Page 37 of Bourbon Truths
“Yes, this is your room,” I answered, not wanting to hang around for her to clearly cry. I could see it happening in the way she walked around her new space, taking everything in. Her eyes beautifully glistened in awe. Nope, I didn’t do crying women. “Like I was saying, there are clothes in the closet, a bathroom to the side with makeup—”
“This is all for me?” she interrupted again. “What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch. Jett wants to help you.”
“Why? Why me?”
If I’d known this was going to be a twenty-questions kind of thing, I wouldn’t have signed up for it. I didn’t do social interactions, either. “I don’t know,” I responded, trying to end the conversation.
“You’re lying. You know why he chose me, so tell me.”
Running a hand over my face, I took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Babs. Maybe you remind him of someone from his past, but that’s not a story for me to tell. I’m here to make sure the club runs properly, that you’re minding your business and doing what you’re supposed to do.”
Suspiciously she eyed me and then said, “What happened to you?”
“Excuse me?”
She looked into my eyes, her face relaxed, and some kind of realization hit her. “You’re Kace Haywood, the boxer.”
“We’re done here,” I said, walking away. “I will be around tomorrow morning with a contract for you to sign. Don’t get into any fucking trouble tonight.”
My chest had constricted around my heart when she recognized me. It was still very raw. The scandal still swallowed me whole at night, making it hard to sleep. I didn’t need to relive it with this woman whom I’d just met and who frankly needed a shower, because she smelled like piss, and her hair looked like it had been knotted for days.
“I can understand the need to hide,” Babs said as I reached the door. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe a word of it. I’ve watched your career, and from what I’ve seen, you’ve been nothing but a hard and honest worker. You got fucked, just like me. You might not want to be my friend, Kace, but just so you know, we are very much alike. If you need someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”
Without turning around and acknowledging her, I left. What I needed was to get the hell out of her room before I broke down in front of her. I was prideful, like Jett, and never showed weakness, but the lump in my throat was growing at an alarming rate, making it impossible to breathe. I needed to find some alone time, away from the entire world.
Chapter Thirteen
My Present…
Everything in my body was telling me to turn around, to forget the little agreement I’d made with Lyla and walk away, but for some godforsaken reason, I found myself standing outside Lyla’s shitty apartment, about to knock on her door.
I’d spent zero time getting ready for this. I didn’t want her thinking I was attempting to make something of this date, so I’d thrown on a pair of black jeans, aV-necked gray shirt with the front sloppily tucked in the waistband of my jeans, which showed off my worn out black belt, and then to top it all off, I put on my old Vans that had seen better days. I was the epitome of casual.
Running my hands through my hair, I took a deep breath and knocked on her door.
While I waited for her to answer, I looked around the dump she was living in with disapproval. I was surprised the building was still standing, it looked so dilapidated. There was some definitely illegal business being conducted on the first floor, and her neighbor on the second floor apparently didn’t care about the blood splatters on his door.
I didn’t want Lyla living here. I fucking hated everything about it, actually. Why she had to be so stubborn and not accept Jett’s offer for her to help out at the community center drove me mad. She could have such a better life if she just accepted the help.
Fumbling of locks brought me out of my thoughts, and I tried to remove the crease in my brow that had formed from taking in her dwelling.
Lyla whipped open the door and smiled brightly at me. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, brown ankle boots, and a cream tank top that was short in the front and long in the back so her midriff was peeking out. Her breasts were most likely pushed up by her bra because they crested at the neckline of her shirt, making me quite aware of their size. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, exposing her gorgeous neck. My mouth watered just thinking about running my tongue up and down it.
“Mmm, you look good,” she said, grabbing her purse and shutting the door to her apartment. Before she turned and locked her door, she stepped into me, pressed her hand on my chest, and lightly kissed my lips. A waft of feminine perfume hit me hard, causing me to yearn more than I ever wanted.
She turned quickly to lock her doors before I could even consider deepening her kiss. I stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep myself from touching her as I observed the perfect curve of her ass. There were only so many ways I could control myself.
Turning around, she had a big smile on her face that almost cracked the neutral look I was trying to portray. Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?
“Ready?” she asked.
“Where are we going?” I responded, not sure what she had planned.
“What?” she asked in an offended tone. “You didn’t plan a date? You’re supposed to take me out.”
I scratched my head and thought about it for a second.Shit, was I really supposed to plan something?I couldn’t remember the last time I actually went on a date. I had no clue where to even begin. “I’m going to be honest with you, Lyla. I don’t do dates, so I have no clue where to fucking start.”
