A week after I almost killed her surfing, Teegan comes into the shop after lunch sporting a huge grin.

“Did you just see Ryan Gosling or something?” I ask, watching the needle poke through the black fabric on Mrs. Winters’ dog’s bikini.

Unable to get the smile off her face, she shakes her head. “Better.”

“Better than Ryan Gosling?” I raise my eyebrows. I thought all women thought there was nothing better than Ryan Gosling. Something to do with that stupid Notebook movie.

“Yep.” She glances down and takes one giant leap over Cooper and seeks out her usual stool. He perks his head up for a second and then plops it back down. “Polka dots?”

I continue working the thread through the fabric. “Mrs. Winters loves her polka dots.” The worst part is sewing the appliqués on the clothes because they have to be hand-sewn.

She makes herself comfortable on the stool next to me, continuing to keep the information quiet that’s making her grin like a cat who’s cornered the mouse.

“What gives?”

“Well. I got us a television spot. We have to fly to New York, but this is huge.” She jumps off the stool, brimming with excitement.

“Television spot?”

“Yes.” She stands in front of me. “Next week. On Morning Time.” She does a little dance in place and then spins away like a toddler.

It’s impossible not to grin at her. “Okay.” I tie the thread and cut it from the fabric.

“Okay?” She stops twirling and dancing around the shop. “Are you not excited? I thought I just earned my pay check with this.” Her shoulders fall as does her smile.

“You did. It’s great.”

“Wait.” She holds her hand up. “Is there an ex who works for Morning Time?”

I chuckle. “No. No exes in New York.”

Her chest rises and falls and she spins again. “Good. Then be happy and dance with me.” Her arms are extended out and as much as I’d love to feel them wrapped around me, I’m not much of a dancer.

“I don’t show my happiness with dance moves.” I inspect the bikini one more time before placing it into my signature box, folding purple tissue paper over top.

“Really?” Her forehead crinkles like a confused pug’s. How any woman can be hot and cute at the same time is beyond me, but Teegan does it all the damn time.

I stack the boxes for Mrs. Winters and move to the front door, placing the closed sign on the door.

“You’re closing?”

“Yep. One of the perks of running your own business.” I lock the door and grab the bag full of Mrs. Winters’ new items.

“What’re you doing?” Teegan asks, hurrying behind the counter to grab her bag.

“I’m going to drop this off at Mrs. Winters’ place and then I’m going to work on the summer collection.”

She places her bag crossways over her body, the strap like a river between her perfectly proportioned tits. I blink and try my best to focus on putting the leash on Cooper.

“Can I come?”

“Sure.” I shrug.

“Well, if I’m interfering…”

I stop from walking to the back and wait for her to catch up to Coop and me. “No, I’m just surprised you don’t want an afternoon to yourself. You’ve been glued to my side for two weeks now.”

And you’re making it pretty damn difficult to keep acting like a gentleman.

She raises one of her shoulders. “I like working with you and I need to find more angles to explore to get you more visibility.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, let’s go out and celebrate tonight,” she says. “For getting the show.”

Why is she suddenly all over wanting to spend time with me? Crap, have I put myself in the friend zone? The way she looks at me sometimes I’d swear she feels this thing between us too, but maybe I’m delusional and the attraction is completely one-sided.

“I have plans, but you can join us.”

“Oh, I don’t want to interfere.”

“You’re more than welcome, Teegan.”

Her face loses its earlier excitement and she forces a smile. “Nah, you go. We’ll do something tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure.” I lock up the door and nod toward my truck.

“You know what? You’re right. I wouldn’t mind an afternoon to myself.” She walks backwards to her car.

“Really?” Cooper fights against the leash, wanting to follow Teegan. Can’t say I blame him.

“Yeah, a girl needs some pampering every now and then.” A forced smile crosses her face. “See you later.”

“Are you all right?” I ask, wondering what I did.

“I’m fine, but tomorrow, I’m buying you lunch!” She points and then ducks into her car before I can say anything else.

Teegan’s old car sputters away and my hand rubs up and down Cooper’s back.

“I have no idea what that one’s thinking,” I mumble, watching her turn into the traffic. The person she cuts off honks their horn at her.

Then she’s gone. I should’ve cancelled my plans with Oscar tonight, but he threatened to hold up production if I bail on him again.

I insert the keys and turn them in the ignition. My body is strung way too tight. I press my Bluetooth speaker button. “Call Jagger.”

The phone rings and Cooper plops down on the seat next to me, drool falling from his lips.

“How’s the doggie business?” Jagger answers.

“Meet me at the boxing ring.”

He laughs and the pen tapping on his desk stops. “That PR chick’s got you wound up tight.”

“It’s not her.”

He laughs. “Sure, it isn’t. You’re just as bad as Vance was.”

“Hell, no. I know not to fuck the hand that’s helping me, but damn, that hand would look mighty good around my cock.”

He’s silent.

“Even though it worked out for Vance, I won’t cross the line.” I feel like I’m convincing myself, not Jagger.

He’s silent still.

“She’s doing great as my PR rep so far. Nothing good could come of pursuing my interest in her.”

Finally, Jagger speaks up. “Don’t blame me for not taking the bet on you not fucking your PR rep.”

As long as I’ve known him, he’s acted like a big brother toward Vance and I—as if it’s his duty or something.

“So? What about boxing?”

“Give me forty.”

“Sounds good.”

The line dies, and I press the button to end the call. I crack my neck, eager to get all this tension out of my body. Somehow, I’m not sure it’s going to help.

* * *

“Fuck.” My gloved hand covers my stomach again. “This is sparring, jackass.”

The six-foot-five guy I’ve been stuck in the ring with—since Jagger has yet to show up—seems to think we’re the next Mayweather and McGregor.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, bouncing from foot to foot.

“Take it down a notch.”

He nods a few times and then we approach each other again. I knew I should’ve just done the bags until Jagger’s ass shows up.

I bob and weave from my opponent’s fists and jab him in the ribcage. It doesn’t faze him because the man must live at this place.

“You cheating on me, man?” Jagger slides under the ropes. He’s decked out in his black athletic shorts, mouthpiece, and headgear.

“You’re late,” I say while dodging the guy’s fist.

My opponent stands there watching us. Jagger’s gaze follows my vision. “You can go now. Thanks for keeping my guy busy until I arrived.”

I roll my eyes, fighting a smirk. “Thanks a lot.” I place my gloved fist in front of the guy.

“Anytime.” The big oaf hits the top of my glove and then steps out of the ring.

Jagger bounces from foot to foot, acting like he’s Rocky before his big fight.

“Listen. That guy already beat the shit out of me, so let’s keep this easy, okay?”

“Easy?” He ducks and weaves his head from side to side.

Remind me why I called him again? “Yeah, easy.”

“All right, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle. Just the tip.” He winks and then approaches me.

We spar for a good five minutes, the only sound our grunts and the landing of our hits. Intergalactic by the Beastie Boys blasts through the speakers and Jagger starts messing around, acting more like he’s at the club than in a boxing ring.

“Stop dancing,” I say, stepping forward and swinging my fist to his cheek.

He dodges me. “Live a little.”

I can tell you one thing for sure. I’d rather watch Teegan dance in front of me than this jackass. The way her ass shook and her tits jiggled. It’s been difficult to try to get out of my head. I’m not even sure what I like more about her—her beauty, her personality or her work ethic. The woman is constantly on her computer or her phone, trying to make things happen. I’m pretty sure I’m her only client.

“Stop thinking about the chick.” Jagger moonwalks across the mat.

“I’m not.”

He spins on the balls of his feet and points his gloved hand my way. “You are. You could fire her and then fuck her. She’d be pissed off at you and everyone knows that a hate-fuck tops them all.”

“Can we get back to boxing?” I shift my weight from one foot to the other and back again.

“You called me here to talk, not to fight.”

“Not true.”

“True.” The song ends and he steps closer to me, finally positioning himself into a boxing stance. “Otherwise you would’ve come here by yourself. Admit it. You want me to convince you not to screw her.” He winks. Sometimes he thinks he’s so superior that it’s annoying, but damn if he doesn’t have a point. “If your mind was made up you would’ve called Vance and he would have said ‘look at me and my fairy tale come true’ and you would’ve run right out of here to her.”

“The cocky, arrogant asshole isn’t your best look.”

He chuckles, his fist weaving over my head as I duck. “Ha. It’s my only look, or hadn’t you noticed?”

“One day you’re gonna get your ass kicked.” I chuckle and hammer him right in the face, a tad harder than I intended.

“Watch the face, asshole.” He steps back into the ropes.

“Come on, pretty boy.” I wave him forward with my gloves. “Let’s shift the conversation your way.”

He comes toward me, the promise of payback in his eyes. “Pretty soon I’m going to tell you to fuck her so that you can work your aggression out. I’m not the fucking punching bag.”

“Let’s just spar and quit the bullshit.” I start bouncing on the balls of my feet and we circle each other a few times.

“I didn’t know you guys were here.” Mark, the gym manager, stands next to the ring.

“I’m just kicking his ass,” Jagger says, hammering a punch right to my ribs. I slide back away before coming toward him again.

“He wishes.” I go toward his face and he dodges and then stops.

“Not the face,” he says.

Mark laughs. “Good thing you aren’t looking for a career in boxing,” Mark says.

“No shit, right?” I say, giving Jagger a two-punch on both sides of his stomach.

My movement fuels Jagger’s competitive side and he picks up the intensity. Mark disappears and our casual sparring turns more physical with us dancing around one another, fists flying, both of us out for the other’s blood. I aim for his face to unnerve him and he jabs my stomach more than a few times.

“Time’s up, boys.” Mark rings the bell and we both collapse on the mat.

“Thanks,” I say to Jagger and sit up, resting my forearms on my knees.

“Anytime. I think I needed it more than I thought.” Jagger mimics my stance and we smile at one another. “Seriously though, don’t bang her until you fire her.”

He has to hammer down that last piece of brotherly advice. He did the same thing to Vance when he was interested in Layla. He’s right, it may have been subconsciously, but I asked him here to remind me why I can’t touch Teegan’s sweet ass.

“Who’s the suit?” Jagger asks Mark, nodding toward a guy walking around with one of the trainers.

“Lucas? He owns all the Xtreme gyms.”

Jagger and I both look over at the guy more likely to adorn the cover of GQ magazine than step into this ring. Mark must recognize the look on our faces.

“Don’t underestimate him. He used to box in the amateur series up in San Francisco. Then he got married and had a few kids. He could kick both of your asses.” Mark’s smiling face says he’s just trying to razz us.

“Fuck that,” Jagger says.

“Upset that you don’t have the biggest bank account here?” Mark laughs and I join in.

Jagger’s head whips in his direction. “Fuck that. I do too.”

Mark’s tongue clicks off the roof of his mouth. “I think you’re wrong.”

While Mark and I find amusement in this, Jagger looks disappointed. One day he’ll have to realize it’s not the suit you wear, the car you drive, or how much money you have that makes you the person you are. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great friend—obviously, since he dropped everything to meet me here—but the man thinks his worth is tied to those things.

“Think of it this way. He’s married, so at least you have more women than him.” I pat Jagger’s back and stand up to make room for the next guys in the ring.

“Damn right.” He follows me through the ropes. “Let’s go out tonight. With these fresh marks, you can get that chick out of your head and I’ll find some new chicks.”

“I’m meeting Oscar tonight. You can come.”

An annoyed huff leaves his mouth. “Not exactly the chicks I was hoping for.”

“He’s threatening to stop working for me if I don’t join him.”

“He’s such a drama queen. He’s just trying to recruit you to swing for his team.”

We walk into the locker room and I grab my t-shirt from my bag. I look down my nose at him. “Pretty sure he knows I don’t.”

“I’m out tonight. Last time, those guys at the bar had a hard time accepting no.” He grabs his shower stuff.

“Everyone wants a piece of Jagger Kale,” I joke.

“Isn’t that the truth.” He shakes his head. “Call me later.” He disappears into the shower area and I grab my duffle bag, heading out of the gym to head home for a shower.

A night at the gay bar is not going to get Teegan out of my mind. It seems these days nothing will.