Page 29 of Keep Your Guard Up
How is this even happening?
They were brighter—maybe it was the colour of his shirt? That blue roamed shamelessly over my face, studying me with blatant curiosity.
JJ grumbled something about everyone coming after him when Nan slipped off her apron. Pushing out of my chair and away from the conversation, I grabbed the oven mitts and put my hands through them.
“I got it, Nan,” I said, picking up the hefty pot of goodness she’d been cooking.
“Thank you, dear.” She patted my shoulder before heading to the fridge for what I assumed would be her bottle of wine.
“Any fights coming up?” Al nodded his thanks at Nan, who had a beer for him in one hand, her wine in the other.
Chance pursed his lips. “Potentially. Things are in talks at the moment,” he replied, sipping from his water.
“Pfft,” JJ scoffed. “Tell them the truth, man.”
“What truth?” I asked.
Chance shot our friend a look that hadthanks assholewritten all over it.
“My next fight should be a title shot,” he said casually—as if it wasn’t a big fucking deal.
“A title shot? Against Randy Rager?” I asked.
After Chance had taunted me with his little ‘google it’ comment, I’d made myself pretty fucking aware of who was what in that world—his world. Randy Rager was the current champion in the light heavyweight division with an impressive record to match it. He was known for playing dirty, both in and out of the cage, and turning MMA cage fights into bar fights—using any and every rule possible to his advantage and brutalising his opponents. Not to mention, outside of the cage, he appeared to have been caught in somereallysketchy shit.
“The one and only,” Chance grumbled, unimpressed.
“God, I’d love to watch that asshole cop a fucking flog—”
“Watch your mouth, Jaxon,” Nan warned, slipping into her usual seat at head of the table.
“It’s quite well-warranted, Marilyn. Rager isn’t a very nice person,” Al cut in.
“Understatement of the century,” Chance retorted, shaking his head slightly before setting his eyes on Nan. “What’s for dinner, Marilyn?”
~
“I feel like a stuffed pig,” JJ moaned, leaning back in his chair. “Your cooking never fails me, Nana Maz.”
Nan waved him off, though I saw the compliment sink in. If there was one thing she was unconditionally proud of—it was her cooking. Rightfully so.
“Anytime, dear. You know you’re always welcome at our table.” She pressed a kiss to JJ’s cheek as she stood and began clearing plates.
“I got it, Marilyn.” Chance stood, towering over the table, and extended a hand. “You sit down.”
Nan’s cheeks blushed at the act of kindness before her eyes found mine. Her eyebrows flicked up above her glasses.Help him.
Mine scrunched.No, I did the dishes last week.
Her eyes narrowed on me—I had zero chance of winning this argument.
“You wash, I’ll dry, Riordan,” I sighed as Nan grinned triumphantly. Al laughed, having caught the whole exchange.
“I’d really like to go over the details of the anniversary party with you while I’m here, Marilyn.” Al smirked my way before gesturing for Nan to follow him. Gus greedily sniffed around the table. Deeming the floor clean from scraps, he skittered off to follow the oldies.
“Right, well I have places to be,” JJ said, tucking his chair in, head buried in his phone, no doubt in talks of a booty call with some poor woman.
Chance put the dishes in the sink, turning the hot water on and pushing the plug into the drain. He turned to our friend, hand extended while the other squirted soap into the sink.
