THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,167

grin. “Calling it an early date night already? You must know this guy is going to be as fun as a puddle of mud. Anyone with any kind of skill could keep you out until at least eleven.”

She scoffs. Reaching a tiny hand out she adjusts the sleeve of my t-shirt that folded up my bicep. It’s a problem. What can I say? I have too much muscle and not enough shirt. Her fingers linger on my arm as she slides them under the seam. “I’m not just any woman. It takes a lot to keep me entertained.” Her gray cat eyes flick up to meet mine. What the fuck was that? My dick is confused.

I shift uncomfortably. “There’s such a thing as too much. Never bite off more than you can chew.” Her hand falls away as she takes a step away from me. I go on. “I’m sure you won’t have a problem with that tonight, though. You told me what time you’ll be home. Do you want me to be here then?” I read between the lines better than anyone I know.

Morganna runs a hand through her hair and brings the strands around to rest on one shoulder. I’m almost sure she’s going to say yes. That’s the only reason she mentioned a time. As the most punctual person I know, time means a lot to her.

“No. I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when I get home from my date with Alex.” I hate him even more now that he has a name. Alex. It sounds like an STD. I caught a nasty case of Alex. See?

Raising my brow I say, “No? Better make sure the security cameras are rolling.” I had plans tonight anyways. The boxing gym called to see if I could fight a new guy to determine his skill level. Those phone calls are always my favorite. Now I’ll have to play stalker later tonight, because what type of person would I be if I just left her to a date without checking once?

She walks over to the huge windows that overlook the water, and perches her hands on her curvy hips. I watch her take a few deep breaths before she speaks. “It’s just a date. I’ll be fine.”

I agree by grunting, but then she starts droning on and on about Alex. How he’s a musician who gives guitar lessons to children in his spare time—convincing herself of his worthiness. She tells me they talk on the phone and he seems kind and interesting, and just so effortlessly perfect. She waxes poetic about how he’s so different.

I know what she really means. He’s not Stone. Try as I might I’ll never not be Stone. It’s twisted, but it’s true. Down to my very core we’re the same, Stone and I. All of my brothers are. I would have thrown myself on a grenade for any one of my teammates without hesitation. Maybe an incense-burning hippie like STD Alex is exactly what Morganna needs.

Or maybe he’s fucking not.

_______________

I watch sweat slide off the side of his face the second my glove connects with his hollowed out cheek. Point. We’ve been in the ring for about thirty minutes and we both have a good sweat going. I drove by the café Morganna was at on my way here. Just to be on the safe side, you know? It was crowded—a good sign. Coffee only. No sign of coitus.

The dude I’m sparring with has a mean left uppercut, but he’s slower than I am. Too slow. My opponent landed a few hard body shots that will probably leave bruises. That’s it though. I got a decent workout dodging circles around him. Coach slams his hand on the old, rusty bell. Huffing out a breath, half-spit, half-air, I start collecting as much oxygen as I can.

“Good round, man. Finished?” I ask, talking in his direction. He’s hunched over catching his own breath, arms resting on his thighs. Too proud to respond verbally, he nods and walks away. Can’t say I blame him. I’d feel the same way right now. I racked up some serious points on him.

“Yo, buddy. You have some aggression to work out tonight?” Coach Sloane quips, his Jersey accent permeating the heavy, hot air. I smirk. He’s a retired SEAL. He opened the gym as a way to take out his aggression by sport. I can respect that. His gym, No Easy Day, is my second home when I’m not away. It gives me