Page 15 of The Other Guy

JACK

“Bet you never thought you’d see me again, did ya?!”

I laugh as I make my way to the front door of my gym, BoxUp, to greet Sierra. She looks ridiculous in an all gray sweatsuit and black stocking hat like she’s taken her fashion advice from one of the Rocky movies. “What’s up, southpaw?”

She beams. “I was so hoping you’d get it. Any gym owner worth his weight — get it? Weight? — should know who I’m channeling right now.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m a huge fan of all the Rocky movies. Stallone is one of the greatest actors of all time.”

“Favorite quote?”

I scoff and cross my arms over my chest. “Easy. ‘Every champion was once a contender who refused to give up.’” Then I point across the room to it painted on the gray wall in bright yellow.

“Fighters fight, right?”

“That they do.” I grin at her short quote. “I take it you’re a fan, too?”

“For sure. Absolutely without a doubt one of my favorites.”

I clutch my heart in mock pain. “All the good ones are taken.”

“Right? I’m a catch.” Then she puts her fists up and bounces around on her toes, jabbing a time or two out in front of her like she has a clue what she’s doing, which I can tell she doesn’t, no matter how many times she’s watched the movie.

“Okay, okay, let’s get you a lot of help before you hurt yourself.”

She punches the air above her then follows me like she’s giddy. I do a quick intro to a few of my regulars and we get to work. I show her a few basic moves and let her jump around the ring. She makes a big showing of leaning against the ropes and demanding a drink of water.

“I was absolutely right last night. You’re incredibly annoying.”

“I am not! I’m a bundle of joy!”

I bark out a laugh. “That’s debatable. How many Red Bulls did you drink this morning? Or are you this hyper all the time?”

“I may or may not have had a Monster Energy on the way here.”

“And coffee before you left home?”

“Just one… very large cup.”

“We need to check your heart rate to make sure you’re not about to collapse from too much caffeine?”

Sierra rolls her pretty dark eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

She kind of is but at the same time there’s an addicting energy to her that I can’t deny is sucking me in.

I spend the next thirty minutes letting her dance around and throw punches while trying to correct her form. It’s exhausting. She has the attention span of a gnat. It’s worse than working with a toddler. She listens to instructions for about minute then pretends like she knows what she’s doing. In the end, I decide just to let her have fun and make her promise that she’s never going to step foot in a boxing gym again. Or get into a bar fight.

I try not to focus on how cute she is and the way her body moves. Her curves that I noticed last night but are now hidden under her bulky sweat suit.

“No promises on the bar fight thing. I’m feisty.”

I sigh, needing caffeine after spending the last hour with her. “Are we about done here?”

She shrugs, looking around the gym. “I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the one who’s supposed to be teaching me how to defend myself in a wicked street battle.”

“Wicked street battle? Do you run across those often?”

I help her slip out of her gloves and hold the rope up while she climbs down from the ring. Which of course she has to do incredibly dramatically and ends up falling on the floor. Chuckling as I help her up, we go to my office and I grab us each a bottle of water out of my fridge and we both twist the cap and take a large swallow.

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