it off and headed downstairs. I honestly didn’t care what Dickerson or anyone else thought about anything I did.
Opening the door before he knocked, I was anxious to get my eyes on him and see how he was after the match. Even though the rational part of me knew he wouldn’t have driven to my house if he was hurt, the emotional part of me needed to see that for myself. “How was your fight?”
He frowned. “Same as the last two times. Over in less than a minute. I didn’t even break a sweat during this match.”
I gestured for him to come inside. “You sound disappointed.”
He exhaled slowly. “I for damn sure don’t want to lose, but I’d like a challenge. I want to win, but I want to fight for it.”
“That makes sense.” I got the feeling he didn’t want to talk about it, so I changed the subject. “I’m guessing you want to shower and change?” At his nod, I asked another pertinent question. “Would you prefer a bath or a shower?”
He grinned devilishly. “Tell me you’re asking because you’ve got some kind of badass hot tub somewhere in this ritzy place.”
I chuckled. “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but yes, I was asking if you’d like to use my bathroom with the rainfall showerhead and multiple body sprayers or the jetted whirlpool bathtub in the guest suite?”
“How big is the tub?”
My lips twisted to the side while I tried to formulate a guess. “It could probably fit four or five people. I really don’t know.”
“Enough said. Show me to the shower, Sweet Sloane.”
“Not the choice I expected,” I mumbled and led him upstairs to my personal bathroom. My mother had it redone for my birthday the previous year. I didn’t know then that it would be the last birthday gift I received from my mother. And I was thrilled with the opportunity to show it off.
“Oh, I’ll definitely be choosing the hot tub. But I want to get something to eat before I enjoy a nice hot soak with your naked body plastered against mine.”
With that, he walked past me and entered the bathroom, whistling slowly as he took in the posh surroundings. “Gotta say, I was expecting pink and fluffy.”
“I should turn off the hot water while you’re showering for that.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be finished before the tank runs out of the water that’s already heated,” he said on just that side of arrogant.
He reached out and gently gripped my lower lip between his thumb and index finger. “Don’t pout, Sweet Sloane. It was a nice try. Oww!”
“Ahh!” I yelled at the same time and dropped my ass to the floor. With my foot cradled in my hands, I demanded, “What in the hell is wrong with your leg?”
He laughed and knelt down beside me, carefully replacing my hands with his. “This is what happens when a fairy kicks a giant with her tiny pixie feet. Little bones don’t like it when they collide with bigger bones.”
“Are you telling me my feet are too tiny to kick you?” I all but yelled as I struggled to control my anger and deal with the pain in my foot.
“Barefoot. I’m saying your feet are too tiny to kick things barefoot. You need shoes, preferably steel-toe boots or something similar, for protection,” he clarified and glanced up from my foot to study my face.
“Don’t even give me that look. It has nothing to do with you being a woman and me being a man and everything to do with physics. Now, quit trying to bicker with me, and let me see if it’s okay.”
“How are you going to know if it isn’t?” I asked and immediately felt compelled to clarify myself. “I didn’t mean for that to sound offensive. I really want to know how you’re going to determine if it’s okay.” I shrugged. “I guess I’m asking you to teach me.”
“I’m just going off of what I’ve learned through my experiences over the years. First, can you move it?”
I carefully rotated my ankle, which wasn’t sore at all, and slowly worked my way down to try wiggling my toes. “It hurts a little more when I move these two,” I said and pointed to the first two toes on my right foot.
“Guess we better call a toe truck,” Bronze said casually.
It took me a few seconds longer than I cared to admit to catch the joke. When I finally did, I playfully slapped his chest, causing him