Page 43 of On the Ropes
Dean
Istepped out of the shower to knocking at my door while my cell phone rang. With a soft curse, I wrapped a towel around my waist and ran a hand through my wet hair. My rib cage ached as I inhaled. Sly had worked me on the pull-up bar at the gym and had me skipping rope between sets. I’d welcomed the burn in my muscles and the diversion from analyzing every interaction I’d had with a certain vivacious redhead.
Nothing seemed to temper my lust for her though.
I snatched my phone from the top of the dresser. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“You don’t even say hello to your agent anymore?”
I tucked the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I tightened my towel. “Harry?”
“Yeah, how you doing? How’s Midge and Maria?”
Harry Fleet had been my agent since my amateur boxing days. I still heard from him a couple times a year, usually about some appearance or re-airing of a classic fight, but it had been more than six months since he’d called me up out of the blue.
“My parents are good. Healthy. And I’m fine.” Someone knocked at my door again. A little more persistently this time. “You’re not at my house, are you?”
“In South Philly? No, why would I be?”
I walked down the stairs to another round of knocking. “Uh…never mind. Is everything okay?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, everything’s okay. Everything is great. Are you sitting down?”
I twitched open the front curtain. Tabitha was on the top of my stoop in a cropped black tank top and jean shorts. She turned, ponytail swinging, and smiled at me like I was her best friend in the whole world. In her hands were two small white containers with plastic spoons.
Then we both realized I was naked from the waist up, in only a towel, at the exact same time. Her eyes dipped down my torso. Lingered long enough to have all the blood in my body coursing south. The path her pretty gaze traveled seemed slow on purpose, like she was enjoying the view.
“Dean?” Harry said.
I didn’t respond. I was riveted to the goddamn spot, watching Tabitha watch me.I felt it like she was right here. Like those hands of hers were trailing down my chest. Like those fingers were hooking into the top of my towel. Like she would eagerly fall to her knees while my own fingers wrapped around that ponytail.
“Dean, are you there?”
“Just a minute,” I said roughly, wiping my hand across my mouth. Tabitha finally snapped out of her own daze and covered her eyes with a flirtatious smirk.
“Oh my God, sorry for being such a fucking perv,” she yelled. “And sorry for yelling that on your front stoop for anyone to hear. I’m definitely making this situation worse and not better. But I randomly picked up mango and lemon water ice from John’s and thought it was spontaneous enough to have you join me on the stoop?”
Her fingers separated an inch so she could peek through. Electricity snapped off my nerve endings like heat lightning. I was grateful for the literal brick wall separating us. This was fight night power. The unstoppable kind. The addicting kind.
And I hadn’t closed the curtains or covered myself up either. I’d let Tabitha check out my body like she was as overcome with temptation as I was.
I cocked my head at the door and let the curtain drop. Then I placed the phone down on the table and cracked my front door open. Her cheeks were pink, lips parted.
“Let me finish this call, and then I’ll come eat your…water ice.”
Her dark brows shot up. “Okay, now who’s the perv?”
I rubbed my jaw. “I’m learning from the best.”
She tipped her head back and laughed. And was still laughing as I let the door click shut.
“Sorry, Harry,” I mumbled into the phone. “It was my neighbor.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he said. “But listen…Dean, I’m telling you. I’ve got huge news. The network called, asking about your availability.”
“What network?”
“Are you kidding me? The network. Game Time. The largest sports entertainment channel in the country isn’t ringin’ a bell for you?”
