father stood and came toward him. “No. You are my son. My only son. That guy out there is a manipulator, a user, a no-good drug addict who will drag everyone around him down with him.” He touched his shoulders. “You can’t help him. I can’t help him. Your mother tried and . . .” His voice trailed.
He knew the truth in his father’s words, but he’d also seen his brother sweating it out, fighting the demons plaguing him these last several weeks. He seemed to be trying, even if he was a pain in the ass and didn’t know how to mind his own business.
The problem was, as much as his brother had changed over the years, despite the problems and pain he’d caused their family, a part of him still remembered the brother he’d once looked up to.
“So, what do you want me to do?”
“You’ve already made your decision. Now all we can do is sit back and wait for the next train wreck to occur . . . and it will.” He opened the office door. “Let me know if you need my help again before your fight.”
Damn.
He watched as his father headed toward the door. Connor walked toward him, but his father simply held a hand out to stop him. A familiar gesture. One that still made Tyson feel as though he’d been kicked in the gut.
The next train wreck . . .
* * *
Tyson picked up his office phone and dialed Erik Johansen’s number before he could find another reason to delay the call any longer. It was no secret he and the MFL matchmaker disliked each other. In fact, if Tyson wasn’t the fighter he was, he knew he’d never have gotten another contract with the MFL beyond his first fight, after messing around with Erik’s former girlfriend.
Three rings later, Erik answered. “Tyson, I have four minutes before my next appointment. Talk fast,” he said.
Tyson gave the phone a middle finger before saying, “We need to talk about the upcoming fight cards. I have guys who want to fight soon.” He scanned the fighter files on the desk in front of him, knowing Erik would be looking at a similar layout on his end.
“And I need fighters, so go—who do you have for the December card? I need a welterweight and a middleweight.”
Perfect. Erik was stepping right into the discussion he wanted to have, but first he’d deal with the easy negotiation. “For welter, I have Billy Carson. The kid fought last year on an undercard and won by decision.”
“I remember him.” He paused and Tyson heard papers shuffling on the other end.
He waited.
“Didn’t he tear a ligament in his left knee in training six months ago?”
Fuck. The man remembered everything. “All better.”
“You have a medical clearance form that says that?”
No asshole, I let my fighters walk into battles injured, he thought bitterly. He grabbed the medical clearance form from the file and went to the fax machine. “Sending it to you right now.”
“Great. Two minutes left. Who do you have at middleweight, besides Walker Adams—he’s already scheduled for January’s card . . . Hey, why didn’t we get him for December?”
Tyson smiled. This would be fun, at least. “Because he and your ex-girlfriend Gracie are getting married in Cancun over the holidays, which is also fight week, remember?” He had no idea if the executive had heard his former fiancé was newly engaged and planning a destination wedding, but either way he loved being the one to mention it. Erik had been such an asshole to Gracie while she’d worked for him and they’d dated, the guy deserved to be jealous and realize what he’d lost.
But Erik just cleared his throat and if he was frazzled by the news, he hid it well. “Fine. Walker’s out. Who else?”
“Dane Hardy.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“His record sucks.”
“It doesn’t. It’s eighteen and six. That’s not bad for a middleweight with a wrestling background . . . and he’s a fan favorite, so it doesn’t even matter.”
“Look, I know fans love him, but he’d be going up against Mark Peterson. He won’t win and if his record keeps getting shittier, I won’t be able to put him on cards just because he is the most popular fighter. I need guys who win.”
“I’ve been working with him. I’ll keep working with him. He will be ready.”
“No.”
“Look, either Dane fights or you don’t get Billy.” If Billy heard him using him as leverage to secure a fight for Dane, the kid would bust his balls, but that’s how this worked. He’d never admit it to the guys, but he used whatever he had to negotiate with to get all of his fighters the opportunities they deserved. Dane was working harder, training harder, and he would make sure by December’s fight event that the guy would be ready to compete, in the best shape of his career.
“What makes you think I’m that desperate?” Erik asked.
“You are always scrambling to place fighters last minute, man. Don’t give me that shit.” He leaned back in his chair and waited.
Erik was silent.
“Your next meeting is in thirty seconds,” he reminded.
“Fuck. Fine. Dane and Billy. Send me Dane’s clearance as well.”
He sat forward, reaching for the file. “Will do.”
“He better be ready, Tyson, or he’s not getting another fight for a while. At this point, I’d almost prefer putting your little actress on the fight card . . .” he said.
Of course he’d heard about Parker. And of course he’d had to say something about it. It wouldn’t be a normal conversation if they both didn’t seize any opportunity to bust the other’s balls about something. “She could kick your ass. Time’s up. Bye, Erik.”
* * *
The pain in his shoulder whenever he jabbed or threw a hook nearly buckled his knees, but he pushed through it. No one could know he was injured. Not now and not after the fight. Win or lose, no one would know he’d gone in at less than 100 percent.
“What’s up with your shoulder?” Walker asked behind the heavy bag he held for him.
“Nothing.” He threw several more jabs.
“Bullshit. I’ve seen you icing it, and your face twitches every time you make contact with the bag.”
“It’s nothing. I just wrenched it the other day. I’ll be fine.” He dropped his hands and checked the time on the wall. After ten. “It’s late. Let’s call it a night. Thanks for sticking around.” It was only the two of them at the gym.
“No problem. How are you feeling? Are you confident about this fight?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I feel good.” He’d never admit he wasn’t confident about the fight. He’d neglected his own training while helping Parker and, for the first time, he was going in to the fight not sure he was the more prepared fighter. He needed to focus and train around the clock the next few days—harder, more intense than ever.
Hopefully the physical exhaustion would help take his mind off of Parker. She hadn’t been at the gym for days, instead attending cast read-throughs. She hadn’t called or texted . . . neither had he. He shook it off. It was fine. This was the way it was always supposed to be.
Yet his heart raced a second later when his cell phone rang.
The number lighting up his call display made his heart pound. What the fuck did Connor do now? “Hello?”
“Tyson, I fucked up.”
The words were what he was expecting, but the voice wasn’t. He frowned. “Dane?”
“I killed someone,” he said, tears choking his words.
Tyson gripped the phone. “What happened, man?”
Walker stopped to give him a questioning look and he showed him the L.V.P.D. station number. Dane, he mouthed. Walker’s expression of disbelief matched his own.
“I . . . I . . . uh, went to see that fight promoter . . . the one Connor mentioned . . .”
Jesus, fuck! His jaw clenched and he forced a calming breath. “What happened?”
“I kicked the guy . . . It was hard . . . He didn’t stand back up . . .” Silence.
Shit. He rubbed his forehead. “Have you called a lawyer yet?”
“They . . . gave . . . me one call . . . I didn’t know who else . . .” His voice broke.
Tyson had never heard his friend sound so desperate. He couldn’t believe this. Dane was the last guy he’d expect to call him from a police station. He’d often jokingly told his guys he’d bail them out once for anything, after that they were on their own. He’d never thought anyone would need to take him up on it, especially Dane. “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you called me. Just don’t talk to anyone until I get there okay,” he said.
Silence.
“Dane!”
“I killed him . . .”
“Stop saying that. Do not say that to anyone.” Damn it. If Connor was standing in front of him at that moment, there would be another fatal incident that evening. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”
“I’m sorry, Tyson . . .”
“I’ll be there soon.”
“What’s going on?” Walker asked, stuffing his gear into his bag.
“Dane’s in trouble. He’s down at the station.”
Walker’s eyes clouded. “Is he okay?”
Tyson shook his head. “I don’t think so. He sounds like a mess.” Rightly so. “He took a no-holds-barred fight . . . his opponent didn’t make it out of the cage.” He refused to say Dane had killed someone. They didn’t know what had actually happened yet and he would be on his fighter’s side no matter what.
“Damn. I heard him say something about a fight tonight. I thought he was going to watch it, not compete.” He threw his bag over his shoulder as Tyson grabbed his motorcycle helmet and keys.
“Anyway, I have to get down there.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Are you sure, man? Don’t you have to go home to Grace?”
“I’ll call her on the way to the station.”
Tyson nodded, relieved at the offer. “Thanks, man.” He wasn’t sure he could deal with this alone, and Walker had dropped out of law school. He was the perfect guy in Dane’s corner that evening. Though Tyson wasn’t sure there was anything they could do for their fellow fighter.
* * *
The sound of her doorbell just after midnight wasn’t a surprise as Tyson had texted moments before to ask if he could come over. She hadn’t been sleeping. She’d been lying awake thinking about him anyway. It had been three days since she’d seen him. He hadn’t called or texted until now. He was pushing her away and she had no more fight in her. She’d chased him as far as she could go. If he didn’t want her, she had to accept that.
So she’d been surprised and conflicted when his name appeared on her cell phone that evening.
But his exhausted, defeated look when she opened the door told her she’d done the right thing letting him come over. Whatever was happening between them didn’t matter at that moment. He needed her. Reaching toward him, she hugged him.
His arms went around her and he rested his forehead against hers. They stood silent in her open doorway for a long moment, until a cool November wind blew across her bare feet. “Come in,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the kitchen. “Do you want something?”
He shook his head, reaching for her once more as he sat.
She sat on his lap and he kissed her bare shoulder. “So, how is Dane?” She’d seen the news about the unsanctioned fight and the tragedy on the late-night news just moments before Tyson had texted. She’d assumed him being here had something to do with it.
He didn’t seem surprised that she knew. “A complete mess,” he said quietly.
“So, he really did kill a guy in the octagon?”
He nodded.
Training for the role of a fighter, she never really understood the risks involved, the chances these guys took with their own lives or their opponents’ whenever they stepped inside the cage.
“It was a legal head kick. It was just one of those freak accidents.” He shook his head.
She kissed his forehead, wishing there was something she could do or say to help. “So, he’s not in any kind of trouble?”
“Walker says he will probably get a minimum sentence of three months for the unsanctioned fight . . . as long as they don’t find any drugs in his system.”
She pulled away and looked at him. “Will they?”
“I wish I knew for sure, but I’m not sure I even know my fighter anymore. Of all the dumb things . . .” His grip on her tightened. “Fucking Connor.”
“I know it’s easier to blame your brother for this, but Dane is a big boy. He made the wrong decision to compete by himself,” she said softly, hugging him closer. She couldn’t imagine the torment he must be battling at the moment—his fighter and friend in trouble and little he could do about it. And her heart ached for Dane, such a great guy—the last person on earth anyone would believe would be involved in this tragedy.
He buried his face against her, breathing deeply, his eyes closed. Then his hand slid below the edge of her tank top, sliding up her stomach slowly but with a determined desperation to cup her bare right breast.
She moaned when his thumb flicked across her nipple and she kissed the side of his head, his cheek, his lips.
Her gaze locked with his and in one quick motion, he stood and lifted her.
When he placed her on her bed moments later and they silently removed their clothing, her heart ached for him more than her body did. His fighters were like family to him. They were the only thing he cared about. Not being able to help one of them must be tearing him apart.
She lifted the bedsheet and he slid in next to her, moving close, his gaze locked with hers as he wrapped his arms tight around her. He kissed her gently, and the look in his eyes was one she didn’t recognize.
She kissed him again with more fervor than ever before, wanting him to know she was there for him, wanting him to take comfort in her.
He rolled them until his body hovered above hers. His forearms resting on either side of her head on the pillow. She ran her hands slowly down over his shoulders, along his strong, tattoo-covered arms and around the muscles in his back, holding his gorgeous body to hers. Clinging to it with a new desperation. He was so close, but she knew his heart was still out of reach and she struggled to find a way to convince him it would be safe with her. That he could trust her, let go of his insecurity about them together, and be with her—fully, unconditionally.
Moving away from her, his hands slid over her stomach, her ribs and over her breasts. She watched him as his gaze followed the path of his hands . . . and when it met her eyes once more, her breath caught.
This time was different.
This time he needed her more than he wanted her. The intensity of the look made her tremble and she reached for him again, drawing him closer, spreading her legs wider as he settled between them, his thick thighs pushing against hers.
He touched her face—the rough, callused, fighter hands a stark contrast to the soft, gentle caress. Then he trailed them the length of her body and gripped her hips as he thrust forward, his own hips pushing into her inner thighs as she raised her legs to wrap them around him.
He buried his head into her neck, kissing her, and shivers chased over her body. The need in his touch, in his kiss, in his gaze made her want to give him everything he couldn’t ask for. “Make love to me, Tyson,” she whispered.
His body froze for an instant and she thought maybe her words had broken the spell, but when he lifted his head to look at her, his gaze remained locked with hers. There was no more hiding his affection, his passion, or his love. She saw it all there in his expression as his body merged with hers and he entered her over and over, until she was clinging to him, as desperate for release as he was.
His body shook and her legs trembled around his waist, as they climaxed together in a wave of passion and ecstasy that only tormented thoughts and emotions could evoke.
Their labored breathing fell into a rhythm as he rested his forehead against hers.
“Is it okay if I stay here with you?” he asked, rolling off of her and drawing her into him, the pain in his voice tearing a hole through her, yet his words filling her heart.
“Of course,” she whispered as she softly kissed his lips.
And he did. Even when the sun’s first rays came through the window, he stayed.
* * *
Opening his eyes the next morning, Tyson experienced a moment of panic. Where the hell was he? Glancing around Parker’s bedroom, the familiar surroundings brought his heart rate back to normal and he turned to look at the woman lying next to him.
He’d never seen a woman first thing in the morning. She was still as perfect as the night before. Her blonde hair spilled across her pillow, and her exposed bare back beneath the edge of the sheet was soft and warm to the touch.
He couldn’t believe he’d stayed. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been thinking. He’d been feeling hopeless and depressed over Dane’s issues. He weighed his options. Stay and deal with what would without a doubt be an awkward situation. Or slip away, like an asshole who’d just used her, before she woke up.
