Nodding, he stepped back.
Merissa quickly put the window back up and started the car. She didn’t want to hit the locks with Steve standing there, listening, but his nearness bothered her on multiple levels. She didn’t breathe easy until she’d pulled away and put him in her rearview mirror.
Anticipating lunch with Cherry, and then the evening with Armie, she shook off her misgivings about Steve. He was in her past, and now she only wanted to concentrate on the future—with Armie.
* * *
HEADING INTO ROWDY’S bar with the heavy hitters, Armie felt like a fraud. He despised the fanfare.
Why couldn’t he just fight, like he’d always done? Wasn’t his performance in the cage enough?
As they entered, Jude turned heads. Though he hadn’t been in a movie for a while, everyone recognized him. He stayed visible by actively supporting the troops, heading up numerous charities and promoting the SBC.
The fact that he had fight legends Simon Evans and Dean Connors with him only added to the stares. Even though he’d been married awhile now, women claimed that Simon was so gorgeous, panties just automatically dropped. And Dean, better known as Havoc and also married, got his own fair share of admiring stares.
He might as well have walked in with a king, the pope and the president for all the attention they got.
Rowdy met them halfway across the floor. “Bringing in the big guns, Armie?”
“They insisted.”
That made Rowdy grin. “Sorry I don’t have a private room, but Avery is clearing a back booth right now if that’ll do.”
Jude held out his hand, thanked him and agreed to let Rowdy take a photo for the wall.
Shaking his head, Armie looked at Dean. “How do you stand it?”
“He’s too nice to despise.”
“I tried,” Simon said, then studiously avoided looking at a woman who whistled.
Jude took it in stride, grinning at them and following Rowdy to the booth.
That was one thing Armie truly admired about the men—they were dedicated to their wives. Many men with their clout would use the popularity to carouse, but from what he could tell these guys were each faithful, showing only polite manners to the outrageously flirting women.
Because he despised cheats, Armie knew if he ever married, he’d be the same.
“I’ll apologize in advance,” Rowdy said, “but there are a lot of fight fans here and they can only be held off for so long. In a town this size, word is going to spread fast.”
Armie looked around the room and saw at least two dozen people frantically sending texts. “Shit.” He shrugged at the men who would be his company for the next hour. “You guys want to do an impromptu gig? Rowdy’ll be better able to hold them off if you agree to some fan photos in say...” He checked his watch, realized Rissy was off work and wanted to groan. “How about an hour?”
Jude said, “Why not?”
“Fine by me,” Havoc said. “Simon?”
“Sure. And if any new fighters are around, gather them up. We’ll give them some exposure.”
Brows lifted, Rowdy said, “That’d be great if you’re sure it’s not a problem.”
“No problem at all.”
“All right, I’ll spread the word and buy you some privacy until then.” After taking drink orders, he left them.
Simon watched him go, then eyed the others at the table. “Is it just me, or does Rowdy seem like he has a whole hell of a lot more going on than bar owner?”
Armie grinned. He wasn’t about to go into Rowdy’s history with everyone, but he did say, “He’s only the latest owner of the bar. Before that, yeah, he had a lot going on.”
“He’s got an edge to him,” Jude agreed.
“Cannon told me some of it.” Havoc sat back. “I don’t think he’d mind if I shared.”
“You do that,” Armie said as he took out his phone and quickly texted Rissy to let her know he was held up. Just as he was about to send the message, he heard her laugh.
What the hell? Midstory he made Havoc move to let him out, stepped from the booth and scanned the room. Merissa had just walked in with Cherry and already guys were eyeballing them. Together the ladies made an interesting contrast; Rissy was tall, slender, with long dark hair, while Cherry was much shorter with a generous rack and curly blond hair.
Damn it. Where the hell was Denver? He’d keep the knuckleheads away.
When Rissy pulled off her coat, the sight of her squeezed all the oxygen out of Armie’s chest. She wore a stretchy, black lace top that hugged her upper body enough to make his mouth water. Her jeans, superlow and long, emphasized the length of her killer legs. She’d added extra makeup and even curled the ends of her long hair.
For who?
“Problem?” Havoc asked.
Hell, he’d almost forgotten he had an audience and definitely hadn’t realized they’d stopped talking about Rowdy. Without looking at any of his companions, Armie said, “No.” Not one that he could acknowledge anyway, definitely not one he’d share with another guy.
He sent the text, saw Rissy immediately grab her phone, smile and quickly thumb in a reply. Soon as it hit his phone, Armie read, Cherry told me. Visiting w/her @ Rowdy’s. Let me know when ur done & I’ll head over. Miss you!
So it wasn’t that she’d accepted Cherry’s offer over seeing him, and it wasn’t to get with another guy. She’d dolled up extra sweet for him.
Tension uncoiled from his neck and shoulders, when damn it, tension shouldn’t have been there anyway. He missed her, too, but only texted back, Will do. Have fun. Then took his seat again.
Havoc looked at him, then toward Rissy and back again. “Should I ask?”
“No.”
Frowning in confusion, he slid into the booth seat. “Isn’t that—”
“Thought you weren’t going to ask.” Armie stared at him, hard.
Jude and Simon both looked quizzical.
With a slow grin, Havoc shrugged. “Long as it doesn’t interfere with your debut—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Ah,” Simon said, nodding his shaved head with sage wisdom. “A woman.”
“That’s usually the only interference mentioned,” Jude agreed.
They both started to scan the room, presumably to find the woman in question, but with perfect timing, Rowdy returned with their drinks. “On the house,” he said as he served them. “It’s the least I can do, so feel free to order whatever you want.”
“Burger and fries?” Simon asked.
“I’ve had the cheeseburger,” Havoc said. “Really good.”
“My cook, who’s also a fight fan, will own eternal bragging rights,” Rowdy told them. “How about I bring a platter and some plates?”
The offer was met with enthusiastic agreement.
So they planned to do dinner? Shit. Armie stewed over that, wishing he could be elsewhere.
Like with a certain tall, adorable lady, who also happened to be scalding hot—
Just then, Cherry and Merissa took a table across the room from them. It was distracting enough thinking about her, but now he could see her, too—her every smile, how she gestured while speaking enthusiastically with Cherry, the way the ladies laughed together.
Watching Cherry go wide-eyed, a hand over her mouth, Armie wondered if they were gossiping about sex.
When Cherry fanned her face, he knew they were.
Merissa nodded, then crossed her heart, and Armie outright laughed, making the other men wonder.
“Sorry.” Clearing his throat, he folded his arms on the booth top and asked, “So, what do you need me to do?” Maybe once he gave agreement and assurances, he could get on his way.
Not so.
For the next hour they talked promo and appearances. No problem. He never minded talking with spectators.
“Usually,” Havoc said, “we ask the guys to dress it up a bit.”
“Suit and tie,” Simon said. “Take it serious. Be sincere.”
“I can do that,” Armie told them, but he already dreaded it. He was much better at just winging it, at listening to the fans and laughing with them, mugging for photos and all in all, having a good time. But he had given his word that he’d dive in, so—
Jude shook his head. “We discussed it before coming here, and part of your appeal—”
Lip curled, Armie asked, “My appeal?”
“—is you.”
They all waited, putting him on edge. “What the hell does that mean?”
Deliberately provoking, Simon said in an aside to Havoc, “Touchy.” Then he grinned at Armie and overly articulated, “Your fans like you ‘as-is.’ They don’t want you prettied up.”
Prettied up? Armie scratched his chin. “So no suit?”
“You might have to tone down the suggestive tees,” Havoc explained, “but otherwise, just be yourself.”
“You’ve already built this enormous fan base,” Jude said. “And they don’t want you to change.”
“Whatever you say.”
“They like your rebel attitude.”
Armie snorted. “I’m not a rebel.” That sounded insecure and annoying.
“Nonconformist then.” Jude disregarded the wording as if it didn’t matter. “The fact you’ve avoided the SBC, that you fight without the fame—”