Part 11 (1/2)

”I hate that guy,” I told Liam. ”I mean it, Liam. If there were any other way around this I would tell Ciarn Crowley and his team of GAA hurlers to take a running jump out of the nearest window.” I hated Ciarn. I truly despised the guy. He'd been in our cla.s.s back in college and had struck up a friends.h.i.+p with Liam that had lasted long after we graduated. I, on the other hand, had only ever received cheap comments and come hither stares from the creep. Ugh. ”I don't care if he's your friend, Noah. I can't stand the guy.”

”Well there is no other way around this,” Liam hissed quietly, dragging me to the far corner of the gym, out of earshot of the few members that were working out this evening. ”We're sinking, Teagan,” he growled. ”Like f.u.c.king stones. This is the first new members.h.i.+p we've had in months.”

”We're hardly sinking like stones,” I muttered nervously.

”Hardly?” Liam raised his brow in disbelief. ”Are you kidding me? Teagan, we're in so much debt I'm seriously debating declaring myself bankrupt at twenty-five.”

”I can offer some extra cla.s.ses,” I offered, but Liam cut me off quickly.

”Some more Pilates?” he sneered. ”Or pregnancy yoga? Yeah, because that's sure to pay the creditors.”

”Excuse me?” I snapped. ”Don't be such a sn.o.b. I bring in good money with those cla.s.ses.”

”We need this, Teagan,” Liam told me in a serious tone. ”Thirty men, Teagan. Thirty. With a month's payment up front. We are depending on these guys and Ciarn is doing me a huge favor.” Reaching out, he clamped my lips between his thumb and forefinger. ”So keep that shut, and don't ruin this for us,” he told me with a smirk. ”Or we'll both be standing in the unemployment line by this time next month.”

”Well if he touches my a.s.s one more time, he will be depending on a life-support machine,” I countered, shuddering at the memory.

Liam laughed and that only made me angrier. ”Do you think it's funny?” I demanded, feeling wounded. ”That those men violate me daily in my own workplace?”

Liam's expression visibly softened. ”Come on, Teegs,” he said, ”You know it's only banter with those guys. I'll have a word with them tell them to stop.”

Checking the time on my watch, I saw that it was going on six. ”Don't bother, Liam. It's not like my personal safety matters to you. Here.” Slipping my hand into my bra, I tugged out the lone key and tossed it at him. ”You can close up.”

Not looking back when Liam repeatedly called out my name, I stalked through the main floor of the gym, through the double doors, down the old metal staircase to the entrance, and out into the Friday night bustle of Cork City.

Rain hammered down on me and I was glad. I needed to cool the h.e.l.l down and there was no way I could do that when Ciarn Crowley was in my close vicinity.

Pulling the hood of my raincoat over my hair, I popped my earplugs in and pumped up the volume on my iPod. Gliding my thumb across the screen, I quickly scrolled through songs, settling on Ben Howard's Oats in the Water before pounding the pavement.

I needed to run off some steam...

As I padded along, I mentally took stock of my life.

I was twenty-five years old and had my heart broken twice.

The first time had damaged my pride.

The second time had almost killed me.

It had taken me almost a decade to build myself back up from the brink of desolation and I still wasn't over the man that ruined my faith in all men.

It hurt. It was torturous. The pain was beyond f.u.c.king brutal and I promised myself to never allow a man to make me feel that way again.

I couldn't talk about him to anyone, not even now, seven years later. It was still too raw, and I swear to G.o.d his name sliced skin from my throat whenever I attempted it.

Shame filled me every time I thought about how I had almost thrown my future away for a boy who f.u.c.ked the school s.l.u.t the second my back was turned. I had lost my relations.h.i.+p with my uncle because of him. Max didn't want to know me, and on the last occasion I had reached out to him, he had cut me off the line and out of his life.

Permanently.

I had been out on a few casual dates with Liam. They had never progressed to anything more than dinner and a movie, but at least I had tried. If I was being totally honest with myself, the only reason I had accepted that date with Liam in the first place was because I had read that article where Noah talked about me being the biggest mistake of his life.

Ugh. He made so d.a.m.n angry... but as much as I tried, I couldn't shake him off.

I just couldn't seem to get over the b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

So I kept him a secret in the back of my heart, forced into my nighttime thinking capsule. At night was the only time I allowed myself to think of Noah because I had needs and he sated them like a f.u.c.king p.o.r.n-star.

My iPod switched onto Maroon 5's One More Night and I almost flung the b.l.o.o.d.y thing in the nearest wheelie bin.

That b.l.o.o.d.y song...

How pathetic was it that one song had my stomach twisting in knots and my nerves in tatters?

I knew why of course.

It was because of the fight.

He was fighting Horacio Vaughan for number one contender of the heavyweight t.i.tle this weekend in approximately one hour and thirty-eight minutes to be exact.

MY BACK WAS ACHING so bad I wasn't sure I how was going to sc.r.a.pe up the energy to climb out of the bathtub.

Those extra s.h.i.+fts I was pulling in the gym lately were really kicking my b.u.t.t. I knew I was overexerting myself, but Liam and I were up to our eyeb.a.l.l.s in debt. We were barely making the rent each month, and needed to bring in as much money as we could. As it stood, we weren't covering our overheads hadn't been for eight months. If things didn't start improving fast, the gym would go under.

Twisting the faucet with my toes, I stopped the flow of water and slowly pulled myself out of the tub. As I dried and dressed myself, I let my mind wander.

Tonight was huge for Noah's career.

If he defeated Vaughn, he would be granted a t.i.tle shot against the current holder, Anthony Cole, in Vegas in December.

Hope was out tonight with some friends she had met at a book seminar last summer, and I was glad. I couldn't watch Noah's fights when anyone was around because my emotions overwhelmed me.

When I was dressed, I grabbed my duvet off the bed, rushed into the lounge, and turned on channel 401 just in time for the main event of the night. Curling up on the couch, I covered myself with my blanket and held my breath, waiting to catch a glimpse of my ex boyfriend.

Horacio Vaughn was introduced first and I rolled my eyes in disgust when I heard him talk trash into the camera.

”c.o.c.ky much,” I growled in disgust. Vaughn would be lucky if he made it out of the cage walking. Noah was going to annihilate that douchebag.

There was silence for a moment and when Roy Jone's Can't be Touched sounded through the speakers of my television, the crowd erupted in cheers and high-pitched screams.

Noah came into view then and my toes curled up in antic.i.p.ation.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

The breath in my lungs evaporated in a sharp gasp.

The same as always, I found myself drinking Noah in. Soaking in his beauty. His raw masculine appeal and the way he captured every single person in the room's attention with his presence alone.

Noah had f.u.c.k me hair. He had honest to G.o.d, drag your nails through his scalp, mess up the sheets, f.u.c.k me now kind of hair. It was black and s.h.i.+ny with just enough length to grab onto when he was giving you the ride of your life.

His lips were the permanently swollen kind, like someone had just kissed the h.e.l.l out of them, and the scruff on his jaw only added to the appeal.