was amazed he still had energy left. But I was feeling pretty proud of my own progress in the gym. I'd regained my lithe muscle tone and was feeling more confident to be out of the house. Less fragile and breakable.
The four of us ended up driving to the fight in Steele's vintage Impala. Archer was in the front passenger seat, a ball of nervous energy, while Kody kept creeping his hand up my skirt in the backseat. Not that I was complaining, much.
"Can you two fucking quit it?" Archer snapped as we neared the function center where his fight was being held. Kody had just managed to get his fingers under my panties, and I was making a piss-poor effort of getting him to stop. Okay, fine, I wasn't trying at all.
Kody just snickered a smug sound. "Don't be a hater just because you've got the bluest balls in the history of the world. When was the last time you got your fingers knuckle-deep in a pussy, anyway?"
Archer's ice-blue eyes met mine in the mirror, and my mind slapped me with the memory of Bree's party. The way he'd torn my panties off and—
"None of your fucking business, Kody," Archer snapped back, ripping his eyes away from mine. "It's bad enough that you three seem intent on giving the entire household a front row seat to your sexcapades. I don't fucking need it before my fight."
Steele snorted a laugh, his eyes on the road, and Archer shot him a scathing look.
"You got something to add, Steele?"
"Nah, bro." Steele just scrubbed a hand over his freshly shaved head before slapping his palm back down on the steering wheel. "Nothing at all." His eyes sparkled in the mirror, contradicting his statement, but I didn't call him on it. Archer was right, much as I hated to admit it. He really didn't need me and Kody fucking around in the backseat and getting him all worked up before his fight.
Especially after losing his televised debut.
I slapped Kody's hand away and gave him a glare to keep him on his side of the car, and he rolled his eyes. But still, he didn't push the issue, and no one spoke as Steele found us a parking spot and we all piled out to head inside.
Archer had gone through all the mandatory weigh-ins and press shit earlier in the day, but it had all been pretty minimal, as it was a minor fight for entertainment, not titles. Still, I was excited to see some real MMA again. The closest I'd come in the last few months had been Kody and Archer sparring in the gym at home, and while it was sexy as all hell—I was woman enough to admit that—it wasn't a real fight. Kody was training Archer, not actively trying to beat the shit out of him.
I wanted to see some blood fly.
Once inside, I hung back with Steele to let Kody and Archer do their thing. We still followed along and were given seats right beside the octagon, but for the most part, we just kept to the background and tried not to distract Archer. Easier said than done, though, when his tense stare kept drifting back to me. Or to the way Steele's hand rested on my hip or when he kissed my hair or how he whispered in my ear to explain who was who and what was what.
I was distracting him just by being there, and for once, I was annoyed at myself over it. I wanted to see a good fight, not a bloodbath because Archer was too distracted to focus on winning.
Kody seemed to be having an intense discussion with him, but Archer wasn't responding. His jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders bunched with tension under his thin hoodie, and his face tipped to the floor... but his eyes were still on me.
"Any chance you can have a chat with Arch?" Steele murmured in my ear, clearly noticing the same thing as I was. "He's been a bit off all week. Maybe you can help get his head back in the game."
I rolled my eyes and snorted a laugh. "You want me to piss him off, don't you?"
Steele gave me a shrug that said, If the shoe fits...
I sighed. "No guarantees. I might make things worse."
"Doubtful," Steele replied with a grimace.
"Fine," I grumbled, "but I accept no responsibility if this goes really wrong." Because I already had an idea about how to get his head straight,