KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys(102)

I don’t want to call Landon and go sit with him and Claire while they watch The Bachelor or some domestic shit.

What the fuck happened to my friends? They got themselves wifed up and left me hanging. I need to get some new guys to go out with, or this town is gonna get old, real quick.

The gym’s open, lights are on, so that’s a good sign, but the moment I step foot inside I hear Kit talking animatedly with someone. The words of the exchange become clear as I walk into the open gym.

“I need a fight. Soon. I just feel like my time is running out.”

I’d recognize JoJo’s sexy, raspy voice anywhere.

“You got lots of time, girl. You’re twenty-three, in prime shape. We don’t need to rush this.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I do. My family ... listen, it’s complicated.”

“What are you saying?” Kit asks.

Wanting them to know I’m here, I cough loudly.

“Hey. Uh, anyone hungry?” I hold up my bag of food.

Kit clenches his jaw, looks at the floor.

“Maybe I’ll just go,” I say, taking a step back, not wanting to intrude on anything.

“It’s fine. Stay,” JoJo says, looking up, meeting my eyes. “Kit, I’m not trying to be intense, I just wanted you to know where I’m coming from. Okay? This means everything to me.” She brushes away a tear and I’m reminded, again, of this girl’s layers. She’s a fucking onion at this point.

“I’ll do whatever I can for you, Jo,” Kit tells her, pointing a fatherly finger at her. “You’re a keeper—you know that, right?”

“Something like that.” She looks at the ground, but Kit doesn’t let her off the hook. He gives her a quick hug, smacking her back as he does.

Pulling back, he tells her, “I’ll find something for you, Jo. Promise.” Looking over at me he adds, “I’m gonna pass on the grub. I’m beat. But feed this girl—she probably hasn’t eaten all day. Am I right?” he asks JoJo.

She shakes her head, smirking. “Not true. I had leftover chicken nuggets for dinner. And cold peas.”

“I got you covered.” I hand her the chocolate shake.

She takes it from me, smiling as she does—and then smiling wider as Kit leaves, locking the door behind him.





JoJo


I’m inhaling this fast food—after the day I’ve had, screw the low-carb, high-protein diet I’ve put myself on. I’m not a crazy girl, obsessed with being skinny. The diet is my effort to be as lean as possible, to be ready for a fight.

I hope Kit heard me. That he’ll find me one. Right know, I just need something of my own to hold on to.

I swallow a bite of burger, and look up, realizing McQueen is grinning at me in that perfect way of his—the one where his straight, white teeth gleam, and his chin juts out ever so slightly. And the dimples. He has one in each cheek. It’s ridiculous.

And hot as hell.

Maybe he can be the something I can hold on to.

Stop. It. Now.

I can’t let myself go down that rabbit hole ... I’ll be more lost than Alice, and right now I need to stay grounded in reality. I can’t let myself fly away into a fantasy. Late night hook-ups do not fall in that category.

“Earlier you told me you were going out tonight,” he says, dipping a fry in ketchup.

We’re sprawled out on the floor of the gym. His back is against the wall, and I’m crossed-legged in front of him, the food between us. At this exact moment I’m grateful for a greasy barrier, because I have this desire to ask him to scoop me up in his solid arms and carry me away.

“Earth to JoJo, you okay?”

“Yeah, what did you ask?”

“You said you were going out tonight?” His eyes squint, as if trying to get a read on me.

I need him to stop being so damn handsome. I can’t concentrate.

“Right. Well, I stopped by my sister’s house after leaving the gym, and she was having a hard time. I sent her to the bath with a bottle of wine, and I took care of the kids.” I shrug, knowing that when I left Mary’s the kids were all asleep, the laundry was done, and the kitchen gleamed.

Connor still hadn’t come home, but I left feeling good about my decision.

I keep talking. “So Lucy, my friend who I had plans with, thinks I’m a flake for the thousandth time—but family comes first, you know?”

“Something like that. Maybe you just have a really close-knit family. I haven’t seen my brother in a year.”

“That’s terrible,” I tell him, meaning it.

I can’t imagine not seeing my sister for a week. I pick up my nephew from his private school a few days a week, I eat dinner around my sister’s kitchen table, I swim in the pool in her backyard. Our lives are connected. They are the fabric of my days.