Chapter 3
THREE
KODA
For a second, my brain glitches.
The last time I saw Charlotte Palmer she was a skinny kid in French braids with scraped knees and a gap-toothed smile.
The woman standing behind the bar now stops me cold.
Honey-blonde hair falls in waves past her shoulders, framing a face that’s shed every trace of childhood softness. Her eyes are still that same piercing blue I remember, but there’s a confidence there now, a knowing quality that wasn’t there before.
She’s wearing a black tank top that hugs curves I have no business noticing, and when she moves, the fabric rides up just enough to reveal a strip of toned stomach that sends heat straight through me.
Shame burns through my chest like acid.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
This is Charlotte. My best friend’s daughter.
I force my gaze up to her face again, but the damage is done. My body’s already responded, and I hate myself for it.
“How’ve you been, Koda?” Her voice has changed too. Lower, with a smoky quality that does things to me I refuse to acknowledge.
I clear my throat.
“Good. Trying to stay busy.”
Jason claps me on the shoulder, oblivious to my internal war.
“This guy’s training champions while the rest of us mere mortals just try to survive Monday mornings.”
Charlotte grins. “Training champions, huh?”
“Ben Mitchell,” Jason says. “Koda’s been working with him for two years.”
Something shifts in Charlotte’s expression. A flicker of impressed surprise that she tries to hide. But I catch it, and the part of me that’s still a fighter preens under her admiration before I can stop it.
“That’s awesome,” she says, and there’s no mistaking the respect in her voice now. “I mean, I knew you were good, but world champion level...”
I shift uncomfortably under her gaze.
“Ben did the work,” I reply. “I just helped him refine his technique.”
“Don’t let him downplay it,” Jason interjects. “He’s the best trainer they’ve ever had at Worthington Sports. Fighters are lining up to work with him.”
Charlotte’s grin widens. “So, what can I get this world champion trainer to drink? My dad’s having whiskey. What’s your poison, Koda?”
For a second, I almost say her name aloud. That’s how rattled I am.
“Jack, neat,” I say gruffly. “And whatever your dad’s having.”
“Make mine the same,” Jason says. “We’re celebrating a reunion.”
Charlotte gives me another devastating smile.
“Two whiskeys coming right up.”
When she turns to pour our drinks, I make the mistake of watching her move.
She navigates the space behind the bar with practiced efficiency, reaching for bottles and glasses with fluid motions that draw my attention to the graceful line of her spine, the way her jeans hug her hips. Every movement seems designed to torment me.
Jason surveys the crowded bar, nodding toward a booth near the window.
“Let’s grab that table. Give us some space to catch up.”
“Good idea.” I stand perhaps too quickly, desperate to put distance between myself and the woman who’s turned my world upside down in the span of five minutes.
We weave through the crowd toward the booth. The Summit is busier than I expected for a Thursday night. I slide into the booth across from Jason, positioning myself so I can see the bar without being obvious about it.
Charlotte appears at our table moments later, carrying our drinks on a small tray.
“Here you go,” she says, setting the glasses down carefully. Her fingers brush mine as I reach for my whiskey. The contact is brief, innocent, but it might as well be a live wire.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Jason says, taking a sip of his drink. “This place is busier than I expected.”
“Yeah, thursdays are usually like that,” Charlotte replies, glancing around the room.
“We get a lot of the ski crowd this time of year, plus locals who don’t want to cook.
” She looks back at us, her gaze lingering on me for a beat too long.
“I’ll let you guys catch up. Just wave if you need anything. ”
As she walks away, Jason settles back in the booth with a contented sigh.
“Man, do you ever feel like you blink and miss your own life. I can’t believe Charlotte’s already twenty-one.”
I take a long swallow of whiskey, welcoming the burn.
It’s easier than responding to that observation.
“She seems happy here.”
“She is now.” Jason’s expression grows thoughtful. “You should’ve seen the fight we had when she first told me she wanted to move here. I was dead set against it. My little girl, moving to a mountain town all by herself? No way in hell.”
“What changed your mind?”
“She did. Showed up to dinner one night with this whole presentation. Beauty school brochures, part-time job listings, budget spreadsheets. Kid had it all figured out.” Pride softens his features. “Reminded me so much of her mother. Same determination, same stubborn streak.”
I nod, stealing a glance toward the bar where Charlotte is mixing a cocktail for a customer. She’s laughing at something the man said, and the sound carries over the din of conversation.
Every man in the place seems to be watching her.
My jaw tightens involuntarily. The rational part of my brain knows I have no right to feel this territorial heat spreading through my veins, but that doesn’t stop my fingers from flexing around my glass.
“I’m surprised you’re okay with her working in a place like this,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Lot of drunk idiots to deal with.”
Jason grimaces.
“Trust me, it wasn’t my first choice. But Charlotte’s got that Palmer stubborn streak a mile wide.
Won’t take a penny from me unless she’s dying in a ditch somewhere.
Says she needs to make her own way.” He pauses, watching Charlotte serve drinks to a table across the room.
“Can’t say I blame her. I was the same way at her age. ”
“Where’s she living? Somewhere safe, I hope.”
“She’s got a place with a roommate not far from here. A girl she knew from back home who’s also at the beauty school.” Jason leans back, taking another sip of his whiskey. “Small world, right? Charlotte runs into her childhood friend on the first day of orientation.”
Relief washes through me that she’s not living alone, followed immediately by the uncomfortable realization that I care way too much about this.
“She’s grown into quite a woman,” Jason continues, completely unaware of my internal struggle. “Smart as a whip, just like her mom. Independent as hell, just like me.”
I force a smile, but inside, my thoughts are churning.
I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be feeling whatever this is. Charlotte is off-limits, not just because she’s Jason’s daughter, but because I’m two decades older than her. Because I’m damaged goods with nothing to offer anyone, let alone someone young and full of potential.
“You still with me, big guy?” Jason asks, nudging my arm.
I snap back to attention.
“Yeah, sorry. Long day.”
“No more mafia shit I hope?”
“Nah. Gio Vega’s been six feet under for over a year now.
Good riddance.” The memory of those days still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Dana’s made it her personal mission to clean up Worthington Sports.
She’s been ruthless about cutting ties with anyone even remotely connected to Vega’s operation. ”
“Thank fuck,” Jason exhales, visibly relieved. “I worried about you, man. Those guys don’t usually let people walk away.”
“Well, they make exceptions when their ringleader catches a bullet,” I say dryly. “Besides, Dana’s scarier than most crime bosses I’ve met.”
Jason chuckles at that.
“Speaking of Dana, how’s she doing? Still running the place with an iron fist?”
“More like a titanium fist,” I snort. “She’s got me teaching a beginner boxing class now. Bunch of rich kids who think they’re the next Tyson.”
Jason chokes on his whiskey, and laughter erupts from his chest.
“You? Teaching beginners? How the hell did that happen?”
“The trainer who was supposed to teach it quit,” I explain, rolling my shoulders in annoyance. “Packed up everything and moved to Texas to be with some woman he met online. Knew her for a week.”
I scoff, expecting Jason to join me.
Instead, he gets this faraway look in his eyes and says, “Sometimes you just know.”
“Why are you getting all sentimental on me?”
He takes a deep breath, then meets my gaze.
“I’m seeing someone.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“Shit. Seriously?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Rebecca.” His face softens in a way I haven’t seen since before Elaine died. “She’s a high school counselor in Cheyenne. We met at a fundraiser for the school.”
I sit back, genuinely surprised.
In all the years since Elaine died, Jason never showed interest in dating. Never even mentioned feeling lonely.
“How long have you been seeing each other?”
“Two months. I wasn’t even going to go to that fundraiser, but one of the guys at work dragged me along.
Said I needed to get out of the house.” Jason’s smile grows wider.
“She was running the silent auction. Had this whole system organized with color-coded bid sheets and volunteers stationed at every table. She was so focused, so passionate about raising money for these kids. I found myself bidding on things I didn’t even want just to have an excuse to talk to her. ”
I can’t help but grin.
“What did you end up winning?”
“A weekend at some bed and breakfast in Laramie. Spent three hundred dollars on it.” He laughs, shaking his head. “But it worked. She agreed to go with me.”
“That’s great, man. I’m happy for you.” And I am. Jason deserves happiness more than anyone I know.
“Thanks,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “It’s still new, but it’s good. Really good. She’s patient with me, you know? Understands that I’m still figuring out how to do this again.”
“Charlotte know?”
His expression clouds immediately.