In Her Corner

“Hey, buddy.” A presence as oppressive as a storm front pushed into her personal space from behind. The hairs on Bella’s neck rose. “Is there a problem?”

The beefy-smelling man snatched up his beers and grumbled, “Dyke bitch,” as he shuffled off.

“We’re good here,” she ground out, keeping one eye on the man. “Just giving this creep his walking papers.” She challenged him with a level look when he turned and glared, but his eyes canted to her protector and he moved on.

“Were you planning on starting a bar fight here tonight? You don’t want to get banned before you’ve tried their shrimp po’boy sandwiches.” Kyle took the guy’s place next to her, staying close until the man made it back to his table.

“If he started something, I would’ve finished it.” She took a long pull of her beer to soothe her nerves.

“I don’t doubt it. But I’d hate to have to explain to your family why I had to bail you out of jail when you haven’t been here a week.”

“Sorry. But I won’t pretend to be nice to jackasses for the sake of being polite, especially ones who talk to me like I’m a dumb piece of meat.”

He chuckled. The sound was pleasant, even human. “I can see that. I think you made everyone in the room cup their balls.” His eyes shone with admiration and a bit of nervousness. “Do me a favor, and just say thanks for the rescue to salve my male ego.”

She studied him carefully. He must’ve had a few drinks in him because he seemed a lot more relaxed. His shoulders weren’t hunched up around his ears, and the lines on his face weren’t so deep. He was actually smiling. As he was now, she could sort of see why Marco had warned her against his lady-killer reputation. “Thanks.” She toasted him with her bottle. “I owe you one.”

He flagged down the bartender while she let her attention return to the match. She couldn’t concentrate on the commentary, hyperaware of Kyle’s elbow resting an inch from hers. She thought he was watching her, but she didn’t dare look. “What are you doing here?” she asked finally.

“Besides protecting your honor?” He paused and nodded toward a booth. “I’m here with...friends.”

She glanced at the table. Three petite coeds sipping cocktails with umbrellas in them chattered animatedly. Bella stifled a snort. “A little young, aren’t they?”

He smirked. “A gentleman doesn’t ask a lady her age.”

“You might want to, in case the cops come around asking for ID.”

His lips tilted in a half smile. “Jealous?”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t want to admit she’d been feeling kind of lonely since arriving in the States.

“Hey...do you want to join us?” Kyle asked as if reading her thoughts.

“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “I’m going to finish this and see where the fight goes, then head home.”

“If you change your mind...”

She waved him off. “Go on. The Powerpuff Girls need their juice.”

He gathered up the drinks in his big hands. “Stay out of trouble.”

“You, too, Coach. Don’t let them stay out past their curfew.”

He chuckled and went back to the table. Bella was in a better mood as she watched the rest of the fight.

She kept an inch of warm beer at the bottom of her bottle as the next fight started. She heard the girls with Kyle laughing and giggling. She didn’t want to watch them, but they were loud and boisterous, drawing envious looks from all corners of the bar. The girls hung on Kyle’s every word. The blonde looked especially into him, gazing doe-eyed at him.

The bartender put another open bottle in front of her.

She looked at him quizzically. “I didn’t order this.”

“It’s on the house. I liked the way you handled that jerk earlier. I’ve been looking for a reason to refuse him service and kick him out.” He crossed his thick arms over his barrel chest. “Sorry I didn’t step in fast enough.”

“No need to be sorry, Mr....?”

“Neal.” They shook hands, and he nodded vaguely over his shoulder. “I can see you’re really into the game.”

“Oh, I’m actually watching the fight.”

“I didn’t mean the Yankees game.” He inclined his chin toward the table. “I mean Kyle. Must be at least once a week he comes in with a date or picks up some chick and leaves with them. I’ve got my money on the one in the pink sweater tonight. You?”

Bella wasn’t sure why she felt such disappointment. She’d been warned about Kyle’s reputation, after all. “The blonde,” she said decisively. “Look at those puppy-dog eyes.”

He polished the counter top, chuckling. “I’ll be honest, when he came over here, I thought maybe you were a contender.”

“Oh, we know each other. He’s my wrestling coach.”

“No kidding? You’re training at Payette’s?”

“I’m working there while I train. Kind of like an exchange program.”

They chatted awhile about her background. Neal was more into boxing, but he seemed genuinely interested in her. Platonically, she was certain, if the wedding ring on his finger meant anything.

“Oh, damn.” Neal turned in time to see two of the girls get up from the table and hug their blonde counterpart goodbye. A couple of minutes later, Kyle and the blonde left. Bella’s gaze snagged his as he passed. He averted his eyes, almost shamefaced. “Looks like you were right.”

“What can I say?” She took a long pull of her second beer as the door swung shut. “She seemed his type.”

CHAPTER THREE

KYLE GULPED DOWN the extra large black coffee, head throbbing. He’d managed a few hours’ sleep, but ugh, why had he agreed to do shots of peach schnapps, of all things? He should have stuck to bourbon, but Penny—or Jenny or Patty or whatever the blonde’s name was—had said it was an old man’s drink.

He pushed into Payette’s and came face-to-face with Bella. She flashed blindingly white teeth. “Long night?”

“How late did you stay out?” he asked, deflecting her question. “I thought you said you were going home after you finished your drink.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to see the Chen-DaSilva fight.” Speculation reflected in her eyes, but she didn’t ask the question he saw there.

Not that he would have answered. His sex life wasn’t anyone’s business.

He changed in his office, downed two extrastrength Tylenol, then went over the schedule. The loud rapping on his door made his head throb.

“Hey, boss.” Wayne grinned, then winced, holding his jaw. “I’m back.”

Kyle acknowledged him with a wave. “How was the dentist?”

“Awful. I swear they were drilling into my brain. They put me on some pretty strong painkillers. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Sure you don’t need an extra day?” He’d fully expected the boxing coach to call in sick. Wayne was getting on in years, after all, even if he didn’t want to admit it.