Page 4 of Between the Ropes

I should be excited, but I can’t help the anxiety and nerves swirling in my belly. Annika did her best to boost my confidence before I left—insisting on doing my makeup, making sure I looked and felt my best. “First impressions are everything,” she’d said, dabbing on just the right amount of highlighter to make me glow. “And trust me, looking good makes you feelgood.” I’d laughed at her logic, but I let her work her magic. It was her way of showing she cared, and honestly, I needed the extra confidence boost.

I can still hear her voice in my head. “You’ve got this, babe. Go kill it.”

I hope she’s right.

Tampa International buzzes with life as I wheel my suitcase toward the terminal, double-checking my boarding pass for the third time in five minutes. I’ve never traveled alone before—never even flown solo—and now here I am, about to board a plane to New York for a brand-new job in a world I know almost nothing about. I better get used to it though, because from what I’ve been told, life with UXW is nonstop travel.

I did my best to pack light, but honestly, it was nearly impossible to know what I would need. I packed all of the essentials, tons of outfits suitable for work, I wasn’t sure if they would be providing a uniform or not, so I made sure to have plenty to wear, as well as a few fancier tops, and a dress just in case, I had any meetings to attend. I shoved as much as I could fit into the two suitcases, and my carry-on bag. I’m sure I’ve forgotten something, but it’s New York, I should be able to pick up anything I need while I’m there.

I pause at a newsstand and stare at the rows of magazines, trying to find anything that will give me some insight into what I’ve just signed up for. And then I see it—a glossy cover with bold letters:UXW. It’s a special issue about the latest championship series, featuring a lineup of massive, muscle-bound wrestlers. Perfect.

I grab the magazine and bring it up to the counter. I pull out a ten-dollar bill, and hand it to the cashier. She has an annoyed look on her face, I don’t blame her, who would want to work in an airport? I stuff the change into my pocket and I go to check my bags before I head to the gate. Settling into a chair, I startflipping through the pages, skimming for any names or faces that might stand out. But all of this looks foreign to me.

“You’re really diving into it, huh?”

I blink and glance up at the deep voice. There’s a guy standing in front of me—tall, dark hair pulled into a low ponytail, molten brown eyes fixed on me with casual curiosity. He’s built like a god, broad shoulders and arms inked in tattoos, the kind of man who looks like he should be on the cover of the very magazine I’m holding. My brain lags for a second, distracted by the defined cut of his jaw and how casually confident he looks, like the airport is just his runway. He drops his duffel bag into the seat beside me, never breaking eye contact.

“Oh, uh… yeah,” I say, holding up the wrestling magazine like it explains everything. “Just trying to cram before the first day.”

He lifts an eyebrow, intrigued. “You got a job with UXW?”

I nod. “Today’s the big day. Flying up to New York for onboarding.”

“Let me guess… front office? Media? Catering?” His lips twitch into a half-smirk, like he's enjoying the game of twenty questions.

“Massage therapy,” I say, lifting my chin. “Athlete wellness team.”

That earns a low whistle. “So, you're the lucky one who gets to rub down sweaty wrestlers all day?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “If you say it like that again, I might quit before I even start.”

He chuckles and holds up his hands. “Fair. I’m just saying, you’re braver than most.”

“Thanks?” I offer, half amused. “And you? You a fan of wrestling or just into awkward airport conversations?”

He grins. “I dabble.”

He doesn’t offer more, and something tells me he’s used to being mysterious. Still, I’m not sure if he’s flirting or justnaturally charming—or maybe both. Before I can decide, the gate agent makes a boarding announcement. I reach for my bag and stand, only for the strap to catch on the armrest. My foot snags, and I pitch forward with a yelp—straight into his chest.

Which, for the record, is annoyingly solid. Like running into a brick wall wrapped in expensive cologne.

Strong hands catch me before I hit the ground. His grip is firm, steadying me easily. “Careful,” he says, voice lower now, warm and amused. “They haven’t even rung the bell yet.”

I flush, pulling back slightly. “I’m so sorry. That was… definitely not my most graceful moment.”

“You’re fine,” he says, still not letting go. “Though if this is how you greet everyone, you might wanna pace yourself.”

I laugh despite myself, pulling back enough to look up at him. His smile is wicked—like he knows the effect he’s having on me—and it only makes the butterflies worse.

“Thanks for the save.”

“No problem.”

We walk toward the gate together, and he glances at my boarding pass. “Guess we’re on the same flight.”

I glance at him, curiosity piqued. “Business or pleasure?”

His smirk widens. “Little bit of both.”

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