Page 8 of Army
“And you don’t have an ounce of fat on you, so it won’t kill you,” Peyton added.
“Guilt attack over. I’m pigging out tonight. Let’s order appetizers.” Mia giggled.
As they sipped their drinks, the women’s eyes lit up when the waiter put a large platter in front of them. Carrots, celery, and pita chips surrounded a crock of hot artichoke-and-spinach dip.
“That looks fucking awesome,” Ronica said as she picked up a chip.
“Good choice,” Danielle injected, swiping the carrot stick through the gooey dip.
Mia crunched down on a celery stalk, and her mouth danced from the sweet, nutty flavor of the dip and the tang from the feta cheese. “This is so good,” she said.
“How can you concentrate at the gym with all those buffed guys working out?” Danielle asked.
Mia laughed. “I’m so focused on what I’m doing and trying not to get my face smashed in that I don’t even notice.”
“Not even your trainer?” Ronica said.
“Rick? He’s not really my type.” Mia picked up her creamy drink.
“What’s your type?” Peyton asked.
Mia tilted her head back. “I like ruggedly handsome guys who have a bad boy vibe.”Like Taylor’s asshole brother.
“Give me a guy in a fine-tailored suit any day,” Danielle said.
“Who’re you thinking of?” Ronica asked Mia.
She frowned slightly. “No one.”
“You didn’t blush forno one. I know you too well.” Ronica pushed her plate away and leaned back in the chair, staring at Mia. “Give it up.”
“It’s nothing, really. I just met Taylor’s brother today, and he’s my type except that he’s in love with himself. You know the kind.”
“Oh … one ofthose. It’s best to stay far away from him,” Peyton said.
“I love difficult men,” Danielle added. “They’re a challenge, and so damn masculine.” She licked her lips.
“I’ve got enough difficult shit to deal with in my life. I don’t need a conceited idiot making it worse,” Mia replied.
Ronica clapped her hands. “He’s gotten under your skin. I love it!”
Mia’s jaw tightened and she smoothed out her napkin over and over as if her hand were an iron. “He’sdone no such thing. I can’t even imagine what it’d be like to go out with someone like him. He’s a total sexist … probably one of those who think women MMA fighters are akin to mud wrestlers or wet T-shirt contestants. He’s disgusting.” Anger flushed over her neck and face.Why am I getting so mad?
“He does seem to have gotten to you,” Peyton said, handing her a clean napkin.
Mia dabbed it over her damp face determined to change the subject.
“Who had the Tequila Chicken Salad?” the waiter asked as he took it off a large tray he carried.
Relieved for the distraction, Mia yelled, “Me!” then looked sheepishly down at the silverware as diners at tables around hers stared over.
After distributing all the dinners, the server dashed away with promises of refilling their water glasses.
“Hey, Mia,” a jovial voice said behind her.
She looked up and into Taylor’s face. “Hi. What’re you doing here?”
“Harry’s Hall was too crowded so we came over here. He gestured to a group of men making their way to the back of the restaurant. Several of the ring girls hung onto some of the men’s arms, including Army’s. All of a sudden, the creamy tequila-lime vinaigrette made her stomach sour. Tearing her gaze away from Dessie, who was molded to Army’s side, she put her fork down. “Are the fights finished so soon?”
