Trust Me(2)

And maybe once I showed Mick how knowledgeable I was about the sport and immersed myself in that community he would see what a good fit I was, and he’d give me a shot of my own. I strode from the room, a tiny nugget of hope lodged near my heart, still not sure whether I wanted to tear him a new one or hug him.

I rounded the corner and promptly ran smack into a wall of hard muscle and flesh, knocking my forehead on something bony.

I swore under my breath, wincing as I rubbed the injured spot. “What’s your jaw made of, adamantium?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, you nearly took my head off, so watch it next time.” I looked up to a guy around my age massaging his chin and flexing his jaw. He barely gave me a second glance as he muttered an apology and moved to push past me but I blocked his way as I took in his appearance.

Dirty blonde hair, almost surreal green eyes and a fighter’s build, he didn’t look like any of Mick’s grunts. None of them were that pretty.

“Look, I said I was sorry. You’re fine, I’m fine, let’s just move on with our day.”

Playing a hunch, I said, “You Matthias McDaniels?”

He closed his eyes and sighed like he definitely didn’t want to be. “I am.”

“Well, I guess we might as well get used to butting heads, then.” I stuck out my hand. "Kayla James. Apparently, I'm your new manager."

He stared down at me for a full ten seconds before he started to laugh. "The fuck you are," he said with a curt shake of his head. "First off, I don't know you, and secondly, I made an agreement with your boss. He didn’t say anything about bringing in someone else for the job."

My hope nugget disintegrated and irritation took its place. "And third of all," I said, yanking my hand away from his and trying to quell the urge to use it to karate chop him in the balls, "I'm a girl, so clearly that makes the very idea of me being your manager positively comical, right?"

He blew out an exasperated breath and shrugged his broad shoulders. "Look, I don't know what you want me to say here, Red. That I'm a Neanderthal and think women are the weaker sex? Will that fit the stereotype you’re trying to pin on me? The macho, dumb jock who thinks a woman can't do a job traditionally done by a man?" He held up both hands like he didn't give a crap either way. "That's not my issue, but if it makes you feel better, then run with it. I've got to go. I have dinner plans. Tell Mick I’ll call him first thing tomorrow."

Okay, so maybe there was a slim chance I’d jumped to conclusions. If he was telling the truth, which I doubted, his reasons for not wanting me as his manager had nothing to do with me being a woman. That didn’t fix the problem, because the fact still remained, for one reason or another, he was dead set against it.

Probably I should’ve left it at that. Let him and Mick duke it out and hope that I would end up off the hook, but suddenly my initial ambivalence was gone. I wanted to be part of something I helped build. Something I could be proud of rather than feeling like Mickey had given me another hand out. It might not be as good as fighting, but I had a chance to dig in to something gritty and real. Something that would take me one step away from pushing paper all day and one step closer to a fight of my own.

Like it or not, Matthias was the lynchpin and I wasn't about to let him walk out.

"Okay, so if it’s not because I’m a girl, then why? Why do you have a problem with the idea of me managing you? You said it yourself, you don't even know me. I could have tons of experience and have three successful fighters under my belt for all you know."

I didn't, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was trying to act like this wasn’t about my gender when it was. Better to face it head on and get it out of the way than pretending it didn't exist.

"You want the honest truth?" Matty stepped closer and eyed me from head to toe, his suddenly hot gaze trailing over my face, lingering on my lips before dropping lower to my breasts. My traitorous nipples peaked and I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my chest, because fuck him.

But honesty wasn't something that I had a whole lot of experience with in my twenty-one years on earth. If he was offering, I wouldn't turn it down. Nothing he could say would hurt my feelings, so what did I have to lose?

"Shoot." I cocked my head to the side in challenge, ready to let him know in no uncertain terms that, if he tried to bullshit me, I'd call him on it.

“Because you'd be a distraction."

My heart kicked up a notch in annoyance. Or at least that's what I told myself. "A distraction?"

"Yeah." He folded his muscled arms over his chest and stared at me defiantly. "I'm a healthy, twenty-two year old, red-blooded male with a sex drive running on all eight cylinders. Only an asshole like Mickey would send a sexy redhead with a chip on her shoulder at least as notable as her spectacular rack to stand over me for the next few months while I try to concentrate on training for a fight."