“Guys, I’ve got some great news. I’ve been looking for someone to bring in here to take over the business end of things for me and I’ve found the perfect person,” my father says glancing around the gym. He’s not yelling but immediately has the full attention of the rough looking men now standing around pouring sweat all over the black mats. He’s well respected by them all, as he should be. He’s known for making champions and fighters come from all over the country to work with him.

“From day one all I’ve wanted to do is build great fighters and I’ve never been able to devote as much time as I wanted to doing that. But now,” he places his arm around my shoulders and glances down at me, his light blue eyes sparkling with pride, “my youngest daughter Reagan is going to step in as the general manager. She just graduated from college with a degree in business and I’m sure she’ll have this place running tip-top in no time.”

Smiling up at my dad, I hear the guys clapping. My eyes bounce around the motley crew of half-naked sweaty male bodies before locking on one in particular – Noah Nolan.

Crap. I knew he still trained here and I’d have to see him at some point. I was just hoping it would be later – a lot later.

He was one of my dad’s young up and coming fighters when we dated during my senior year of high school. We were a couple for six months and I thought the sun rose and set on him. I was convinced we were the real deal, sickeningly writing Mrs. Nolan over and over in my notebook at school. Just thinking about it now is enough to make me roll my eyes.  

He broke my heart and everyone around me saw it coming; everyone except me. I gave him my virginity on prom night and he gave our relationship the axe the next morning when he dropped me off at my house. He callously mentioned I was a distraction he couldn’t afford. He needed to focus all his energy on his training. Fighting was his future; not me – blah, blah, blah.

I can still remember our last words as if it all happened yesterday. He flashed a quick smile and a wink when he opened my door. “I’m sorry. Thanks for being so understanding.”

I didn’t say a single word. My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth and my heart was in my throat. He knocked the wind right out of me. He might as well have punched me.

Focusing on taking my next breath impeded my ability to think of a witty comeback when he kissed me one last time. He got back in his car and was gone in the blink of an eye.

To this day, I wish I’d handled that situation better. I wish I’d acted as though it didn’t bother me, but I’m not that good of an actress.

He broke my heart and I’ve never been the same since. He’s the reason I’ve avoided this place like the plague.

Today is the first time I’ve been back here since. I can’t believe the asshole is standing in the same room as me right now, his devilish brown eyes locked on mine. I swear I can see him fighting against that ever-present smirk about to appear on his lips. My natural instinct is for my eyes to flee, but I force myself to keep my gaze connected to his. This is only the first battle and I need to start off strong. He can’t know that as cool and unaffected as I appear on the outside, I’m a giant mess of nerves on the inside. My knees are practically knocking and my stomach is churning like I’m sailing the high seas in the middle of a brutal Nor’easter.

“I want everyone to go out of their way to make Reagan feel welcome,” my dad continues. “I’m expecting big things from her. She has some great ideas and I can’t wait to see what direction she takes this place in.” He slides his arm from around me. “Reagan say a few words,” he directs, putting me on the spot.

Shoot. I don’t have anything prepared. Guess I’m going to have to wing it.

“Thanks for the warm welcome. Most of the faces I see are new to me, but I used to be a fixture here when I was a kid. I’m glad to be back and my dad’s right; I do have big plans for this place. I look forward to getting to know you all.”

Some of the guys clap again and there are a few wolf whistles mixed in.

“Hey, none of that,” my dad says with a scowl and laughter fills the room.

I poke him in the side. “Dad, I’m twenty-two years old. I can handle myself.”

He smiles. “I know you can. I’m the one who taught you everything you know.” He winks.

I cringe when I think of the hours we spent on the sweat covered mats working on grappling techniques and what if scenarios. Dad desperately wanted a son to pass down his knowledge to and he ended up with three daughters. My sisters took up dancing and that left me to be the tomboy of the bunch.

“I can handle anything they throw at me, Dad.”

But what about Noah? Can I handle whatever he throws at me?

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