Bridget watched Nolan’s fast-retreating back as he fled the break room. What in the world was his deal? You’d think he’d never asked a woman out before. Bridget paused but then dismissed the errant thought. Nolan was just nervous.

What a freaking day. No sooner had she started her afternoon sparring session with Tig, than Tommy, the matchmaker from Southland Promotions, called, indeed expressing interest in a local match. Ten minutes later, the fight club was buzzing and Bridget was more excited than she had been in years, about anything.

Three days. Well, two and a half, really, until her camp started. In sixty hours she was going to be eating, sweating, and sleeping mixed martial arts, but until then, she had a lot of little stuff to get done. She set off to her little house, mentally making a list of tasks.

Three loads of laundry later, Bridget was lying flat on her back in the middle of the sofa, avoiding doing the chore she liked least: folding clothes. She detested folding clothes and putting them away, and she had the half-empty drawers and closet to prove it.

“I need a house elf,” she grumbled to herself as she sorted socks from underwear.

Generally, the two nights before training were spent not necessarily in full-blown debauchery, but in some sort of indulgence, especially of the carnal sort, and here she was, combing through her unmentionables. She held up a particularly threadbare pair of panties—she needed to do some shopping. She gathered up clothing and wandered into the bedroom to put things away, finally.

She pulled open the top drawer, and the last set of fancy lingerie she’d purchased stared her in the face. She’d literally burned the set she’d gotten for that disastrous weekend rendezvous—put the expensive set in a metal garbage pail and set it on fire.

This set was a pair she’d gotten right after she moved home. Funnily enough, her mother suggested she get some new things. Bridget had thought she just meant clothes, but her mother had taken her to an upscale lingerie shop in Copley Place and told her to pick out something she liked. She and her mother had both cried when she’d tried on the set, and then the sales attendant had wrapped it up. Bridget had taken it home and not looked at it again until that moment. She took the top off the box and ran her fingers over the soft lace. The delicate items were the girliest things she’d ever owned.

She sighed, replaced the lid, and then slid the box back into its place in the top drawer. Maybe she’d have somewhere worthy to wear the set soon. Grabbing the laundry basket, she went back into the living to tackle the pile of T-shirts. She’d just hauled the giant pile into her lap when a knock and Annie’s voice calling, “Hello!” granted her a reprieve. Bridget leapt from the couch and opened the door so quickly that Annie still had her fist raised to knock.

“Oh! Hi! I didn’t know if you were here, but I thought you might want to come over tonight for dinner. Pierce filled in last minute at Foley’s, and we have way too much to eat. So, please?” She pressed her hands together, and Bridget laughed. How could she say no to that?

Annie and Bridget lazed on the back porch of Annie’s house after dinner, enjoying the cooler early evening air. Bridget was very thankful that they ate outside, because she didn’t know if she could handle sitting at that dining room table.

“Pierce told me you have a fight, Bridget. Are you excited?”

“It’s not for sure yet. The matchmaker’s doing his thing, but we have to deal with Jett Raptor.”

“Oh no. Oh, I don’t like that Raptor guy at all. He’s a jerk.” Annie’s pretty face darkened in a frown. “He’s always causing issues for DS Fight Club.”

“Right? So who knows if it will actually come through. We’ll see. I hope it does.”

“I don’t see how you do it, Bridget.”

“Do what?”

“Fight. I don’t like getting punched.”

Bridget barked a laugh. “I don’t like getting punched, either. That’s why I try to do the punching.” Annie was gazing out over the yard at the Atlanta skyline that peeked over the top of the trees. “But you didn’t mean that kind of punching or fighting, did you, Annie?”

Annie chuckled but didn’t look at Bridget. “No, I suppose not. But that hasn’t happened in a long time, thank goodness. Pierce would never, ever lay a finger on me. Ever.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Annie looked at Bridget. “You never had to deal with any of that, did you?”

“Physical stuff? No. Kevin knew I wasn’t afraid to defend myself, and I would have won if physical push came to shove. No, Kevin’s bullshit was much more insidious. Lots of little things that added up, and then the whole affair thing. That was big, but it wasn’t insurmountable, at least until the end.”

“What’s he like?”

“Kevin?” Annie nodded, and Bridget huffed a breath and thought about what she was going to say for a moment before she continued. “Kevin Donahue is a little banty rooster who is always looking for the next big thing. There’s always some business opportunity that he absolutely has to take advantage of right now, and it never, ever pans out.”

“He sounds like Nanda’s ex, but maybe smarter.” Annie clapped her hand over her mouth in surprise, and Bridget laughed. “Don’t tell her I said that. Oh, goodness.”

Bridget continued chuckling. She and Nanda had had discussions about their exes, and yes, Kevin and Nanda’s Gino were of a similar breed.

“So you said that Kevin was a ‘banty rooster,’ huh?”

“Yeah, he is. He’s about Tig’s build, but shorter. I can look him right in the eye.” Bridget snorted. “Not that it mattered or kept him honest, you know. Why?”

“He’s very different from Nolan, then.”

Nolan?

“Nolan? What?”

Annie’s eyes popped again. “You two aren’t  . . . you know?”

“What do you mean, ‘you know’?”

Annie raised her brows up comically high and did a hilarious two two-lidded wink. “You know you know.”

Bridget guffawed. “No!” But then she sighed. “No, we’re not ‘you know.’ But he did ask me out today.”

“Oh, you should go. He seems like a sweetheart. And he can move that big body of his around a dance floor.”

“He can, can’t he? I was kind of surprised.” Bridget watched the fireflies dance around the yard. “I told him that we’d see in eight weeks.”

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“Terrified.” Bridget swallowed hard. Her inadvertent admission caused all sorts of feelings to percolate within her, emotions she’d kept tamped down hard. Her divorce freed her from all the crap that had been weighing her down for the past few years. And Nolan Harper made her want to maybe dip her big toe in the pool again.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that I’ll want to dive in headfirst, only it’ll be in the shallow end and I’ll end up bloodied and bruised.”

“But what if it’s in the deep end and there’s someone with a life preserver waiting for you, though?” Annie scooted to the end of her chair and put her hands on Bridget’s knees. “I think you should do it, Bridget. Take a chance. My gosh, woman, you kick people in the liver for a living. You’re brave! That big bear of a man has nothing on you.”

Bridget laughed through her sniffles and nodded. She owed it to herself to take a chance. How bad could it be, right?