Reeve didn’t see the strike coming. The firm blow to his jaw had his ears ringing and eyes blurring. He twisted away from his opponent and spit the pooling blood from his mouth.

“Jesus, man, sorry. I never expected you to actually take that one,” his friend and army pal Tyler Cavallo said. “You need to get out of your head or something before I beat your ass for real.”

“No shit,” Reeve mumbled. He moved his jaw back and forth, adjusting to the pain on the inside of his cheek where his tooth had obviously come into contact. Damn that had hurt, and he didn’t usually let Tyler get the drop on him. Something he was pretty proud of considering that not only was Tyler a big guy himself, but he used to fight dirty for real. First underground as a misspent youth, and then legit professional MMA. It had all ended when he’d enlisted in the army, but he still had a crazy mean right hook.

“Come on, sugar, I’ll go easy on you from here on out.” Tyler chuckled from across the ring, bouncing from one bare foot to the other. The guy never stood still.

“Fuck you,” Reeve said as he got back into stance. They circled, bobbing and weaving, until Reeve saw the slightest movement from Tyler as he began to lunge in. Reeve slipped to the right and then came back with a counter hook. Tyler tried to evade him, but Reeve caught the side of his head.

Tyler took it like a man and backed up, laughing. “You’re welcome.”

“Asshole,” Reeve said as he pulled off his gloves.

“Aw, come on. I didn’t want you going out like that.”

Reeve rubbed his sore jaw. His luck he’d probably have a hell of a bruise. They’d been at it for over half an hour, so without speaking they both left the ring and headed for the front of the gym to lift some weights. Tyler owned Excel Gym and MMA training center and thankfully gave Reeve, and the other guys in their unit at the Guard, a dirt-cheap membership fee. When he’d joined three years ago Reeve wouldn’t have guessed he’d end up spending many of his mornings and Saturday evenings fighting his buddy, but it was something they’d grown to enjoy.

Building his own business had been slower than he would have liked. At this point it might have been nice to have a woman to be home with on the weekends, maybe even take some nice trips with a couple of times a year. But no, he was single, still trying to grow Big Blue Landscaping, and the only trip he took was his required two-week training mission every summer with the Guard. He didn’t mind any of that, but at thirty-one he was starting to wonder . . . what next?

Reeve sat down on the closest machine—lat pulls—and gripped the bars on each side. He gave a good tug and the bar swung down too fast. “Shit.”

He let the weights clatter down on the other side and stood up. Why hadn’t he adjusted the pin before he started? He added more weight and then headed back to the seat.

Tyler sat on the bench across from him, eyebrow up, odd grin on his face.

“What?” Reeve asked.

“You tell me what.” Tyler leaned over and rested his elbows onto his knees, eyebrow still cocked. “Something’s off about you. Your mom okay?”

Reeve shook his head. Tyler knew his mother struggled with health and mental issues, but he had no idea she was a hoarder. That was information a person just didn’t offer up. “I’m fine, my mom’s fine. I just . . . have a lot on my mind.”

He sat back down, facing away from his friend’s prying gaze. Tyler was good at reading people, a skill honed from living through a lot of his own shit. He now worked with a lot of troubled teens in the gym, coaching and mentoring them free of charge. The guy was on a mission to keep the troubled youth of Kansas out of trouble one at a time. One of the reasons why he had no fear of real talk, unlike most men Reeve knew. Including himself.

Gripping the bar once more, he tested the weight a little, and then went to work on his reps, blowing out a breath with each pull.

He could still feel Tyler’s eyes on the back of his head.

“Something going on with the business?” Tyler tried again.

Reeve pushed out a hard breath and then answered as his arms went up. “No. It’s good.”

“You seeing someone?”

“Dude.” Reeve let the metal clank down again and turned on his seat. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Tyler just lifted both hands in acquiescence. “I almost knocked you out. You’re distracted. What’s going on?”

“Fine,” he gritted out. “I met a woman.”

Tyler grinned. “Yeah? Then what’s the problem?”

Reeve leaned forward and pointed at Tyler. “I’ll tell you what the problem is. I took her home, let her use and abuse me, and then she slipped out without giving me her number. The only thing I have left of her is a headband covered in dicks.”

“Use and abuse you, huh? I don’t usually mind a little abuse. And what the hell is with this headband?”

“It was a bachelorette party. You know the bullshit they wear.”

“Sleeping with a bachelorette party attendee was your first mistake.”

“Yeah, maybe. But there was something different about this woman.”

“So, what you’re saying is that the saying is true. Karma is indeed a bitch.”

Reeve sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, that’s not really helping.”

Tyler chuckled. “Man, we’re a good way into the Internet age, surely you can find her. We live in Manhattan, Kansas, for fuck’s sake. How hard can it be?”

“You’d think.” Reeve lowered his voice. “But she lied to me about her name.”

Tyler hissed and shook his head. “Damn, dude. You got played.”

“I knew she was doing it. She knew I knew she was doing it. I just didn’t think I cared that much.”

“But now you do.”

“Well . . . obviously.” It was kind of nice to talk to someone about this, but he refused to give all the details about what had gone down. The truth was, despite that bullshit, it was great sex. She’d been so hot, so raw and real. Tyler was right. He had been distracted by his thoughts of her, and now he had a fat lip to prove it.

The entire time he’d been in the ring, the real fight had been going on in his head: To go back to the Deuce tonight and see if she showed or not? Was it possible she’d been thinking about him, too, wishing they’d been more honest with each other? Did she regret leaving the way she had?

Probably not. He recalled the way she’d told the bartender off that night. She was tough, no-nonsense. Said what she wanted—what she demanded—and didn’t back down.

Damn, the woman had well and truly used him. She probably hadn’t even thought about him since. That really stung. More than he ever would have thought. Stung enough for him to want some answers. Or another turn. It was a long shot, but he only had one lead.

“What are you doing after this?” Reeve asked Tyler, who had finally lain back and started bench presses. Tyler lifted the bar onto the rack and set it down before sitting back up.

“I have a kid coming in.”

“Tonight? It’s nearly ten.”

“His sister works nights so sometimes that’s when he comes. It’s either that or roam the streets. I have a feeling if she knew, she’d prefer him being with me.”

Reeve took in the sight of his buddy, all six feet and two hundred pounds of solid, tatted muscle. He had Latin script across his upper chest, below that a set of Roman numerals that Reeve knew to be the date his brother had been killed in action. The phrase ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE was written above the American flag on his right bicep, and on his left was a snarling pit bull. Reeve’s lips quirked. “I don’t know about that, man. You look like a felon. A patriotic felon, but still.”

Tyler laughed. He knew it was true and he was laid-back enough to take it. “Yeah, well, this kid might actually become one if he’s not careful. His sister leaves him alone all the damn time. I’m ready to knock on her door and have a few words.”

Reeve was about to respond when Tyler gave him a firm look and stood up quickly. A lanky young man walked through the gym toward them, and Tyler grinned at him. “Hey, man. Glad you could make it. Meet my buddy, Reeve. Reeve, this is Caleb.”

Reeve stood up and held out a hand to the hunched-over youth. He couldn’t be any older than sixteen and although physically his punk level was through the charts, there was a wariness about him. Reeve could see why Tyler felt the need to help these kids.

The young man reluctantly reached his own hand out, shaking Reeve’s weakly but not making eye contact. Reeve spoke up. “Nice to meet you, Caleb. I hope Tyler’s not kicking your ass too bad. Between you and me, I find his weakest spot to be his nuts. Just sayin’.”

Tyler chuckled, punching Reeve in the arm. But it worked. Caleb’s eyes rose, a small smile lifting at the corner of his lips. “Isn’t that the weak spot for all guys?”

Reeve looked at Tyler. “Smart one here.”

“The nuts and the heart. When the right woman comes along, that is. Right, Reeve?”

Reeve slid him an annoyed look and picked up his towel from the lat pull machine. “Shut up. Have fun, you guys. I’m out.”

He headed for the locker room. Turning the shower to hot, Reeve stood under the nozzle and let the water run over his face. He was not going to go out to the Deuce. Nope, not going to do it.

Twenty minutes later he was on his bike heading north.

He was one weak son of a bitch, after all. Damn woman.

* * *

Apparently, there were a handful of interesting creatures that roamed the grocery store aisles at midnight on a Saturday. They consisted of a group of giggly teenage girls buying armloads of toilet paper, a blurry-eyed dad buying formula and diapers, and even a stoned-out young man buying pizza rolls and Mountain Dew.

Emily realized she was the most pathetic of those creatures. Single woman feeling sorry for herself. Why had she gotten a full-sized cart? It only attracted attention to the humiliating contents: potato chips, French onion dip, wine coolers, and tabloid magazines. She should have picked up a handbasket so the only person who could judge her was the cashier.

For a long moment she stared at the end cap full of snack cakes and then finally settled on something that contained a lot of peanut butter and chocolate. On her way back to the front of the store she reached out and snagged a bag of grapes for good measure.

She’d been so close to going back to the Deuce tonight. Even going as far as showering and doing her hair and makeup. But as she’d stood in her closet deciding what outfit looked the least desperate, she’d just said “fuck it” and grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. After washing off her makeup and throwing her hair in a ponytail, she’d resorted to working for a few hours. And then the self-pity cravings had hit hard, so here she was.

The sleep-deprived dad was just finishing up at the register when Emily began to unload her cart onto the conveyor belt. At the last minute she grabbed another magazine, a pack of gum, and a PayDay, tossing them down alongside the grapes and other garbage.

A twenty-something female with a sloppy ponytail and a heavy hand with the eyeliner began to scan Emily’s items without as much as a hello. That is, until she swiped the French onion dip and a loud beep rang out. She tried it again. Beep. The young woman rolled her eyes and called to someone over Emily’s shoulder.

“Trevor, this French onion dip isn’t scanning. Will you go see how much it is?” She glanced down at the tub and then called out again. “Twenty-four-ounce family size.”

Emily let her eyes fall shut. Thank God it was midnight and barely anyone was there.

The sound of glass bottles jingling behind her pulled Emily’s attention down to the conveyor, where she saw a six-pack of Bud Light. Of course. And now they had to wait on her price check. She turned back to give the customary sorry-I’m-taking-so-long smile and shrug, then froze, mouth halfway open.

“Family-sized French onion dip at midnight, huh? You sound like my kind of woman.”

Whipping her head back around, Emily took a moment to process the depths of the humiliation that rolled through her body. Could this really be happening? The one human on earth she would most wish to avoid in this scenario just happened to be there? It wasn’t as if Manhattan was that big, and she knew he lived somewhat close, but . . . really? Three times in one week.

She turned back, fake smile in place. “Funny seeing you here.” Her words were delivered in a teasing manner, but she was trying desperately to conceal her flustered state.

“It is pretty funny. And also, fortuitous.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Big word.”

He rested his hip against the checkout counter. “There’s more to me than just a good time, Whip.”

“Good to know. But still . . . this is odd.” She glanced around. “Are you following me?”

He barked out a laugh before stepping closer to her. “If I’d known how to find you all this time, Sarah, you can be damn sure I would have already shown myself by now.”

She sucked in a breath. If only he knew the irony in that comment. He had found her job, her tree, and he was slowly finding all her weaknesses. In fact, she recalled that she was wearing no makeup, no hair product, and no panties under her yoga pants. As if he was aware of that fact, he gave her a wicked grin before speaking deep and low.

“I think this is what you might call a divine intervention.”

She shook her head in exasperation, forcing her smile to stay hidden. With a glance at the cashier who was busy scrolling through her phone, Emily leaned in just a little so he could hear her speak quietly. “I really doubt that God is interested in reacquainting one-night stands.”

This time he leaned in, their faces now a foot apart. “Mm, I don’t know, he might be feeling kind, since you did do a lot of screaming out his name that night.”

Emily glared at him. “Yeah . . . eventually.”

His eyes narrowed. “Low blow, Whip. Real low. You must get off on busting balls, huh?”

Emily’s mouth dropped open at the same time a muffled laugh followed by a cough came from the cashier. Turning back to the register, Emily could barely meet the young woman’s eyes. “You know what, we can skip the dip. Just go ahead and total me up.”

The cashier shrugged, but before she could put her phone down and process the request, Emily reached out and grabbed Reeve’s six-pack of beer. “Add this on. I owe him a thank-you.”

“Oh no you don’t.” His warm hand covered hers and slid the beer back toward him. He didn’t let go as he continued, loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear. “That eventual satisfied glow on your face was all the payment I needed.”

Emily squeezed her eyes shut and didn’t speak for a moment out of mortification. She yanked her hand from beneath his and then looked at the young woman, who was now fully engaged in the two people in her checkout line.

“Sooo . . . no French onion dip and no beer.”

“Correct,” Emily replied.

“Okay, that will be forty-three dollars and twenty-two cents.”

Emily swiped her credit card through the machine, pushed the necessary buttons, and then gathered up her bags before turning back to Reeve to find him slapping a ten-dollar bill down in front of the woman.

“Keep the change.” Then his eyes went serious as they met Emily’s. “You. Outside,” he ordered.

She pursed her lips but obeyed since she was already heading that way. But she intended to give him a piece of her mind the minute they exited the building. No man was going to order her about. Okay, maybe if they were in bed, and the situation warranted it, but no. That would never happen between them again, thank you very much.

The automatic doors parted for the two of them and Emily headed into the cool evening, sucking in a breath before she let loose.

“Why did you sneak out of my bed last week?” Reeve said as soon as he hit the sidewalk. So much for going first. She turned hard on her heel and leveled him with her best boardroom-meeting glare.

“Oh that’s rich, Mister Dive-Bar-Picker-Upper. Do you expect me to believe that every woman you go home with has the pleasure of waking up to you romantically spooning her as the sun rises?”

He breathed in deep through his nose, lips tight. “We’re talking about us.”

“Us? There is no us. We had a one-night stand. Do not insult me by pretending to be unfamiliar with the concept. I know your type.”

His head snapped back in shock; then his eyes narrowed, turning hostile. “Oh no, I’m very familiar with it. But I don’t remember you and me putting a label on things.”

“Does anyone ever put a label on it? It’s a universal understanding that when two people meet in a shithole under the influence of alcohol, and then go home and have hot sex, it’s a one-night stand. I’m sorry if that offends your masculine sensibilities.” And why was she being such a bitch? Oh yeah, because this was tough-as-nails Emily. The one who put the safety checks in place. She was pulling up the drawbridge—so to speak—with every word she tossed at him. This was the Emily who had firmly talked desperate Emily out of going to the Deuce all evening.

He tilted his head to the side a little, his lips twitching. “It was hot as hell. Despite the . . . upset. Admit it.”

“Isn’t that what I just did?”

He took a step toward her, his lip quirking. “Say it again.”

Emily dropped her shoulders, feeling her resolve weakening. God, he smelled so damn good. Looked so damn good, too. And hadn’t she just been thinking about him all night? For the love of all that was holy, she’d done herself up tonight in the hope she’d run into him again. And here he was in the parking lot of Dillons grocery store.

“Say it. Tell me how hot it was between us because I can see you thinking about it in that cute head of yours.”

“Okay.” Her tone was all agitation. “It was hot but I do not have a cute head.”

“Fine, you have a sexy head. And a sexy body and a sexy—”

“That’s enough.” Her eyes went to his lips. She frowned. “Do you have a fat lip?”

His hand went to his mouth and he smirked. “Got in a fight tonight.”

“What? Are you okay?” She instinctively reached for his face but quickly realized she was inhibited by her grocery bags. Reeve hadn’t missed her intention and stepped closer.

“Not that kind of fight. A friend and I at the gym. But I sure liked seeing how much you care.”

Emily rolled her eyes.

He managed to grin and speak at the same time. “Let me come over.”

“You’re crazy.” Was he really asking for another turn? And why was she suddenly considering it?

“Let me come home with you. We can do it all over again. Get it right this time. And by right, I mean you come first. As it should be.”

Oh Lord, he was too damn good at this. And she just . . . couldn’t. Shouldn’t. It had been too right the first time. “If you recall, I sneaked out of your bed, therefore making a conscious choice not to exchange personal information with you. What makes you think I want back in?”

“Well, technically I just requested to get into your bed, but I’m not picky. You want back in mine, I’d be happy to let you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He grinned, stepping deeper into her personal space. Emily’s bag of junk food clunked against her leg. “Just you. I want you again. Let me have you.”

Was that what she wanted? His gaze drank her in, from her eyes to her lips, her chest, and back up to her eyes again.

Unequivocally, yes, she wanted this. His body, voice, and mouth were all she’d thought about over the past week. And nothing sounded more appealing than having it all to herself again.

“This time we put a label on it.” She heard herself saying the words and didn’t recognize her own voice. Emily Phillips did not act recklessly once, let alone twice. But here she was putting down her qualifications. Another transaction in the making.

His expression said he wasn’t happy with her ultimatum but didn’t seem surprised by it all the same. “I’ll let that be your call, babe.”

She ignored the endearment, or at least tried to. It was hard to ignore anything about this man, especially words spoken in that sexy voice. “My call is that we label it The Last Time.”

He appeared to be considering her words when he finally let a slow smile stretch over his face. “I’ll let you say that now, but I won’t hold you to it until I’m done with you.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

He winked. “We’ll see. Now follow me home.”

With that he walked toward his bike and Emily shuffled over to her car, praying he didn’t notice what kind it was. That might lead to questions. But on the upside, she was doing this. She was going to have repeat sex with Reeve. It sure was a divine intervention.