Jessie

Jessie Hoolihan was cramped. No question. His wide frame made the storeroom a tight fit. But it was worth it. Lexie had been hanging on him all night and making all kinds of promises. She was more than happy to finally have his attention, even if it was between shelves of athletic tape and cleaning products.

Lexie was a groupie. There was really no other way to say it. Grand City’s Great Wolves Gym was on the groupie radar big time these days.

It was because some of the toughest and most successful MMA fighters in the country called this gym home. Jessie had played a part in making it happen. He’d watched his grandpa, Whitey, coach the shit out of the fighters, Jessie included.

Jessie had sparred, trained, toured, and kicked ass with the best of them behind the scenes at the GWG and now, finally, it was his time. The last few months it had gone from chicks who wanted to get close to the big names at his gym by way of Jessie, to chicks who were hanging onto Jessie because of his newfound fame.

Craddock Flynn, potentially the greatest of all time in MMA, was now a fucking movie star, Zeke Powell was a double belt holder and a household name in the sport, and his best friend, G-Man, had died on his way to the dream. He was a legend. These were Jessie’s friends, his world. The media said they were ushering in a golden age from right here in old Irish Town of Grand City. But he didn’t know about that. He knew about fighting.

He’d waited for his time. And it was here.

He knew he should be enjoying the hell out of it. He should let little Miss Lexie finish what she started. He looked down, and she was currently sliding her hands up under his shirt and licking his neck. It felt nice, but he wasn’t into it. He didn’t know why.

Jessie heard the music playing outside the storeroom door. They were celebrating. Jessie had just won his eleventh professional MMA fight in the 21st Century Fighting League, the 21C. The guys, their wives, and the slew of groupies were enjoying the moment.

And they were all waiting for a phone call. The one that would give him a chance at everything he’d been working for his entire life.

Lexie was supposed to be a distraction to help the time fly by. What was his problem? Lexie was hot. Her curves were in all the right places. She was skilled at whatever she was doing with his ear right now.

In this moment where he was supposed to be cutting loose and letting Lexie relieve a little stress, he felt himself push away.

“Hey, baby, I think we better get back out there.”

“Just give me a minute, stud. I promise it won’t take me long, and you’ll be very happy.” Lexie began to sink to her knees.

No. This wasn’t happening. Jessie put his hands around Lexie’s shoulders and lifted her back to her feet.

“It’s okay. I’m sort of not feeling it.”

“You’re fucking saying no?” Lexie was clearly offended that he was declining her, ah, hospitality.

“Don’t take it personally.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss. Her anger disappeared and was replaced with her tongue in his mouth. She tasted like the vodka and cranberry that Cowboy Devil was handing out in red plastic cups. Cowboy Devil was the newest fighter at the GWG. Jessie sure like his name. Yeah, he wasn’t into this chick.

It wasn’t easy, but he separated from her surprisingly good grip and opened the storeroom door.

“Sorry, Lexie. Just not into it. Go enjoy the party, though.”

She followed him into the hall.

“You’re a complete asshole, Jessie Hoolihan. You think you’re hot now that you’re a contender. Any one of these guys would be happy to bone me.”

Lexie slapped him in the face.

“That got violent really quickly. You’ve maybe had too much.” Jessie wasn’t into the drama, and he didn’t want to insult her, but Jesus, this was bullshit.

But before he could finish his sentence Lexie stormed down the hall back toward the gym. Her heels clicked loudly as she rounded the corner. He decided letting her storm off might be the safest bet. Crazy-ass bitch. Then he heard a small scuffle and glass hitting the floor. Great, more drama of some kind.

“Watch where you’re going!” It was Lexie’s slightly slurred voice.

Jessie walked the few feet down the and hall nearly slipped on a puddle of water and, what the heck? A rose? Dozens of roses. Then he spied the source of the debris.

“Òinsiche not lookin’ where she’s flyin’,” said the woman in a heap on the floor. The flowers spread out like a flower bomb around her.

Jessie took in a lot with one glance. He saw pure red hair spilling out of bun in several directions, he heard sputtering in a language that sounded like his grandpa’s version of Irish, he saw her water-doused her t-shirt, flowers, and glass. And he’d bet real money that some sort of invisible electricity crackled all around this red head.

Then, alarmingly, Jessie noticed a trickle of blood that she didn’t seem to notice flowing from her palm down the white skin of her forearm. All these quick impressions flooded his senses. Jessie processed the scene. Clearly, Lexie had crashed into this woman on her way out.

“Don’t move,” he said. She’d already cut her hand. Who knew what other shards of glass could catch her again?

“Why the devil not?” She looked up at him for the first time, and Jessie got another eyeful. Her eyes were deep blue, and there were freckles, hundreds of freckles, on her nose and her cheeks. They had the effect of diffusing an angry look she shot in his direction.

“You’ve already cut your hand on that shattered glass.” He said, and it prompted her to look down at her own hand.

“Ahck.” He’d heard that exact non-word from his grandmother more than a million times. It was adorable coming from this young woman.

Jessie put out a hand to her, and she hesitated for a moment but then used his hand to hoist up. Flowers fell to the floor, and a few more pieces of glass dropped off the long sweater she wore over that t-shirt that he noticed fit her just tight enough.

“What a right fine mess,” she said as she lifted her arms and looked at herself. Jessie looked too. He couldn’t stop looking. She was short; she came up to his chest, if that, but she seemed like a force of nature, like a gust of wind that had blown through the back hallway of the stuffy gym.

Who was this woman?

“Sorry about Lexie. She was pissed.”

“Yah, I gathered. Probably at you, aye?” The woman’s blue eye narrowed a bit as she looked at him.

“Guilty.”

“Well, I don’t even want to know what proper drama unfolded here.” When she said the world “here,” the “r” sound rolled on her tongue. It was like his own grandpa when he talked about his grandpa.

“It was nothing.”

“Aye, well, if you’re Jessie Hoolihan, this arrangement was for you. It is a feckin’ mess, though, now.” She lifted her hand, and more blood ran down the soft pad of her palm down her wrist.

“I am Jessie Hoolihan, and the flower carnage isn’t your fault. I won’t tell the boss.” Jessie saw the t-shirt said O’Shea’s Flower Shop on the front. Ah, she must be from the shop down the street, he realized as all the pieces came together.

“Much obliged. I’ll clean this up if you maybe show me where the mop is.” She looked around him to the storage closet.

“You need some first aid, and I plan to provide it.” Jessie was immediately interested in this Irish beauty who’d appeared with a crash and a shattering of glass so unexpectedly.

“Aye, I don’t really have time. I’ve got deliveries, and Aunt Theone will have a cow if I don’t stay on schedule.” Jessie had no idea what she was talking about, but he just liked hearing the sound of her voice.

“What’s your name?” he asked her and found he was plotting to try to make her stay longer even as he thought of extensive first aid procedures that were clearly essential.

“Ashling, Ash.” She smiled and looked down; a bit of a blush warmed her cheeks. Jessie found himself memorizing every little detail of this lass named Ash.

Jessie sent up a silent thank you to Lexie. Thanks to Lexie’s clumsy exit, Jessie Hoolihan’s night had taken the most interesting turn.

“Ash, we’re used to bloody messes around here, so follow me. And don’t fall on the wet floor.” He lightly guided her with a hand on her elbow and led her to the training room. He was going to take his sweet time on Ash’s cut. That was the game plan.

Jessie spent his life in one match or another.

If he knew anything, it was how to deploy a game plan, and the plan with this unexpected surprise was to make it last.