You wish.
Her reply forces a chuckle to erupt in the back of my throat and catches the attention of the other guys on the job. I haven’t worked on one of my uncle’s crews since before my fighting career took off. I’m not scared of the hard work, or the early wake up call, because those are two things I’m no stranger to. But working under someone else’s thumb, having to ask for everything—including a trip to the john—is something I’m having to reacquaint myself to.
“Break time’s over, big shot,” the site supervisor calls over to me. He’s a condescending asshole and going out of his way to let me know who’s boss around here. I get it, I do. He doesn’t want me to receive special treatment simply because my uncle signs the paychecks, but he’s still a total dick about it.
“Don’t mind him. He gets his rocks off on feeling important,” one of the guys on the job says out of earshot. “I’m Jesse.”
“Matt.” I hold out my hand to return the shake. His grip is firm and I’d guess he’s about the same age as me, give or take a few years.
“Haywood, yeah. I’ve seen you fight before. You own that gym now, South Side?”
“That’s me.”
“Your brush strokes as good as your left hook?” He grins and nods across the room. We’ve spent the past hour prepping the space by taping down a shitload of plastic. The floor is huge and there’s more to be done, but boss gave us a fifteen-minute break before getting back at it.
“I hope not.” I chuckle at my own joke. “But I think I’m here for the grunt work anyway.”
“Good.” He nods over to our supervisor. The dude’s heading our way, splitting the crew into more specific tasks. “Carl,” Jesse says, and our supervisor glances over. “You mind if I bring him with me to get the paint? Seems like he could handle the fifteen gallons okay.”
“Yeah,” Carl nods, his lips ticking up with what must be his grin. “Grab him when you need him. ’Til then, Haywood, I need you prepping those offices. Start over there.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, but Carl doesn’t seem impressed.
Giving a once over that reveals his distaste for me, he nods back to Jesse. “Actually, Jesse. Why don’t you show him how it’s done? Don’t need some rookie wasting a bunch of supplies and having to do the work twice.”
I keep my mouth shut and follow Jesse over to one of the executive sized offices and listen as he walks me through how to tape up the room. No knock to his profession, but this isn’t the first time I’ve done this, and I know how to tape the windows and protect the carpet without a step-by-step instruction.
“Any questions?” Jesse says.
“Nah, man. I think I got it. Uncle Jimmy had me working for him since before I could drive.”
Jesse chuckles and shakes his head, peeks his head out the open door and drops his voice. “Carl’s a jackass sometimes, but he’s not all bad. Probably just worried Jimmy sent you here to take his job.”
“I’m not looking to do anything other than make a few extra bucks.”
He nods. “Then we’re all cool. Can you tape up the rest of these offices then come find me? I really could use your help loading the truck and bringing up the paint buckets.”
“You got it.” I already like Jesse and I’m okay with doing the heavy work, especially if it means running a few errands with him. There’s something about being stuck inside an office like this that makes me antsy. I don’t know how people come to the same building day in and day out, or worse, one of these offices with the floor to ceiling windows. Being tempted by the gorgeous view of the busy city beyond the glass, but chained to a desk job instead. No, thank you.
The morning goes by quickly as the crew works together. The workspace is being re-modeled by a new company so it’s nice that we don’t have to shuffle around furniture. The floor fills with the scuff of plastic sheeting laid out and taped down while AC/DC blares from someone’s Bluetooth speaker near the elevator banks. Before I know it, it’s time to find Jesse and head out to pick up the paint.
After a few final instructions from Carl we walk over to the elevator. It only takes a moment before the doors open with a ding. I follow Jesse inside but stop short. Holy fuck. There she is, owning the sexy library look with the same confidence she brings to any other outfit I’ve seen her in. Fuck me. This brings a whole new level of sexuality.
Surprise widens her big brown eyes the second they meet mine, but I’m just as taken aback to see her here. “Mia . . . What are you—?”
“Oh, good Lord . . .” The guy at her right, the same faux hawk friend from the bar, fans himself and repeats that staring thing that makes me slightly uncomfortable.
“Are you stalking me?” she says with such alarm it’s apparent that’s her actual conclusion as to why we’re sharing an elevator.
I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I’m going incognito as a painter. How am I doing so far?”
Her jaw drops open and she assesses my clothing. Worn jeans, work boots, and a long sleeved tee with my uncle’s company logo across the front that reads Haywood Construction must pass the test. “You paint too?”
“Handy and built as fuck. Praise Jesus,” her friend says aloud and everyone inside the car, including Jesse, chuckles. He almost looks apologetic as Mia sends him a glare. “Sorry.”
The elevator comes to a stop and we all shuffle off. I step to her side. “Just for the next few weeks. My uncle needed extra help with his crew. I take it this is where you work?”
“Yep.” She nods.
“Twelfth floor if you feel like a visit.” Her friend’s smile is full of mischief and earns another glare from her.
“Today’s not a good day for that,” she says as if she’s worried I might take him up on the offer. Is she really that private about her personal life, or embarrassed to have a lowly construction worker visit her fancy office? I can’t tell, but it puts me a little on the defensive.
“Yeah, well. I’m here to work, not socialize. See you around.” I wave and turn, but catch a glimpse of hurt spread across her face before she’s out of view. I instantly feel bad, too. My words were petty and intended to sting, but she doesn’t deserve that.
“Friends of yours?” Jesse asks as we step outside the building and hoof it to where his truck is parked a few buildings over.
“She is, yeah.”
“She’s a looker.”
“Yeah, she is.” Seeing her today is another smack of reality. She’s way out of my league, and while I don’t usually date, I’ve never dated someone like Mia. I’m almost certain there’s no one else like her. Or that I don’t deserve a chance. But here I am being dealt this amazingly good luck of the draw. The pressure is on, and while I could fold and walk away without being behind, that alone feels like a loss. When it comes to Mia, I’m not even sure what I’ll win, but I’m sure as hell sticking around for the fight.
Kind of disappointing, but there are no more run-ins with Mia at the job site. While it’s highly improbable considering the sheer size of the downtown office building and the number of people who come and go, I still can’t help but keep an eye out for her long locks in the crowd. They’re a deep, almost burgundy red, a color that’s most obviously not natural and teeters on unprofessional without crossing the line. Although I assume they have pretty relaxed guidelines at her company since her friend rocks a blue faux hawk.
I try not to think about her too much, but it’s crazy to be so close, only two floors away, and not be reminded of her snarky humor or lips that fight so hard before giving in to a smile. I know this dating bet is only a joke for her, but it’s not for me. She’s guarded behind her independent and successful nature, and there’s a challenge there. But also great reward. Mia’s not someone who falls for anything or anyone. Her affection is a prize worth fighting for because it’s not given freely to just any man. I don’t think it’s even possible to sweep her off her feet but I’m gonna try.
I’ve already planned out the perfect first date. Not that there was a whole lot to do, but I put a lot of thought into it—a favor from a client and a leap of faith she’s really not into typical first date activities.
The rest of Monday flies by with hard work and several trips up and down the elevator with paint buckets. They have me doing grunt work, and regardless of whether it’s because of my size or the fact I’m the new guy, I don’t care. A paycheck is a paycheck. I’m just looking to get paid. I cut out at three and take the bus over to South Side with barely enough time to change and scarf down some food before a night of teaching classes and training my fighters.
Xavier shows as promised, and while the swelling has gone down in his face, the bruises are painted in ugly shades of blues and purples. It’s almost painful to look at, but I give him credit; despite his injuries, he hustles hard during practice. As if he has something to prove, and really, doesn’t he? He needs this fight to get his mom the care she needs. There’s nothing to do with the hand dealt in life except play it to win. He’s got to fight, and I’ll do everything in my power to get him ready.
Xavier is a leader through and through, and when he pushes and grinds like this, the rest of the guys follow. He might’ve only just turned twenty—a good five to eight years younger than half of my crew—but he’s the one who sets the pace amongst his peers. The energy in the gym is palpable and addicting, and even I end up getting in on some of the drills and cardio sprints just for fun. By the time I get back to my apartment, I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.
Tuesday brings more of the same—another long day of work—but my Uncle Jimmy stops by the job site before I leave for the gym and hands me an envelope. It’s my pay in cash, and up front before I’ve earned it.
“Uncle Jimmy . . . I can’t take this. Not yet. I’ve only put in two days.”
“Bullshit. This is my company and if I want to give you an advance, that’s what I’ll do. Just don’t tell the rest of the crew. Can’t be giving out special favors for just anyone.”
“You didn’t have to do this for me. I don’t mind earning it.”
“Yeah, well, you are my second favorite nephew.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Carl treatin’ you okay?”
He told me this morning I should jump off the building if he caught me taking extra breaks. “Carl’s just fine.”
Uncle Jimmy raises his brow and chuckles. “That man’s a hardass son of a bitch. You never were a narc.”
I shrug because we both know exactly what that means.
“Your dad said he stopped by your place . . .”
“Yeah.” I scoff, remembering that delightful encounter.
“Don’t be so hard on him. He’s trying, Matt.”
I shake my head before he even finishes saying the words. “Don’t. You won’t change my mind as much as he can’t change who he is.”
Jimmy’s chin drops and he studies the primer we did on one of the office walls, running his hand over the now dry and smooth surface. “Just remember where you came from, Matt. Don’t burn bridges you can’t get back. I’m not saying he’s without fault, but he is trying.”
I don’t even know what that means, but I can’t allow myself to care or hope. I wasted much of my youth trying to please a man who never even noticed. Who was only running his own agenda between spreads, a bottle of gin, and multiple women. I’ve no desire to let my father back into my life.
“Thank you for the job.” I tuck the envelope into my pocket and then reach out to hug my uncle with open arms. He returns the gesture and I step back toward the bank of elevators. “I’ve gotta run. Classes to teach.”
“Your boys have any fights coming up?”
“Yeah, actually there’s a big one in three weeks.”
“Save me a ticket?”
“You got it.”
Clocking out for the day, I hightail it back to the gym to lock the money in the safe before opening up the doors. I check the envelope and am shocked when I find there’s four grand inside, and not the one or two I expected. I shake my head with a mixture of relief and frustration. This gets me by until after the fights; until a big contract for Xavier. But I can’t accept it. Not unless Jimmy puts me on jobs for another two months. I grab for my phone to tell him just that when I notice a missed call from Mia. Message too. Clicking on the screen, I hit play and the speaker button while I unlock the safe in my office and tuck the bills safely away until I can make it to the bank.
Matt, hi, Mia. I’m sorry to do this, but I can’t get there tonight. I think I mentioned we had investors in town. Things are good, but they decided to stay another night. Anyway, that means another night of wining and dining. I hope you get this. Let me know if you do. Again, I’m sorry for the last minute change. ’Bye.
For a second I wonder whether she’s telling the truth or running. I saw her reaction when I took her bet. She’s not thrilled to date me. In fact, I think she’s either too proud or stubborn to back down. Then, our encounter in the elevator yesterday, when she was looking sexy as . . . I shake my head, send her a thumbs up message and turn off my cell. No more distractions. There are bigger issues at stake than whether this woman wants to spend time with me. I’ve got a fighter to train.