Текст книги "Breaking a Legend"

Автор книги: Sarah Robinson

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 4

“I agreed to train him, didn’t I?” Rory responded to his mother, as the two of them and his father talked in the office of Legends.

“Yeah, that’s a start¸” his father said and grunted.

“Seamus, he can do a lot more than just that!” his mother exclaimed to her husband from where she was sitting at the desk, annoyed that he wasn’t backing her up.

“What do you want him to do, Dee? He can’t go back to fighting with his knee messed up,” Seamus insisted as Rory exhaled loudly, not enjoying being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room.

“He has a graduate degree in business! He can do anything with that!” she insisted, her hand resting on the canine head that was propped on her knees as the rest of the dog sat beside her.

“I’m standing right here, Ma.” Rory glared at Ace for betraying him by cuddling up with his mother when she was scolding him. The dog ignored him, enjoying the petting he was receiving.

“Well, then you tell me. What are you going to do, Rory?” Dee turned to him and Seamus put his hands up, trading a look with his son that said he was on his own.

“About what, Ma?”

“About your life. You spend all your time drinking or doing God knows what.” Her voice was forceful and stern.

“I don’t know. I will figure it out. I want to go back into business eventually. It’s not like I’m broke and living on the street. I still have enough money left over from my fighting days to buy this whole damn block if I want to,” he said in exasperation, trying to sidestep around his father to leave the office. He was beginning to feel trapped.

“When is ‘eventually,’ Rory?” Dee followed him.

“Dee, leave the boy alone. He’s training Kane, so he’s doing something.” His father tried to step in for him, but his mother was too anxious to be calmed.

“Exactly—I spent like six hours with him today!” Rory retorted, running his hands over his head, through his thick, wavy hair.

“Okay, but what about a hobby? Maybe working at a charity or something like that. Something to do with your days would be good,” his mother continued.

Rory kept a straight face at her statement, since no one in his family knew he was very involved with volunteering at the shelter he got Ace from. It was conversations just like this that made him like to keep his life private. He had had no desire in the last year to share his life with anyone, even his family.

“Dee, enough,” his father said, with more authority this time.

“Seamus, I’m just wor—” Dee started.

“I said enough, leave him alone. He’s twenty-seven years old; he can figure it out by himself.”

Rory’s mother crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed at both of them.

“Ma, I’ll be okay, I promise. I love you.” Rory stepped over to where she was sitting with Ace and leaned down to wrap her in a hug.

“I just worry about you, Rory.”

“I know, but did you see Quinn’s new haircut? That’s what you should be worried about.”

“What? But he has such beautiful hair! What did he do?” Dee squawked, standing up abruptly. Ace had to step back to avoid being trampled. It was easy to distract the stereotypical Irish mother with any news about her sons.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Dee went storming off into the club to find Quinn.

–

“It’s not that bad, Cian,” Clare told her boss as she stood behind him in the back office, watching him fix the bandage over his nose in the mirror.

“Oh, sure, and your martinis aren’t that bad, either,” he snapped back, gingerly reapplying some balm to his bruised flesh.

“Hey, I’m still in training!”

“For what? World’s worst bartender?” He turned and glared at her, one brow higher than the other. Clare grabbed her bag off the shelf and swung it over her shoulder.

“Hey, wait.” Cian motioned to her and then her bag. “You got anything in there for pain?”

“Sorry.” She shook her head, almost too vigorously.

“Nothing? Really? I thought women’s purses always had shit in them. I just need some ibuprofen or whatever.”

“I don’t like drugs, any kind. Would rather deal with a headache than take something for it,” she explained as he stared at her like she had a third eye. She just stared back, undaunted. After her history with Travis, there was no way she was letting drugs near her ever again. Plus, she kind of liked that Cian was in pain.

“Fucking women,” he muttered.

“I’m headed home. See you tomorrow,” she called on her way toward the back door of O’Leary’s Pub, secretly glad that the bandage on Cian’s face looked ridiculous.

She had wanted to ask him if he wouldn’t mind driving her home, but right now she would rather walk in the dark with potential muggers than ride with him. Everything that came out of that man’s mouth was offensive. She pulled her purse around her, peering inside to check on the small wad of cash from her tips that night.

It’s not like she could hail a cab; taxis stuck to the touristy areas, not the local residential neighborhoods. She muttered angrily to herself as she slammed her hands into the metal back door, opening it with a bang, and storming out into the alley.

She peered around nervously as the door creaked closed behind her, leaving her to blink rapidly in an attempt to adjust her eyes to the night. She hated the dark, hated not knowing what was around the corner. Moments like this made her think of Travis again, and a shiver of dread found its way down her spine.

It didn’t matter that she was sure he wouldn’t be able to track her all the way to New York; she still felt like she saw him in every shadow she passed. Pulling her purse tighter against her body, she hurried around the building until the alley dumped her out onto the sidewalk.

“Someone told me earlier that walking home this late at night isn’t the best idea for a woman.” A deep voice behind her split through the silence, causing her to jump.

Clare whirled around, her hand clutching at her chest.

“Holy hell!” she squeaked in surprise as her heart slowly dislodged from her throat to find its way back to her chest. Her skin broke out into goosebumps and her breath was nowhere to be found under Rory’s impenetrable, silver-gray stare. He had a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips above a strong, stubbled jaw, which gave him a powerful appearance, hard and unrelenting.

“ ‘Holy hell’? Kind of a contradictory phrase.” He raised one eyebrow as he stepped toward her on the sidewalk, holding a leash with Ace wagging his tail on the other end.

“What are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, clutching her purse a little tighter. She liked this man, but everyone seemed a bit threatening when they snuck up on you at one in the morning.

“Just walking Ace.” He held up the leash, but the smirk on his face gave him away, telling her that he had been waiting for her.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she retorted sarcastically.

“You don’t own Woodlawn, Clare. If anyone owns these streets, it’s my family.”

“So I hear: the infamous Kavanaghs,” Clare added an exaggerated lilt to her voice as she mentioned his family, before continuing her walk, strutting away from him.

Rory and Ace kept pace beside her, walking to her left to stay between her and the street. She sensed Rory’s protectiveness and wondered why he even cared enough to do something so small as to position himself between her and any oncoming cars. Her mind flashed back to a memory of when her ex-boyfriend had stepped behind her, using her as a shield.

She pushed the thought away quickly, unsure of why she would ever be comparing Rory to an ex in the first place. She had no plans to date him, or anyone, for that matter. However, the thought of hiking home alone in the Bronx at night was very unappealing, so she reluctantly accepted the company.

“You’re kind of obnoxious, you know that?” she teased him.

“You like it.”

“How would you know?” she challenged.

“Because you like me,” he said, sounding a little less confident than he had in his previous statement.

“You wish!” Clare snickered playfully.

In one quick motion, he grabbed her upper arm, holding her in place as he pressed her against the building they were passing. She found herself staring into his once bright silver eyes, now stormy and dark gray. His heart beat rapidly against her one free hand, which rested on his chest.

His sudden movement and fierce stare frightened her, yet did something else to her at the same time.

She felt a fire pulse through her core, a torrent of waves and confusion. His gaze was so intense. Instinctively, nervously, she bit her bottom lip. He staggered an exhale at the sight, a sensation she felt thundering against her body as it passed through him. He released her and took a step back, leaving her feeling both relieved and suddenly empty.

She was entirely unsure of what she wanted.

Or of what had just happened.

“Be careful, Clare. I’m not sure how safe you are in the dark when you push me like that.”

“I’m not scared of you.” She stepped away from him, farther up the sidewalk. Her mind was reeling—What the hell is happening? Her body was on fire and she wanted to still be pressed against him, which confused her even more. She barely knew this man, and she had reminded herself (again) that she had no desire to be in a relationship with anyone.

“Who said I want you to be scared of me?” His intensity from a moment ago lightened as he followed her, staying half a step behind her even though Ace was pulling on his leash to catch up to her.

“Isn’t that what all world-class, famous MMA fighters want? To intimidate people and show everyone that they’re big and bad?” Maybe that’s all it is, she thought. Maybe his effect on her, his intensity, all of it was just a side effect of being a fighter. It was just who he was; he didn’t really want her, and she definitely didn’t want him.

Keep telling yourself that.

“Someone’s been doing research on me.” She could hear the smugness in his voice as he spoke and it irked the hell out of her, but then she realized she had pretty much just admitted to Googling him. Thankfully, he didn’t know that her newfound friendship with Casey was actually her initial source of information, having only prompted her to do a little more digging on her own.

The man was a mystery, compelling and seemingly callous by turn, a mystery she was first introduced to when he had knocked her arrogant boss on his ass. But then he had that way of looking at her, invading her personal space without even taking a step toward her. Just his perfectly musky scent and hard body, as he stared back at her through silver eyes, was enough to overwhelm her senses, and it was all she could do to play it cool.

She attempted to sound indifferent. “Hard to move into this neighborhood and not find out who the Kavanaghs are, as you said earlier.”

“Care to share what your research told you?” he asked as the two crossed a side street, continuing toward her home.

“Why?” She found herself wondering again why he was even escorting her home in the first place. She knew it was implausible that he had just happened to be walking his dog past her place of work just as she was getting off.

“Humor me, Clare.” His tone had the ability to voice the lightness of humor at the same time as the intensity of a command, inciting a shiver to run down her back.

She didn’t hate it.

“Let’s see: Kavanagh Senior owns Legends, the famous mixed martial arts club where all his giant, extra-Y-chromosome sons have trained and where the famous Rory Kavanagh, once ranked top-ten fighter in the country, learned everything he knows.” She began putting up fingers on one hand as if she was starting a list, and doing her best to ignore his smug grin.

“I know your dad used to be a boxer and everyone is intimidated by him, maybe because he was Irish Mafia. And I know you like to drink, probably a little too much, since you reek of alcohol right now—which is coming from a bartender, by the way. Which means you were probably waiting for me and not just walking Ace in the middle of the night. So yeah, that’s what I know.” She realized that her rambling made her nerves more evident, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Irish Mafia and extra Y chromosomes? Wow, we must keep the Internet buzzing.” The amusement on his face was unmistakable.

“That’s what it says online.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to believe everything you read on the Internet, Clare?” He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him as they strolled.

She enjoyed this new level of lightheartedness between them, especially the warmth of feeling him against her again. He was grinning as she glanced sideways at him, but it wasn’t smug like it had been a few moments ago. It was easygoing and amused, a good look on him.

“But you are right,” he said a few moments later, his voice softer this time.

“About which thing? I’m right so often, you really need to narrow it down.” She smiled playfully, detaching herself and reaching down to pet Ace, who had glued himself to her side for most of the journey.

“That’s what I love about you, Clare.” He smiled. “You’re feisty. You have yet to let me have the last word.”

Clare said nothing in response, but inside her head was racing. He had just said love. She knew he wasn’t saying he was in love with her, but just hearing the word fall out of his mouth so easily sent shock waves through her.

She had stopped breathing, holding her breath as if waiting for him to say more. Silently chiding herself, she slowly exhaled. The unexpected excitement she felt was really not helping her resolve not to get involved romantically with anyone.

She had never had such a physical reaction to anyone before, especially a man, and never to anyone using that word. In fact, since her parents passed away when she was in high school, she hadn’t heard anyone say they loved her. She had dated Travis for years, but he had never said it once.

“I was trying to tell you, Clare, that you’re right about me wanting to walk you home. I wanted to see you again, and not with all my family around.”

She heard the smile in his voice as his tone turned slightly more alluring.

“I, uh, well…that’s, um…” Clare started her sentence a few times before giving up and going silent. All she could think was that he wanted to see her again.

And how she knew that she felt the same way.

“You really have a way with words.” He pulled her into a quick squeeze before releasing her.

She was instantly embarrassed that not only was she sure she sounded like an idiot, but also that she was wishing he would keep holding her.

“I can take care of myself, you know. I’m not looking to meet anyone right now.” She wanted to snatch the words back into her mouth the moment they left. While it was true, she didn’t actually want him to stop trying. She hoped he couldn’t tell what a mess of contradictions she was inside.

“I’m sure you can, since you’re taking Casey’s class. Who do you think taught her everything she knows?” He was ignoring the last part of her statement, thankfully. She peeked over at him to see if he was being serious, and quickly determined that he was.

“I guess that makes sense, since you’re like her older brother. What’s up with that, anyway? Cousins and siblings? Don’t tell me the Kavanaghs like to inbreed.” Clare teased him, but she really was curious as to why Casey so often called him both her brother and her cousin.

“No, Clare, we are all quite capable of mating outside of the family.”

Her mouth dried up as he said that. Damn it, Clare, pull yourself together. Repeat, I do not want to date Rory Kavanagh. I do not want to kiss Rory Kavanagh. I do not want to jump Rory Kavanagh.

Dammit, I at least want to jump Rory Kavanagh.

“I can see that, but there has to be some sort of story there.” Clare looked at Rory, hoping he would explain and say something that didn’t make her insides battle. Mostly, she hoped he couldn’t see her weakened resolve, as she was sure she was looking at him like he was dinner.

“Casey is my cousin, but she moved in with my family when she was very young. My aunt and uncle, along with her two older brothers, were killed in a house fire back in the early nineties. She was the only survivor, so my parents adopted her.”

“I had no idea—I’m so sorry.” Clare frowned, hurting for the spunky redhead she realized had a lot hidden below her bubbly surface.

She felt herself warming up to the mysterious family, proud of them for stepping up to take care of a young girl when she was left alone. She only wished someone had been there to do that for her. Maybe she wouldn’t have fallen into Travis’s unrelenting grip if she’d had some family member to rely on.

“It was a long time ago; we don’t talk about it much,” he confided, and she just nodded, getting the hint that she should drop the topic.

“This is my building,” Clare said after a moment, having come to a stop in front of a three-story brick apartment building. She felt strangely guilty that they had already arrived at her destination, as if she had just interrupted a moment between them.

His eyes softened and settled on her. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do now; it felt as if she was coming home from a date, even though she was sure that she was probably the only one thinking that.

And she didn’t even want to be thinking that.

“Keys,” he said, his tone firm but not commanding.

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. Rory reached out and motioned for her keys. Surprising herself, she slowly pulled them out of a pocket and dropped them into his waiting palm. He moved around where she stood fixated on him and opened the front door, motioning her inside.

“What are you doing?” She stood still on the sidewalk, refusing to budge as she put her hands on her hips.

She had just met this man a few days ago; the fact that he would dare invite himself into her home so easily was offensive. A knot grew in her stomach as her ex-boyfriend’s face came to mind. She was baffled as to what had possessed her to hand him her keys in the first place. She had never let her guard down so much around anyone before, not after all she had been through to teach her otherwise.

So why was she letting it down for Rory?

“Relax, Clare,” he said before her doubts got the better of her. “I’m just holding the door open for a beautiful woman. Always the gentleman, remember?”

Her stance relaxed and a flush crept up her cheeks. She felt a comfort that she wasn’t used to. Rory made her feel safe, something she barely remembered. There wasn’t a specific reason that could explain why, but rather something about him just felt different. She felt different.

“Oh. Okay, then. Well, good night.” As she awkwardly passed him, entering the apartment building, he handed her back her set of keys.

“Hey, Clare?” he called after her retreating figure.

She paused, turning to him, one eyebrow raised as she waited for him to say something. He let a moment of silence pass as he licked his bottom lip, watching her intensely. She felt a flutter in her stomach at the motion.

“I like that you’re not scared of me, mhuirnín.” Then he smiled and closed the door between them.

She blinked at the spot where he had just been, her mouth slightly open, as she tried to figure out what she was feeling. The tough-guy persona she normally saw had just cracked open before her and allowed her the quickest peek at the man inside. She felt like that stray dog on the side of the street, eager for any crumb that he would give her.

I do not want to date Rory Kavanagh.

She bit her lip as she turned and continued up the stairs, trying to remind herself that she had not moved to New York to jump into a relationship with anyone. After her ex-boyfriend, she didn’t think she ever could again. Definitely not anytime soon. At least that’s what she had thought until tonight, when the boundaries she had walled up around her began to blur.

I do not want to date Rory Kavanagh.

Chapter 5

“Rory, show him the leg lock. He’s all over the place,” Seamus ordered from the side of the ring where he and Ace were watching Rory and Kane square off, part of Kane’s training at Legends.

“He isn’t ready, Pop. He hasn’t got a simple mount perfected yet,” Rory responded, trying to ignore his father.

He knew his father had been a famous boxer and had valuable insight, but his expectations for his sons had always been too high. Rory hadn’t even wanted to train Kane or be back at Legends in the first place, but if he was going to do this, he damn sure wasn’t about to take directions when he was the only one in the room who was a world-class expert in it.

“What the hell do you mean I’m not ready? The mount doesn’t have to be fucking perfect, Rory. Shit, I’ve been mounting things since I was fifteen behind the bleachers at school.” Kane needled him further.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Kane. Everything is a damn joke to you. If you want to be the best, it has to be perfect.” Rory dropped his hands and glared at his brother, not hiding his irritation.

Seamus interrupted them. “Just show him the leg lock; you can go back to the mount later.”

“Pop, seriously? Would you rather train him?” Rory marched over to the side of the ring, approaching his father.

Seamus sighed. “Damn, kid, do you always have to be in charge?”

“Fine, you be in charge.” Rory yanked the wraps off his hands and wrists, dropping them onto the ring floor, and then climbed out.

Sliding past his father, Rory decided he was done for the day. He really couldn’t stand being told what to do, and he didn’t even want to be back in a ring.

He heard Kane calling after him, but tuned it out entirely. Reaching the front door of the club, he punched it hard, almost knocking it off its hinges when it flew open. He paused for a second and grabbed the door, keeping it open a second longer to make sure it didn’t hit Ace, who was close on his heels.

He needed out of there. It was time for a change.

–

Rory left Legends and headed home, his only thought on the pain radiating up his leg. He had forgotten to bring pills with him to the gym, so he was glad to be headed home early since his knee was throbbing from several hours of working out with Kane.

His fists were also aching from nearly breaking the door, but he enjoyed that feeling. He loved the pain he felt in his hands from destroying something, although normally he preferred it being someone’s face instead of a metal door. He couldn’t change that he was a fighter to his very core.

His apartment was off East 235th Street, still in the Woodlawn neighborhood of the Bronx and only a few short blocks away, but the trek seemed to be taking forever as he cringed with each step. The more he concentrated on the pain, the worse his knee felt. Relief washed through him as he saw O’Hara’s Liquor coming up on the right. Checking his watch, he saw it was almost ten in the morning, so the store was probably open.

“Rory, first customer of the morning! And Ace, hi, boy. The usual?” Charlie O’Hara surveyed his best customer from behind the counter and pulled a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind him.

“Yep, thanks, Charlie.” Rory pulled his wallet out of his pocket, separating out a few bills and handing them over.

“Anytime, Rory. How’s the leg feeling?” Charlie asked as he leaned over the counter to smile at Ace, the same pity on his face that Rory had always hated seeing anytime someone mentioned his injury.

“Same as always.” He held up the whiskey bottle, indicating the state of his knee. Charlie just nodded as Rory left with the whiskey in a brown paper bag.

Rory continued home, but twisted off the top of the bottle and held it up to his lips. The burning liquid slid down his throat and the brown paper bag rustled from the movement. He screwed the cap back on, enjoying the warm sensation in his stomach that he knew would soon distract him from the pain in his leg.

Rory and Ace entered his apartment and Rory headed straight to his nightstand, pulling out three miraculous white pills and swallowing them. He chased them with several more swigs of whiskey, then plopped onto the bed face-first, bottle still in his hand. He closed his eyes, savoring the numbing feeling as he drifted off to sleep.

–

Rory grunted in pain as he lifted his head off the bed. He sat up and noticed the bottle of whiskey lying on his bed; it was almost entirely empty, except for a few sips at the bottom. He vaguely remembered waking up a few times during his nap to use the bathroom and get some food, drinking more and more each time. Figuring he shouldn’t waste good liquor, he unscrewed the top and finished it off as he stood, stepped over his sleeping dog, and pulled open the curtains in his bedroom.

He instantly regretted it. The bright sunshine smashed against his face, blinding him and reminding him that the world had kept turning despite his angry mood. Stepping back, he tossed the bottle into a nearby trash can and swayed over to his large walk-in closet. He stripped, pulling on a fresh pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, then headed to his home gym on the opposite side of his apartment.

About a year ago, he had purchased the other three apartments on the top floor of the four-story walk-up. Knocking down several walls, he had transformed it into one large penthouse with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a den, an office, and a gym, plus the usual kitchen, living room, and dining room. While he might not be a professional fighter anymore, he still enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle, thanks to the money he had earned during his career.

The gym was his favorite part of the renovation, having been equipped specifically with weights, machines, and other training equipment per his physical therapist’s instructions. He didn’t use it often since he was at Legends so much, but today he was itching to hit the punching bag alone.

With every step he took since waking up, he could feel the pulse in his leg like a serrated knife sliding back and forth slowly against his calf muscle. Grinding his teeth, he pushed through it for several hours as he punished the bag with his fists, forcing away the fog that had fallen over him after drinking so much.

With everything he had in him, he tried to delay taking more pills to dull the ache that was turning into full-blown thunder slamming through his body, but the hours began to wear on him. He tried distracting himself by taking Ace out on a few walks around the neighborhood, but he couldn’t pull his mind away from what he really wanted.

By the evening, Rory resorted to a few pills with a couple bottles of beer that he found hiding in the back of his fridge. When all was said and done, he opened his curtains again to find that it was pitch black outside except for a few streetlights illuminating the road.

Rory turned the clock on his nightstand to face him and frowned. It was almost midnight. Clare would be getting off work soon. He headed into his bathroom and brushed his teeth, then pulled off his gym clothes and hopped into the shower.

Twenty minutes later, Rory was clean and in fresh clothes, pushing out the front door with Ace to escort Clare home for the second night in a row. As he filed alongside his canine best friend, he became more and more excited about seeing Clare. He hadn’t told her that he would be there again, but he was pretty sure she would be happy to see him.

At least he hoped she would.

Arriving in front of O’Leary’s a few minutes before one in the morning, he leaned against a light post to wait for Clare, Ace dutifully sitting next to him as if he already knew the drill. He briefly considered going in, but then remembered that Jimmy had warned him not to go anywhere near Cian after he had just punched him. He snickered to himself at the memory, glad to have wiped that smug sneer off the bartender’s face.

“What are you smiling at?” Clare’s soft voice broke through his thoughts.

“Just thinking of your gorgeous face, mhuirnín.” He tried to convince her with his most charming smile as she rounded the corner.

He met her halfway and slid his hand around her waist, giving her a quick squeeze as he pulled her closer to him. She shivered at his touch, sending a heat wave through his body as he contemplated just cupping her chin in his hand and kissing her right then and there.

“Liar, what were you really smiling at?” She pulled away from him and began walking, making him catch up to her.

“All right, I was thinking about punching your boss,” he admitted.

Clare’s head snapped around, her eyes searching his face to see if he was serious. When she realized he was, she giggled and smacked his arm lightly.

“I wouldn’t even mind anymore. He is so frustrating to work for.”

“I don’t doubt it; he seems like the type. Casey used to complain all the time about working for him, when she was younger.”

“What are you doing here again, anyway?” Clare abruptly changed the subject.

“Good to see you, too,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m serious. I am capable of walking myself home, you know.”

“In the middle of the night? In Woodlawn? I don’t think so, Clare. Not as long as you’re with me.” He responded so quickly that he hadn’t really thought through what he had just said, realizing it only when Clare blinked in surprise.

“I’m with you?” she said, slowly repeating his words back to him.

“Well, you are right now, aren’t you? Or am I dreaming this?” He grinned, hoping he could play off his forward statement with a joke.

“The best dream of your life.”

He knew that she was letting him off the hook. “Don’t I know it. But I’m not just here to walk you home.”

Clare raised one brow, questioning.

“I want to show you something—it’s a surprise. Only a slight detour from where you live.”

“You want me to go with a strange man somewhere I don’t know in the middle of the night? Isn’t that the kind of thing you’re supposed to be helping me stay away from?” she teased.

“Maybe, if I was a stranger.” He found himself instantly frustrated at her statement although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, except that he didn’t want her to think of him as a stranger, ever.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to have that, he stopped in his tracks and turned to her abruptly. Ace nearly collided with his legs, but Rory paid him no mind. Grabbing her elbow, Rory stepped toward her, forcing her to step back until she was met with the brick wall of a building. Trapping her on the sidewalk, he placed one arm on either side of her against the building, a position he knew affected her as much as it affected him.