Page 52 of Desperate Haste

Ithought he was a nerd. A nerd who reads anything and everything and plays Dungeons and Dragons with his friends. But the person I saw in the ring was anything but that.

He was strong and fierce. Powerful and focused.

And also hot as fuck.

When I arrived outside the dirty garage, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. He’d only sent me an address, nothing more, so I had no idea it was some sort of boxing gym. Not once has he mentioned that he boxes so when I walked in and saw him sparring in the ring, I was surprised to say the least. And turned on something crazy. Then he had to go and kiss me on the cheek and now I’m left feeling like I’m sitting on top of an oversized suitcase of emotions I try not to feel for people, struggling to zip it shut again.

“So, how do you and Malcolm know each other?” his sponsor asks.

“Mutual friends. His friend Hank is married to my best friend,” I explain.

“I know Hank, good guy.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Malcolm is also a good guy,” he starts, looking at me with raised brows and a half smirk.

I laugh, and I’m mildly uncomfortable because I get the sense that this man wants more out of this relationship than I do. “Yeah, he is. He took care of me when I was sick before the holidays.”

“Did he now?” Marshall asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, I had food poisoning. It was awful but he was really great about it.”

“Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” I look at the elderly man and wonder how old he is. The wrinkles along his eyes are like the rings you find in the center of an old oak tree. He looks tired, but strong.

“It’s just, Malcolm has affliction towards sickness. Puking especially, he hates it. Don’t ever ask him to visit a hospital, it freaks the poor kid out more than commitment does,” he says with a laugh followed up by a few deep breaths as if his laughter took everything out of him.

I feel my brows pull into the center of my face and my mouth forms a small O as I take in what he just told me. Malcolm never said anything about being weird around sick people and didn’t seem bothered in the slightest about my inability to stop barfing all weekend. My mind flashes to when I asked him if he was only taking care of me because he liked having sex with me and he told me that he was taking care of me because he actuallylikedme. Maybe he wasn’t lying after all.

“You ready?” I hear his voice behind me and turn to find him with damp hair and wearing his glasses.Fuck these glasses and what they do to my insides.Something on his wrist catches my eyesight and I squint at it.

“Is that my scrunchie? Did you steal that from my place?” I scoff, holding his wrist up, staring at it.

He chuckles a few times before replying. “I may have swiped it after my shower. It’s nice to pull my hair back when I’m training.”

“You little klepto! I’ve been looking for that everywhere.” He smiles at me, finding humor in my annoyance. I don’t hate when he drapes his arm around my shoulder. Marshall looks at the two of us with a smug expression, like he knows something we don’t.

“You two have a good day now. Malcolm, don’t forget to place the liquor order tomorrow for Butcher and Block.”

“Do I ever forget?” he asks in a haughty tone.

“No, but it seems like you have a pretty good reason to be distracted. Just thought I’d remind you.” The old man winks and walks away after waving a hand at us.

Malcolm starts to walk towards the door and I follow since I’m still tucked under his arm. I hold his hand draped over my shoulder and wrap my other arm around his waist, and for a moment I allow my heart to live in a world where this could be our Saturday ritual.

“I missed you,” he mumbles into my ear and the heat of his breath warms my insides.

“You just missed the sex,” I reply flatly.

“I’d be lying if I said no,” he pauses, “but I also missed you. It’s been a month since I’ve seen you, and I missed seeing those pretty eyes of yours looking back at me.” My eyes, which have been focused on the sidewalk, flash to him. Before speaking, I take a breath and try to control my heart but I’m starting to feel like I’m losing that battle.

“How many girls have you used that line on?” I chide.

“None,” he says simply as we reach his truck and I can feel the heat in my cheeks giving me away. “Now hop in, I’m taking us to one of my favorite places.”

“The last time you did that we ended up having sex on your tailgate,” I jab with a smirk. “Plus, what about my car?”

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