Page 56 of Fighting for Irish
Chapter Fourteen
The sounds of car doors banging followed by the low rumblings of male voices penetrated the light sleep Kat had managed to slip into. Wanting to see Irish after her long shift at Lou’s, she’d driven over to his place. She’d been disappointed to find him and Xander gone, but she wasn’t his mother. He didn’t need to check in with her or get her permission. As much as the not-knowing stung, she’d turned around with every intention of going home to Murphy…until she saw that Ally had moved to the bottom of the steps. Then she hastily decided to hang out and wait for the guys to return.
Yawning, she uncurled herself from the corner of the couch and stretched her aching limbs. Kat folded herself back in, wrapping her arms around her legs, when a thought flitted through her mind. Would Irish be upset she’d come over unannounced? Maybe he’d really taken the night off because he needed space from her. Or maybe he’d simply grown tired of her already and wanted to move on but didn’t know how to tell her.
Shit!What had she been thinking coming over uninvited? Now she felt ten kinds of dumb.
She heard Xander ordering the alligator to “quit her bitching,” followed by heavy footsteps ascending the creaking wooden stairs. Kat launched off the couch, suddenly feeling like she had no right to be there, much less lounging on the couch. Clasping her hands in front of her, she prepared to explain her presence, apologize, and make a hasty retreat. But the moment the guys walked through the door, her plan was all but forgotten.
Her fingers flew up to her mouth on a gasp. “Holy shit, what happened to you two?”
Xander’s eye was cut and his face looked like he’d come from the dentist and forgot to take the cotton rolls out of his cheek. Irish wasn’t much better, with a black right eye under a one-inch gash and swollen bottom lip where his healing cut had split open again. Xander cut a presumably innocent glance at his friend. The kind that asked whether he was supposed to make up a story or beat feet. Some women may have missed the “guilty” signals, but she’d become adept at picking up on people’s tells. A perpetual distrust of her fellow man and years of working in bars and diners attributed to that particular talent.
Irish gave a slight shake of his head and dropped a large gym bag at his feet. Xan clapped his hands together. “You know what I just remembered? I was supposed to go over to Sandy’s tonight, so I’ll just take a quick shower—”
A throat clearing interrupted him.
“Or I could take one over at her place.”
Irish inclined his head. “That’d be good.”
“Right, then,” Xander said on his way to the door. “Lovely to see you again, Kat.”
“Night, Xander.”
They stood there, not moving or speaking until they could no longer hear the roar of the Nova. Finally, he broke the silence. “I need to shower.”
“I can see that. Basic first aid might not be a bad idea, either. Want to tell me what happened?”
“I entered that underground tournament Xander’s in. I had a fight tonight. Xan, too.”
She canted her head. “I thought you never wanted to fight again.”
He shrugged one shoulder and she found herself resenting the T-shirt for hiding the undulating muscles underneath. “Been reconsidering. There’s this big-time manager, Victor McManus. He’s scouting out there for new talent. Figured I’d give it a shot.”
Kat couldn’t stop the ear-to-ear grin from spreading on her face.
“What?” he asked.
“I think it’s great. I’m so happy for you.” Unable to hold back any longer, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. He sucked in a sharp breath and cursed as he grabbed her arms to hold her back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing serious. Just a few bruises.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” She stared at his torso as though she’d be able to see the damage. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, but it’d be great if you hold off on giving me any bear hugs for a couple weeks,” he said with a wry half grin. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t give me any of your kitten hugs.”
Kat raised an eyebrow. “What are my kitten hugs?”
“You know the ones.” He took hold of her hands and brought them up behind his neck, even though the strain on his face told her it caused him pain. “Your arms go up like that, mine go around your waist, and you lean into me all soft and sweet…” He pulled her body flush with his. “Like this.”
“Ah, yes, now I remember,” she quipped, gazing up at him. “These are the kind conducive to kissing, am I right?”
“Yeah, they are.”
He bent his head and she noticed a smear of dark red, caked-on blood below his ear. She stopped him with a palm held between their faces. Gingerly touching the area, she winced at the thought of what might be under there. “Does that one hurt?”
He reached up, prodded, then scraped off the mark. “Blood’s not mine.”
