21. Chapter 18
Mari
T o say JJ was the life of the party would have been an understatement.
He was the party.
At least half of the room was over there, listening to him babble on about some story of how he’d nearly died when a non-venomous snake bit his left testicle.
Though, as per usual, he’d failed to mention the ‘non-venomous’ part.
I chuckled to myself as I scanned his audience, so captivated and in awe of the idiot.
I forced myself to swallow my laughter with a swig of my whiskey.
The group started laughing and clapping—I assumed they’d gotten to the point where he’d run around his poor grandmother’s house butt-ass naked, screeching for someone to help him.
The rest of the ‘ pleasantries ’ I was forced to exchange with Camden had been sent by Satan himself.
Though this time, I hadn’t broken. I’d sat through each and every one of his idiotic suggestions, every one of his unwarranted criticisms. I’d thought of Nan and Al, how much effort and love they’d put into Knock’s over the years.
I’d ordered another drink. I’d thought of JJ and the difficult task he’d completed of getting people to come and find the home in Knock’s that the rest of us had.
I’d ordered another drink. I’d thought about all of the kids I’d taught over the last few years, all of the report cards that had changed to reflect positive news rather than dreary. I’d ordered yet another drink.
And I’d continued ordering drinks at the back corner of the bar since I’d walked out of the room that reeked exclusively with little-dick testosterone.
Well, not completely.
My gaze found Chance and I scanned over that face of his. His eyes were alight with amusement in a way that confirmed he’d picked up on the slip of certain details in JJ’s story. He smiled at my best friend— our best friend —so at ease and relaxed.
That fucking smile.
Since Jayden, I’d sworn not to get involved with fighters. I always have been and always will be surrounded by fighters. But I refused to ever be treated as being below them, ever be treated as a punching bag myself.
And yet here I was, gawking at him like a schoolgirl with a crush.
You just can’t help yourself, can you?
This niggling, almost itching part of me yearned to reconsider—baiting me with thoughts of ‘ He doesn’t seem to be like the others ’ and ‘ What if he’s different and he’s everything you’ve been looking for? ’.
I doubted it.
So, I shut down each of those thoughts as they came. Which, apparently, was rather quickly and frequently when I’d been drinking.
These crinkles showed right below his eyes as he laughed at something JJ had said. I’d never known I could see value in the lines on someone’s face—their lines of happiness.
Those particular creases told me he was in fact smiling true.
Chance boggled my mind in ways I hadn’t even known were possible. He drove me to a state of pure anger one second, pure libido the next. He sprinted circles in my head, not to mention he put on one hell of a guns-show when he was teaching.
Fucking nowhere is safe from this man and his orgasmic, god-like existence.
Chance’s creases deepened even further, and I startled when it became obvious he’d caught me staring.
Shit .
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I downed another drink.
Fuck. My. Life.
Chance snickered and stood, patting JJ on the back before moving over towards the bar. Moving? No—gliding.
Yes, this man glided.
Jesus, Mari. How many drinks have you had?
He picked up a bottle of whiskey—my favourite kind, in fact—and nodded his head towards the door, his blue eyes boring into mine.
Not enough.
I broke.
I was up and out the door before he was, sprinting down the back exit hallway.
His laugh was behind me; such a delightful sound, running its way down to my bones.
I couldn’t even hold back the laugh that tumbled out of me.
A bright flash blinded me momentarily. Paige, our town’s customary artistic photographer, stepped aside as she lowered her camera. A big smile with a crooked gap between her two front teeth beamed back at us as we slowed our pace slightly. She flashed me a double thumbs up, and we were off again.
I ran over to the pub’s mailbox and slipped two crisp pineapples into it for the whiskey Chance was currently holding.
“You don’t think someone’ll wanna grab that?” he asked me.
I laughed again. A jolt of excitement going straight to my chest at the sparkle in his eye when I made such a noise.
Or maybe it is just the alcohol.
“People don’t steal shit in Soggla, Chance,” I replied. “At least not the locals.” I winked at him and gestured to the bottle of whiskey.
He laughed before taking a swig and handing me the slightly cool glass. I took two long gulps before we moved along and started walking up the road.
Gym-ward . Where else?
“So … did you know this is my favourite brand of whiskey or is it a happy coincidence?”
He gently pulled the bottle out of my hands and gulped again before looking down at the bottle and smiling. “This is actually my favourite whiskey as well,” he replied. “I haven’t been able to drink it for a few years now. Wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.”
I chuckled. “What, were you in prison or something?”
He smiled down at the bottle again.
“Something like that.” He lifted the whiskey and took four long gulps as if it were orange juice. “So, tell me,” he offered the drink my way. “What’s it like being the daughter of the great Elijah Trevino?”
I groaned. “We’re actually having a really nice time together, for once, and you choose to throw a nuke at it?” I tossed back another swig.
“You’re not close, I take it?” He gave me a sidelong glance, wariness lining his gaze.
“Nope.” Not anymore , that little voice said. I took another gulp, the whiskey starting to lose its burn going down my throat. “One day, I’ll stand at his grave and be filled with the regret of the times we didn’t have. But today isn’t that day.”
Chance stared at me for a long moment, those blue eyes scattering across my face as if he was reading a book.
“Righto, my turn,” I said.
“Uh-oh.”
“Tell me how a big-time UFC fighter, impeccable record, thousands of adoring fans … ended up here.”
“What’s so strange about here?”
I gave him a long look. “Come on. You’re from the city. Mr Darlington Harbour . You can’t possibly mean to tell me that small-town Soggla is better than that.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Sunny.” A playful smirk broke out across his pink lips. “I love it here.”
There was not a single part of me that could ignore the warm feeling inside my chest that sprouted from hearing those words.