Confessions of a Bad Boy Fighter (Bad Boy Confessions) Page 5

  “Work is overrated.”

  “Maybe, but I need this job.”

  I ease out of her, never wanting to do anything to jeopardize her job or her career. Which means I really shouldn’t have acted on my urges and taken her here on her desk. But fuck, when it comes to her I have absolutely no control. For a while there I considered moving back to Seattle after my last fight, but how could I? How could I be so close to her, and not have her in my bed, my life?

  5

  Katherine

  For the last few days, I’ve been sneaking around with Harding, meeting him at lunch and falling into his bed after work. It’s so weird that I’ve been lying to my parents about my whereabouts. I’m an adult for Christ’s sake, and I can date whoever I want. Date? Well, technically we’re not dating. We’re having sex until he leaves for his fight in New York. Still, maybe I should take Sara up on her offer and move in with her, gain the independence and freedom I’m beginning to believe I desperately need.

  I take a sip of my latte and look at the handsome man across from me. I’m not the only one noticing him. We’ve been meeting at the coffee shop every lunch hour and there isn’t a girl in the place that can seem to keep their eyes off him—not that I can blame them. I’m sitting across from him and can’t stop staring either. I scan the room and when I see a pretty blonde trying to get Harding’s attention, a knot tightens in my gut. I hate the idea of him with anyone else. But he’s not mine, and I have no claim to him.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I knew I was getting in too deep, that spending time with him would gut me when he upped and left at the end of the week. Cripes, I never should have gone to that fight, never should have agreed to visit him back stage. But I did, and now I’m going to be left with a broken heart when he leaves. But what if he didn’t leave? What if he set up his life here? What if I went with him? Then again, there’s no guarantee he’d want to continue on with our relationship. Sure he said he wanted me, but that was just sexually, right?

  “Have you ever wanted to do anything else with your life?” I ask as I set my cup back down.

  “Like what?”

  I examine his big hands, the scars running along his fingers. Yes, he was built to fight but there is so much more to this man. If only he could see it. “I don’t know. What do you enjoy?”

  “Fighting and sex,” he teases, and I frown. I want him to be serious, but whenever it comes to his future he always jokes about it. Why does he do that?

  Our knees bump beneath the table and it sends ribbons of heat through me. I clear my throat. “What about going back to school?”

  He takes a sip of coffee and looks at me over the rim of the mug. “I never was much of a student.”

  “I thought you were a great student, Harding. You were always smart, you just didn’t have anyone believing in you.”

  He sets his cup down. The muscles along his jaw ripple and I swallow against the tightness in my throat. Damn, the last thing I wanted to do was to dredge up painful memories of his youth.

  “I always believed in you, Harding,” I say quickly, and reach out to put my hand over his. “I think you could be whatever you wanted.”

  He slowly lifts his head, and intense blue eyes meet mine. “Are you trying to change me, Addy?”

  I pull my hand back quickly and frown. Damn this just isn’t coming out right. “No. I just…It’s not that.” I shake my head. “I…”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s just that, you’re so smart. You could do or be anything you wanted.”

  He squares his shoulder, and I’m sure I hit a nerve. His brows knit together. “You don’t like who I am?”

  The truth is I like him so much I’m sitting here thinking about how to keep this relationship going when he’s gone. Thinking about how I can try to make it work, and that maybe I could put my career on hold, travel with him. I swore to God, I would never be a fighter’s girl, go on the road, but yet here I am considering just that. But what does he want? He’s never talked about long term, and certainly didn’t invite me to his next fight in New York. I can only imagine what my father would say if he knew where my thoughts were going.

  “I…” I open my mouth to confess everything, to tell him exactly how much I like him, how I want to keep on seeing him, but the bell over the door jingles and the familiar man walking inside has my words catching in my throat.

  I shut my mouth and Harding turns to see what, or who, has caught my attention. My father walks up to my table, and his eyes lock with mine.

  “Katherine,” he says, and taps the table, a familiar habit when he’s worried about something.

  “Dad.” My heart leaps. Is something wrong? He’s never come to meet me here before. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Is Mom okay?”

  “I just haven’t seen much of you.” His gaze goes from me, to Harding, back to me again, like he’s dismissing the man seated across from me. “Was wondering what you’ve been up to. But now I see.”

  I suddenly feel angry, very, very angry. I love that he cares about me, but my gut is telling me he’s checking up on me. God forbid I do anything to make him, or myself, look bad in the public’s eye. How many times have I heard about political suicide growing up? Yeah, I’ve been keeping Harding a secret and I’m pissed off at myself for it. I can just imagine how Harding feels about my behavior. He basically just asked me if I was trying to change him. The truth is he doesn’t need to change. He’s perfect just the way he is and if he wants to keep fighting, I’ll have to find a way to deal with the sight of his blood. I would never ask him to be something he wasn’t. In fact, I’m willing to change for him.

  “I’ve been…” I stop and look at Harding who is watching me carefully. I’m about to say ‘seeing Harding’, when my father turns to him.

  “You’re Harding King, are you not?”

  Harding nods. “I’m surprised you remember me.”

  Harding holds his hand out to my father, yet my father does nothing. My blood boils as I watch my father—the mayor—completely dismiss Harding in front of me. In front of everyone in the coffee shop.

  “Yes, well, there’s very little I forget.” My father turns to me. “Katherine, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me, I have some things I’d like to discuss with you, some things you need to be reminded of. Plus, Oliver has been asking about you.”

  “Oliver?” Harding asks and cocks his head to the side as he looks back at me.

  “My associate,” my father says before I can explain. “Katherine and Oliver are practically engaged.”

  I open my mouth, but I’m so enraged, I can’t get the words out. How dare my father treat Harding like this, tell him I’m practically engaged when I’m not. Harding is a good man—kind, caring, full of integrity—yet my father can’t see past his own judgments, see the boy from the wrong side of the tracks for the amazing man he is. Harding does not deserve to be treated like this. I’m going in to politics to help people, all people. To me it’s not about the prestige, the power, thinking I’m better than anyone else. It’s about being there to create a unified world, not an elitist one. If people have a problem with Harding and me, its their problem not mine. I was wrong to think otherwise.

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “I’m with Harding, and we haven’t finished our coffee.”

  “It’s okay, Katherine,” Harding says, and my heart drops into my stomach when he uses my first name. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, and you clearly have obligations, and things to be reminded of.”

  With that he stands and turns his back to me, disappearing through the coffee shop door, and from my life in the blink of an eye.

  6

  Harding

  I stand in the ring and the big fucker facing off against me—Mad Man Marshall—is dancing in his corner as the crowd goes crazy. But all I can think about is how the last few days have been shit. Total and utter shit, and I miss Adeline like fuck. I can barely function, barely get out of bed, let alo
ne raise my fists and win this championship fight. Truthfully, without her in my life, the fight has gone out of me.

  What’s the fucking point?

  I catch Bray’s eye and he’s glaring at me. I get it. He’s telling me to get my mind in the game. The money from the win will go a long way for the two of us, help us get on with our future—whatever that might be. But what’s a future without Addy in it?

  The bell rings and Mad Man comes at me swinging. What really sucks, is I could win this fight, if my mind was in it. I dodge a few hits, and work to keep my focus in the present and off sweet Adeline, and my last words to her. My gut clenches as I remember her face, the sadness in her eyes when I walked away.

  She was sad when I walked away.

  I go over the events in the coffee shop and how Adeline stood up for me. But the fact that I never wanted to do anything to hurt her or her career was the reason I graciously bowed out and left, instead of standing up to her father myself. But was leaving the right thing to do? Should I have stayed and fought for her? I thought she could never be with a guy like me. A fighter. A nobody. Someone who could never be good enough for her, her family. But deep down I know she’s not like that. Unlike her father, she doesn’t judge. Yeah, we were sneaking around to avoid scandal, but when push came to shove, she was unashamed, unapologetic. She’s the sweetest kindest girl I know, and she wanted to go into politics because she cares about people.

  She cares about me.

  My opponent gets a good punch in, and I fly backward against the net. Some girl in the audience is screaming my name and it makes me think of Addy that night she came to my fight, and how much she hates what I do—not because it’s beneath her, but because she doesn’t want to see me hurt. My heart squeezes with all the things I feel for her.

  I go over our week together, our time in bed, and our conversations. When she asked me about my life—if there was anything else I wanted to do with it—I think now it was less about me changing for her and her believing in me. No one has ever really believed in me before.

  My opponent comes at me again, and my heart races, not because he’s swinging punches, but because I suddenly need to get back to Seattle. Right now. I need to see Addy. Set thing right between us. I just pray to fucking God that it’s not too late, that I haven’t made a total mess of everything.

  Mad Man swings and I duck, but now I’m just pissed off and I want this fight to be done and over with so I can be the man Addy always believed in. I catch Bray’s eye and he grins, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking and he gives me a nod. My opponent comes at me again and I land two hard punches. He goes down and the crowd goes crazy when I jump on him and finish the fight. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I jump to my feet and raise my hands.

  I’m a fucking fighter, and now it’s time to fight for what I really want.

  7

  Katherine

  My heels click on the polished floor as I make my way to the classroom, the school year—my senior year—just beginning. It’s been over a week since I last set eyes on Harding, and I’m still reeling inside. I can’t believe he’s gone, that he just up and left so easily. I was beginning to think there could be more between us, that we could possibly have a future together. I guess Dad sealed that fate when he brought up Oliver and treated Harding like a lower class citizen.

  I step up to the classroom, and stand outside the door for a moment as students shuffle past me. I take a few breaths and gather myself, but how can I possibly stand at that desk—a desk Harding took me on—and lecture? Tears prick my eyes and I blink them back. God, I never should have allowed myself to get in so deep with him. It was sex, nothing more, nothing less, and I would have been wise to remember that. But no, I let my emotions get involved. Honest to God, how could I not? Harding is an amazing man, and what he does for a living doesn’t define him as a person. When it comes right down to it, he’s a better man than my father, because no way in hell would he treat anyone badly or disrespectfully.

  My phone pings and I pull it from my pocket. My heart gives a little start, hoping it’s Harding, but he’s not contacted me since he left. I’d considered dragging Sara to New York with me to see his fight, and to fight for him, but from the way he left that day in the coffee shop, not even giving me a last look goodbye, I know it’s over. Going to his fight would only lead to embarrassment and heartache, especially if he stood in the ring and pointed to some other girl. My stomach cramps at that thought.

  I slide my hand across the screen, to read Sara’s message. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to class,” I text back.

  “Looks to me more like you’re standing there, thinking about Harding.”

  I turn and find Sara walking toward me. I stuff my phone back into my pocket. “Hey,” I say.

  She hikes her bag up higher on her shoulder. “You need to call him.”

  “I can’t. It’s over, Sara.” Wanting to talk about something else, and not rehash this conversation again and again, I ask, “How’s Bray?”

  A wide grin splits her mouth and I’m happy that she’s happy. The two have been texting non-stop and I really think a relationship is forming. “He’s great. I’m going to see him tonight.”

  My mouth drops open. “He’s back? In Seattle?”

  She nods. “Harding isn’t fighting anymore, so Bray’s back in the city, and he’s going back to being a first responder.”

  My heart misses a beat as worry bombards me. “Why isn’t Harding fighting?” God, I hope it isn’t something I said. Yes, I asked if he wanted to do anything else with his life, but if he wants to fight, he should fight.

  “He retired,” she says, and she’s giving me a look that says she knows something I don’t.

  I glare at her. “What’s going on?”

  She shrugs. “Why don’t we discuss it tonight over a carton of Ben and Jerry’s?”

  I eye her for a minute. I know that look. She’s up to something. “Fine,” I say. “You’re buying.” I pull my laptop bag close, and she gives me a hug, but instead of leaving, she stands there watching me. Maybe she’s worried about me. Since I moved into her spare room, she’s been hovering close. Sara is a good friend and I’m lucky I have her.

  I take a huge breath, walk into the classroom, and step up to the desk. I set my books down and wave Sara away. “I got this,” I mouth to her, but she still isn’t moving. What the hell?

  I work to ignore her and turn toward the students. I give the room a quick scan and glance down at the roll call in front of me.

  “Welcome, to Poly Sci 101,” I say. “Please say ‘here’ when I call your name.” I make my way through the list, trying to keep my mind off all the naughty, delicious things I did with Harding on this desk, but when I reach the letter ‘K’ my heart jumps into my throat.

  I glance up, and from the back of the classroom I find Harding sitting there, a grin on his handsome face. “I…uh…” I stumble.

  “Here,” he says.

  I shoot a glance toward the door and Sara gives a little finger wave. Ohmigod, she knew about this and didn’t tell me. I’m going to kill her, and I’m going to kill Harding.

  I look back at Harding. What the hell is he doing here? He must be registered as a student if his name is on the list, but why would he do this? He said he never was much of a student so why would he sigh up—for political science 101, at that?

  I recover as fast as I can and finish going through the list. I reach the end, and it takes every ounce of strength I have to continue on with the course outline, the assignments, due dates, etc. The clock seems to have stopped as I wait for the hour to end, and I can’t help myself from stealing glances at Harding. I’m not the only one, either. Many of the girls in the class are admiring him, but he doesn’t seem to notice them. No, his attention is on me and me alone. I can’t help but feel a little thrill, but I tamp it down. I don’t want to get too excited. Maybe this is all a coincidence.

  I glance at him again and
his grin is mischievous, like he’s enjoying this whole awkward situation. Well, two can play his game. As the students read through the outline, I push from the desk and grab the chalkboard pointer. I slap it against my hand, and I’m sure I heard a groan come from the back of the class. I continue to slap it on my hand, and answer questions from the students, and then finally—finally—the bell chimes to indicate the end of class.

  The students are about to stand when I say, “Harding, can you please stay for a moment. There is this matter of you being my student that we need to discuss.”

  Gazes dart from me to Harding back to me again, but no one questions me. In fact, they all look torward to Harding, fearing he’s in some kind of trouble as they all file out. My shoes click as I follow them to the door, shut it, and set the lock. I turn back to Harding, who is lounging casually in his seat, his long legs spread out before him, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, my heart racing. Is it possible that he’s simply going back to school, or did he sign up for my class on purpose…because he might want…?

  I let my thoughts trail off, too afraid to hope.

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “Why are you here? In my classroom?”

  “What, a guy can’t go back to college, earn himself a degree?” His eyes narrow, all humor gone from his face when he adds, “Become the man his girl needs him to be.” He stands and my legs go wobbly as he closes the distance between us. He backs me up against the door, and pulls the shade.

  Is he saying I’m his girl?

  “Harding…” I begin, needing to get to the bottom of the matter.

  “Adeline, it’s like this. I’m crazy about you. I want to be with you on every level. I’m done fighting, and I’m ready to settle down—with you.” I shake my head and he goes still. His jaw clenches. “Please don’t tell me you don’t want that.”