Battered Not Broken Read Online Free PDF Page B

remember him moving in the ring, his body a mass of muscles that exuded strength – except for those brief moments when he’d seemed to falter.
    Her stomach did a funny little twist when she remembered him slowing in the ring and then bracing himself against the outside wall of the gym later that night. But he seemed fine as she rounded the bag, careful to stay far enough away that she wouldn’t be in range of any flying elbows or fists.
    She’d just stepped past him when she cast a glance over her shoulder, a twinge of curiosity reminding her of the sprawling design inked across the canvas of his back and the words she’d never been close enough to make out.
    It wasn’t his back that she glimpsed as she moved forward, but his face.
    He’d turned to face her, filling the field of her vision with his bare torso instead of his back, plus his full lips, a nose with a tiny bead of sweat shining at the tip and of course, blue eyes. “Nice kicks,” he said without preamble.
    She’d intended to keep walking after a quick look, but her sneakers might as well have been frozen to the concrete floor. “Thanks. I needed the practice – I telegraphed a kick on Saturday night and lost the match because of it.” The words just sort of spilled out, a confession she might have been better off keeping to herself. After all, he hadn’t been in the audience on Saturday.
    She’d half expected him to be. Admission into the fights was free for any Knockout member, and she’d watched him compete the night before. And then he’d asked her on a date. An irrational sense of disappointment had plagued her for just a moment when she’d stepped into the ring and looked out into a crowd that hadn’t included him.
    “I heard about it,” he said. “Wish I could’ve been there Saturday night, but I couldn’t make it.”
    In a moment of annoyance sparked by his having already heard about her loss, it was impossible not remember his words from Friday night, when he’d said that all his nights were free. Apparently, not the night of her fights. Her thoughts took a surprisingly covetous turn, presenting her with images of him approaching another female member of Friday night’s audience – one who probably would have snapped up his dinner invitation in a heartbeat.
    Maybe she would have too, if the past wasn’t always in the back of her mind. Either way, she squashed the thread of curiosity before it could burst into full-blown jealousy. “Maybe next time.”
    In the wake of suppressed envy, another thought struck her – what if he hadn’t attended because something had been wrong? What, exactly, she had no idea. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him slowing in the ring and then bracing himself against the building the night before her fights.
    “Do you fight every weekend?”
    She shook her head. “Cameron only hosts women’s events every other Saturday. But I participate in all of those.”
    His eyes were bright as he looked down at her – he had to have at least six inches on her 5’5” frame. “I’ll be there next time.”
    She hadn’t forgotten what he’d said to her when she’d promised to attend his fight, or the suggestive smile he’d worn then. For half a moment, a wicked impulse nearly seized her, tempting her to make a similar remark.
    The urge faded as a current of excitement swept through her at the idea of him shouting her name, watching her every movement, even if it was just at a competition. “We’ll see,” was all she said, then she was outside, her cheeks being cooled by a cold gust of wind that whistled down the street and past the gym doors.
     

 
 
 
Chapter 3
 
    The atmosphere at Annalisa’s was casual, the food good but not great, other than the chicken parmesan, which was oddly amazing – the one stand-out item on the dinner menu. More importantly, Annalisa’s was within walking distance of the house and the fact that Melissa would be working there that night guaranteed a warm