"But—"
"Mother, I'm fine."And I've got other things on my mind.Like a certain blonde who's been haunting my dreams lately.
"Nonsense.Look at Nick—he found himself a sweet, caring woman who's building her own business.It's time you—"
"Running late.Gotta go."
My phone beeps with a text before I can pocket it.The message makes my jaw clench:
Good morning, Bulldozer.Up for a fresh round in the gym?Nick and I will be there in ten.
A growl rumbles in my chest at Brian's words.Bulldozer.My mind instantly conjures images of the blonde who gave me that nickname—all curves and attitude wrapped in red lace.Of all the women in Boston, my body decides to go haywire over my best friend's wife's best friend.Fucking perfect.
Time to focus on something—anything—else.I grab my Range Rover's keys and head for the elevator, the familiar weight settling in my palm.Forget another espresso.Time to teach Brian Fox a lesson about nicknames.
Labored breaths fill the air, and sweat drips from my pecs to my abdomen in steady rivers.The burn in my arms should be my focus as my fists connect with the punching bag, but my mind keeps wandering to places it has no business going.Like how Alisha's honey-blonde hair would feel twisted around my fingers, or how those feline green eyes would look glazed with pleasure.How her ruby-red lips would—Fuck.Another punch lands, harder this time.Get.Out.Of.My.Head.
"Looks like our Bulldozer's lost his edge today," Brian taunts, his shit-eating grin visible in my peripheral vision.
Every ounce of frustration flows into my right leg as I kick the punching bag.It swings back with enough force to catch Brian in the chest, sending him sprawling onto his ass.Nick's laughter echoes through the gym.
Brian jumps to his feet, still grinning."Definitely hit a nerve there."
"Fuck off," I mutter, landing another combination of punches.
"Come on, Grumpy.Why don't you just admit you're interested in Alisha?"
I kick the bag again, harder."Says the man who's been too chicken for years to admit he's in love with a particular woman.Newsflash, Fox...there comes a time when she'll stop waiting for your sorry ass, and then you'll have lost her."
His water bottle whistles past my head."Fuck you, Walker."
"God, you're both enormous babies," Nick says, crossing his arms.Before either of us can retaliate, a familiar voice cuts through our bullshit.
"Oh, there you are, guys."
Emma walks toward us, her smile bright despite the worry lines creasing her forehead.
"Dad!"Charlotte races past her mother, launching herself at Nick.
"Hey, Smarty.How was school?"
"Boring."Her nose wrinkles, making us all laugh.
"Can I play with the jump ropes over there, Daddy?"Nick nods, and she takes off running.
"How's Alisha doing?"Nick's voice drops low as he asks Emma.
My fists pause mid-strike, ears straining to catch Emma's response.The concern etched across her face makes my stomach clench.
"She received a threat letter yesterday," Emma whispers."At her door."
The punching bag swings forgotten as I turn."What?"
"Amanda made her call the police."Emma's eyes get glassy."She hasn't slept properly since the attack.She's exhausted and scared, but too proud to ask for help."
Nick pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her temple."She needs to be ready, Em."His hand drifts to her pregnant belly, protective and gentle.
"You're right."Emma sighs, then brightens slightly as she looks at her husband."Are you coming to lunch?"
