Hotly, he stared, then inhaled a slow, deep breath—and stepped back. “That woman upset you.”
“That woman?” Derision choked her. “You had a date with her and you don’t remember her name?”
The accusation gathered his dark brows together. “Mary or something. Who cares? And it wasn’t a date.”
“Sounded like a date to me.”
“Then you haven’t gotten around much in the past three years.” He indicated the chair. “Let’s talk.”
She’d had enough talk for one night. Now she just wanted to escape...all of it—Mary’s taunting insight, Cannon’s seductive caring, the exposure of old wounds. But fleeing would be cowardly, and by God, she would not regress.
Dropping her purse onto the long table, she sat. Mulish. Annoyed.
And, damn it, amusement replaced discontent as Cannon took his own seat. “Am I holding you up from something important?”
“No.”
He nodded to her phone sticking out of her purse. “Someone contacted you earlier. Someone male?”
She thought about lying, but no, he deserved better from her. “That was nothing...important.” Sitting forward to convince him, she said, “I want to go to the house and catch some sleep. It’s been a long trip and this is all—” unbearable “—uncomfortable.”
“Which was my point.” The opposite of her, he slouched back in his seat. He continued to study her until, very softly, he said, “I’m sorry.”
Now, why did that make her heart trip and her eyes burn? “For what?”
“Bad timing?” While collecting his thoughts, he looked down at nothing in particular. “I hooked up with Mary before I knew you’d be here.” His gaze swung back up to snare hers. “But now that you are here, I—”
Her forced laugh cut him off. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“It’s not about owing.” His right hand worked, closing into an imposing fist, then relaxing again. “We have a whole lot to straighten out.”
“We could talk tomorrow.”
“Count on it. But tonight—”
Rowdy stepped in, a cola in each hand. Clearly he and Cannon had caught up earlier, given the relaxed way they greeted each other.
“Better?” Rowdy asked.
“Much. Thanks.” He accepted the cola. “For this, too.”
Rowdy set the other drink in front of her. “Yvette Sweeny, right?”
“Um, yes. Hi.” For a moment there, her tongue got stuck. Rowdy Yates was just so...much. Of everything. No way would she have forgotten him, but... “I’m surprised you remember.”
The words no sooner left her than she winced. Of course he remembered. As Mary had said, details of the entire ordeal had played out in the news. She’d refused all interviews, but she knew her face had appeared plenty of times.
His attention, friendly as it might be, didn’t help to calm the stampeding of her pulse. “You’re not at all forgettable.”
Nodding, she said in apology, “Of course you’re right.”
One brow lifted and he grinned.
Oh, God, worse and worse. Yvette tried a glance at Cannon, but if anything, he looked more amused than Rowdy. “I meant because of the trial and everything. I sometimes forget how many times they plastered my pathetic face in the news.”
“That’s not how he meant it,” Cannon chided.
Rowdy’s mellow gaze warmed. “No, it isn’t.” Luckily, he let that go as he turned to Cannon. “Make use of the bar however you want.”
Wondering what that meant, Yvette watched Cannon, but he just nodded. “Thanks.”
“I’ll let you get back to your private chat in just a second. But first, a lot of people are calling in, asking if you’re really here. Word is spreading. I suspect we’ll be mobbed very shortly.”
“Damn.” Cannon stretched out his long legs and shook his head. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s not a problem for me. We like the business.” After a glance at Yvette, Rowdy said, “I’m assuming you plan to cut out for the night?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“No worries. I understand.”
Well, she didn’t. Again, she wanted to protest, but with Rowdy standing between them it would be rude to interrupt.
“How would you feel about announcing a night that you’ll be around? Say in a week or two? That’ll give you time to settle in, and hopefully keep people from crowding you in the meantime.”
“A week or two?” Her appalled tone blew her cool, polite facade. “You’re staying that long?”
“Yeah, I am.” The heated stare Cannon leveled on her held too many meanings for her to decipher. “At least.”
Happiness bloomed—but she denied it. Okay, so it’d be fantastic to see him more. It was still unexpected. She had assumed he’d make it a couple of days at most—long enough for her to explain that she’d handle everything, then send him his check once things were settled. He’d said his sister still had the family home here, and she knew he visited often, but from what she’d understood, his life was now in Harmony, Kentucky. “What about your training?”
“I just finished a fight, so unless the SBC says differently, I’ll wind it down some.” His eyes darkened. “Besides, I have weights I can set up in the basement.”
“That woman?” Derision choked her. “You had a date with her and you don’t remember her name?”
The accusation gathered his dark brows together. “Mary or something. Who cares? And it wasn’t a date.”
“Sounded like a date to me.”
“Then you haven’t gotten around much in the past three years.” He indicated the chair. “Let’s talk.”
She’d had enough talk for one night. Now she just wanted to escape...all of it—Mary’s taunting insight, Cannon’s seductive caring, the exposure of old wounds. But fleeing would be cowardly, and by God, she would not regress.
Dropping her purse onto the long table, she sat. Mulish. Annoyed.
And, damn it, amusement replaced discontent as Cannon took his own seat. “Am I holding you up from something important?”
“No.”
He nodded to her phone sticking out of her purse. “Someone contacted you earlier. Someone male?”
She thought about lying, but no, he deserved better from her. “That was nothing...important.” Sitting forward to convince him, she said, “I want to go to the house and catch some sleep. It’s been a long trip and this is all—” unbearable “—uncomfortable.”
“Which was my point.” The opposite of her, he slouched back in his seat. He continued to study her until, very softly, he said, “I’m sorry.”
Now, why did that make her heart trip and her eyes burn? “For what?”
“Bad timing?” While collecting his thoughts, he looked down at nothing in particular. “I hooked up with Mary before I knew you’d be here.” His gaze swung back up to snare hers. “But now that you are here, I—”
Her forced laugh cut him off. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“It’s not about owing.” His right hand worked, closing into an imposing fist, then relaxing again. “We have a whole lot to straighten out.”
“We could talk tomorrow.”
“Count on it. But tonight—”
Rowdy stepped in, a cola in each hand. Clearly he and Cannon had caught up earlier, given the relaxed way they greeted each other.
“Better?” Rowdy asked.
“Much. Thanks.” He accepted the cola. “For this, too.”
Rowdy set the other drink in front of her. “Yvette Sweeny, right?”
“Um, yes. Hi.” For a moment there, her tongue got stuck. Rowdy Yates was just so...much. Of everything. No way would she have forgotten him, but... “I’m surprised you remember.”
The words no sooner left her than she winced. Of course he remembered. As Mary had said, details of the entire ordeal had played out in the news. She’d refused all interviews, but she knew her face had appeared plenty of times.
His attention, friendly as it might be, didn’t help to calm the stampeding of her pulse. “You’re not at all forgettable.”
Nodding, she said in apology, “Of course you’re right.”
One brow lifted and he grinned.
Oh, God, worse and worse. Yvette tried a glance at Cannon, but if anything, he looked more amused than Rowdy. “I meant because of the trial and everything. I sometimes forget how many times they plastered my pathetic face in the news.”
“That’s not how he meant it,” Cannon chided.
Rowdy’s mellow gaze warmed. “No, it isn’t.” Luckily, he let that go as he turned to Cannon. “Make use of the bar however you want.”
Wondering what that meant, Yvette watched Cannon, but he just nodded. “Thanks.”
“I’ll let you get back to your private chat in just a second. But first, a lot of people are calling in, asking if you’re really here. Word is spreading. I suspect we’ll be mobbed very shortly.”
“Damn.” Cannon stretched out his long legs and shook his head. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s not a problem for me. We like the business.” After a glance at Yvette, Rowdy said, “I’m assuming you plan to cut out for the night?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“No worries. I understand.”
Well, she didn’t. Again, she wanted to protest, but with Rowdy standing between them it would be rude to interrupt.
“How would you feel about announcing a night that you’ll be around? Say in a week or two? That’ll give you time to settle in, and hopefully keep people from crowding you in the meantime.”
“A week or two?” Her appalled tone blew her cool, polite facade. “You’re staying that long?”
“Yeah, I am.” The heated stare Cannon leveled on her held too many meanings for her to decipher. “At least.”
Happiness bloomed—but she denied it. Okay, so it’d be fantastic to see him more. It was still unexpected. She had assumed he’d make it a couple of days at most—long enough for her to explain that she’d handle everything, then send him his check once things were settled. He’d said his sister still had the family home here, and she knew he visited often, but from what she’d understood, his life was now in Harmony, Kentucky. “What about your training?”
“I just finished a fight, so unless the SBC says differently, I’ll wind it down some.” His eyes darkened. “Besides, I have weights I can set up in the basement.”
