Читать книгу Fighting for Keeps - Jennifer Snow, Jennifer Snow - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

“WHY ARE THE men bowling in the dark?” Lily Duke asked, sitting across from her in the booth at the pool hall cum bowling alley cum movie theater later that evening.

Lindsay squinted in the dim lighting and turned in her seat. “They’re glow bowling,” she said, suppressing an urge to roll her eyes as the pool hall’s bartender glanced their way. “Heather’s trying to bring a younger crowd to the weekly bowling leagues.”

“Doesn’t she know we are the younger crowd around here?” Lily laughed, sipping her wine.

“I don’t blame her for wanting to liven this place up. It could use some new blood, but I think she’s fighting a losing battle.”

Heather Corbett was a New York City girl who’d come to Brookhollow the year before for Victoria and Luke’s wedding and had stuck around. She’d taken over the bar when Melody Myers had left town to pursue a music career. Heather had redecorated the space as best as she could, adding laminated drink menus to the tables and rearranging the pool tables to create a bigger dance floor. She’d somehow gotten the owner to approve the addition of four big flatscreens, which were now blasting the opening theme song of the UFC’s pay-per-view.

That, too, was a new addition to the pool hall’s offerings. Lindsay shuddered. “I didn’t realize the fights were this weekend.” It had been bad enough when sports were showed continuously on the big screens.

Lily glanced toward the flatscreen as highlights from previous fights flashed, her face clouding.

“You okay? We don’t have to stay...” Lindsay reached for her coat, but Lily waved a hand.

“No, it’s fine.” She released a deep breath. “Men hitting each other doesn’t really bother me...it was one particular guy beating me half to death that I objected to.” She tugged on her sleeve to cover the long scars Lindsay knew were on her forearms.

Her stomach turned. She remembered all too well how badly hurt Lily had been when she’d arrived in Brookhollow.

Her car had run out of gas outside of town and Bailey had brought her to the medical center after picking her up in the tow truck. Frightened and frantic, Lily’d fought against receiving medical care, despite swollen black eyes, a busted lip and gashes on her right side from a knife attack. Damage caused by the husband she’d been fleeing.

One who was now thankfully in jail in Newark.

“You’re safe now,” she said, repeating what she’d repeated over and over to the scared woman while the doctors at the clinic had treated her wounds.

Lily nodded. “If you had told me a year ago I’d be free of him and living here with my own clothing store and amazing new friends, I never would have believed it.”

“Well, believe it.” She gave her hand a squeeze. “We’re all so happy you decided to stay.”

Especially her. Her reputation in town as being a gossip and a busybody was one she didn’t refute, but it made making real friends difficult—it always had. Lily didn’t seem to mind, accepting her for who she was.

The small bar grew louder as the fights started and while Lindsay refused to watch them, she could appreciate the physiques of the fighters as they disrobed to climb into the ring. Muscle from head to toe. Strong, alpha males were admittedly her thing—she just wished men with bodies like that didn’t come with inflated egos and empty minds.

“They are nice to look at, I’ll give them that,” she said, sipping her cosmo. An image of Noah’s sculpted biceps flashed in her mind.

Across the bar, the man himself caught her eye. In a pair of jeans that hugged his thighs and a black T-shirt with the UFC logo on the front, he looked comfortable, confident and relaxed. His easy you-lied-to-me smile made her glance away quickly.

She groaned.

She should have known with the limited choices for a night out in Brookhollow, he’d find out she’d been lying about having to work.

She reached for a menu. “We should eat,” she said to Lily, scanning it. She could feel Noah’s gaze still on her and her cheeks flushed. Why was he staring at her? She shot him a look. He laughed and took a mouthful of his beer, winking at her over the bottle.

Holy hotness.

She shook her head. What a waste. It was a shame really.

“What’s wrong?” Lily asked.

She snapped her attention back to her friend. “Nothing. Why?”

“Who were you looking at?” Lily turned in her seat, glancing toward the group of men watching the fights. “Ah...Noah.”

Lindsay’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just a matter of time before he wears you down, you know.”

“I’ll have you know, he asked me out again today, and again I said no.”

She should be praised for her resolve. Since moving to Brookhollow the year before, Noah had asked her out several times and every time he came into the clinic, he asked for her. He was about as subtle as a brick to the forehead.

Lily cocked her head to the side.

“What?”

“I guess I just don’t get it.”

“Oh, come on. I’d never even consider dating Noah or any of those guys that train over at Extreme Athletics. I mean, sure they are among the hottest men anywhere, but you know how little respect I have for their career. I’m a nurse. I’ll never date a fighter.”

“Even though the chemistry between the two of you last weekend at Bailey and Ethan’s wedding rivaled that of the happy couple?”

Lindsay scoffed. “It was only a dance.”

“Four dances and, believe me, all eyes were on the two of you.”

She’d known dancing with Noah at the wedding would spark gossip all over town, but she was used to being a topic of conversation and she’d learned over the years that people believed what they wanted to believe. No amount of protest would convince them otherwise, so she’d given up trying.

“According to Nathan, all eyes were on the length of my dress,” she said, rolling her eyes. Her brother would find any excuse to criticize her. They’d once been close...but their differences made it difficult to be friends in adulthood. Her brother was a worrier and slightly uptight. He had trouble relaxing and enjoying life. She saw things differently, wanting to enjoy every moment, and short dresses and dancing the night away were a part of that. If her brother didn’t like it...too bad.

“Whatever. You have great legs. Why not show them off?”

“Would you have worn it?” She toyed with the stem of her wineglass. The opinions of others rarely mattered to her.

“No!”

“Great, so it was a T-shirt pulled down over my hips?”

Lily laughed. “Maybe. But who cares? You looked great in it... You know what? I may borrow it sometime.”

Lindsay laughed. “Yeah, right.” She couldn’t remember ever seeing Lily in a dress or anything that showed any amount of skin. She knew her friend was self-conscious about her scars, but she also suspected her ex-husband’s abuse had been more than just physical.

Heather approached the table with a round of drinks. “Compliments of the hottest man I’ve seen in here...ever,” she said, setting the drinks in front of them and nodding toward Noah.

He lifted his beer in greeting across the pool hall. Heather and Lily all but swooned. Lindsay smiled her thanks before placing her empty glass on Heather’s tray.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You’ll dance with him, you’ll accept his free drinks, but you won’t date him.”

If she dated every man she’d ever flirted with, she’d have dated every man under forty in New Jersey.

She smiled at her friend. “Exactly.”

* * *

NOAH PARKED HIS motorcycle in the back parking lot at the community center late the next morning. The enormous space was home to a dozen after-school programs and summer camps throughout the year, and served as a host venue for weddings and holiday parties, as well. It was a staple in the community and the heart of Brookhollow.

As he took off his helmet, the door to the center opened and a tall, thin, teenage boy came out. “Hey, Dominic,” Noah said.

The kid’s face lit up. “Hey, Noah. I didn’t think you were going to make it today.”

Made him grateful he’d climbed his tired butt out of bed. “Of course. Sorry I’m late.” He secured his helmet to the bike and stripped out of his leather Rocket jacket in the hot, early June sun.

“When are you going to let me drive your bike?” Dominic asked, his admiring gaze on the Honda Cruiser.

“The day you get your motorcycle license. How did the permit test go?”

Dominic’s shoulders sagged. “Not so great.”

What a drag. He’d been hoping the boy’s third try would be a success. “Don’t worry about it. Next time. You got your road rules book here?”

Dominic nodded unenthusiastically.

“Great. We’ll work on it again today.” Wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders, he ushered him back inside the community hall.

To his right, a group of volunteers played basketball with some twelve-to fourteen-year-olds and on his left, at the computer stations, members of the Turnaround program were helping an older teen update his résumé.

Since starting the program nine months ago, they had placed eight kids with local jobs. Noah prayed the government funding for the program continued beyond this first term the city had agreed to as a test.

Brookhollow was a quiet, peaceful town, but that didn’t mean there was enough work to go around and that nobody had any problems.

Noah had grown up in a small town very much like this. He knew firsthand what it was like to be a kid from a family that never had enough. And to have parents who...well...who didn’t know how to cope with raising a child. He swallowed hard, squeezing Dominic’s shoulder before dropping his hand.

This program was there for kids who needed the support they weren’t getting at home, kids who were deemed troublemakers by school officials and who were never given a chance to move beyond their circumstances.

From inside the office, Joanne was signaling for him. He nodded and turned to Dominic. “Why don’t you find a table and get started? I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Okay, but I really think a hands-on approach would help me learn better.”

“Nice try, but your road test will be done with a car, not a motorcycle. Not exactly the same thing.”

Inside the office, Joanne Kelly greeted him with a warm smile, then an immediate, “Bad news.”

“Fantastic, I love starting the day with bad news. Means the day can only get better. Let’s hear it.”

Picking up a letter from the desk, she handed it to him. “The National Crime Prevention Strategy has denied our application for funding.”

“Again? I thought we jumped through all the hoops this time. How can they continue to deny the funding? This program is designed to do exactly what they’re hoping to accomplish at a community level—reduce the number of kids in the criminal justice system.”

Noah took the letter and scanned it quickly for the reason. “Lack of sufficient regulations on the program.” Again.

He tossed the paper onto the desk and sat in the chair across from Joanne. “I don’t know what else to do. We have the New Jersey parole officers on board making sure these kids get to the programs three times a week to meet with their mentors...you’re on staff now...” He shrugged.

“I’m a volunteer on loan from Mentor’s partnership program. You need full-time staff. A social worker would be a good start...a real teacher to oversee the tutoring...”

“These kids’ grades have improved significantly with the help of mentors. And I’ve tried to get real teachers involved. No one has the extra time to give to the program,” he said harshly.

Noah saw through the excuses: no one saw the value in the program. How was that even possible? He was convinced they were helping the kids who’d enrolled.

Weren’t they?

He shook his head in disgust. Now was not the time to start having doubts. He would just have to find a better way to prove that the community center mentorship helped change lives for the better.

“Hey, I’m not the enemy here,” Joanne chided softly. “I’m just trying to explain why the funding keeps getting denied.”

He ran a hand over his short hair. “I’m sorry. I just don’t get it. Without funding, I can’t hire accredited staff, and without them, I can’t get funding.”

It had been an uphill battle to even get the nine-month trial approved on the program without regular, accredited staff in place, but he’d assured the city official he’d met with that he was working on it. He was. Joanne had been a good start. Of course, she was correct. She was only on loan and volunteering her time; for how long, he didn’t know.

Joanne hesitated, twirling a strand of her bright red hair around her finger.

A nervous habit of hers. Great, there was more she wasn’t saying. He waited.

“It gets even worse,” she said finally.

“So much for my theory of it only getting better,” he mumbled.

“The city sent a letter informing us the Turnaround funding would only be extended until the end of the month...they say the program hasn’t produced enough significant results to warrant their support beyond that.”

“Not enough significant...” Noah stood with his hands on his hips, fighting to control his anger. Joanne was just the messenger. He wouldn’t take his frustration out on his only real supporter.

He took a calming breath before saying, “How can they say that taking eight kids off the street isn’t significant enough?” One of the eight had even returned to finish high school at nights.

“Because last month, twenty kids in New Jersey were incarcerated. Unfortunately it’s a numbers game, Noah. We have to prove the program is working. And now I’m going to say something that will probably make you even more angry, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

He waited. What he both appreciated and hated about the woman was her blunt candidness. He suspected today he was going to hate it.

“You need to be here more. If this program has any hope of success, it needs you. The volunteer mentors are trying, but they need direction and guidance.”

He knew she was right. He’d started the program when he’d met Dominic. The boy had been walking home with a bleeding lip and tears in his eyes. After much prying, the boy had told him that the injury was a result of him refusing to participate in a gang initiation break-and-enter at an abandoned warehouse outside town.

Noah’s admiration of the boy’s courage and strength to do the right thing had sparked a fire in him to help kids like Dominic find alternatives to a criminal path. Kids who wanted to do the right thing but couldn’t find a way out of the trouble they were involved in.

Kids like him at sixteen.

In less than a year he’d grown the after-school mentoring and outreach program to fifteen student volunteers three times a week, each paired with two at-risk youth in the community. The mentors were potential at-risk older teens who’d found purpose and direction in helping younger kids.

The motto of the program was “We are all on the same journey, just at different points.”

The common stories shared between mentors and mentees brought them closer and instilled confidence and respect in the younger kids. Noah shared his own story of going down the wrong path with these kids over and over in the hope of being a role model for these children.

The only real problem was that the program was growing at the same time as his fighting career. Something he hadn’t fully considered.

As much as he knew how important his direct involvement was to the future success of the program, he couldn’t be in more than one place at once and his training was important, too.

“I’ll figure something out.”

Joanne didn’t look convinced as she nodded. “Okay, what do I do in the meantime?”

“Please keep reapplying for the funding. The worst they can do is keep saying no, right?”

When she opened her mouth to respond, he shook his head. “Don’t answer that.”

He knew that wasn’t the worst they could do. In truth, without the proper regulations in place and a permanent on-staff director who could be held responsible for the program, the city could shut it down at any time.

Opening the office door, he joined Dominic at his table.

If nothing else, he was going to help this kid get his driver’s license.

* * *

LINDSAY ALL BUT ran from one examination room to the other where patients were waiting far too long to see a physician. Some kid had come back from an early summer vacation in France with a bad case of chicken pox and had succeeded in infecting the rest of Brookhollow Elementary with the disease.

Sixteen confirmed cases and counting already that day. Itchy, irritable children were bad, but they were nothing compared to the group of men who’d come in contact with poison ivy on a hunting trip.

People scratching themselves every which way she turned would have been almost funny, if she wasn’t so exhausted. Like most medical facilities in small towns, Brookhollow’s clinic provided a wide range of services and ran on a skeleton crew. Which was usually okay, until an outbreak occurred. Then the staff was expected to work double shifts and no one came out of days like this in a good mood.

She grabbed the next file from the reception desk.

Great, one of the grumpy men. At least he was the last of that group. “Mike, you can follow me,” she said, noticing Noah waiting near the clinic door. The small space was at standing-room capacity. “You here to pick up your results?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Don’t worry, I can wait.”

“Thanks. Give me a few minutes,” she said as she led Mike to an exam room. “Dr. McCarthy will be a few minutes. Try not to scratch.”

She shut the door and headed down the hall toward the file cabinets. Noah’s MRI results had come in that morning. He was all clear to fight, and she wasn’t sure why the positive results annoyed her. Of course, she’d never want anything to be seriously wrong with him...or any of her patients, but if only there was enough reason not to provide medical clearance.

Picking up the letter from Dr. McCarthy and a copy of the results to send to the fight committee, she went back to the desk and nodded for Noah to come forward.

“I could have waited.”

She shook her head. “We’re trying to limit wait times for anyone not here with chicken pox. The last thing we need is an adult outbreak.”

The clinic door opened and Victoria waddled in.

Oh, no. “Give me a sec,” she told Noah. Rushing toward the front door, she ushered Victoria back outside, reaching for a bottle of hand sanitizer as she went. “No! No! Get out...”

Victoria frowned as they walked into the hot sun. “What are you doing? I have a checkup with Dr. McCarthy today and I have to pee.” Her eyes widened as she held her baby bump. “This kid is using my bladder as a trampoline.”

“We will have to reschedule and you’ll have to pee somewhere else.” Lindsay took Victoria’s hands and pumped the sanitizer on them. “There’s an outbreak of chicken pox in there.”

Victoria immediately took several steps away from the clinic, furiously rubbing her hands. “Is it serious?”

“Sixteen cases so far today.”

Victoria moved farther away from her.

“I’m fine. Nathan and I had them as kids. Mom sent us to go play with Jonathan Turner when he had them one summer.” Lindsay had had to miss Brownie summer camp that year and instead had been stuck in the house all week with Nathan.

She could understand the logic now, but try explaining it to an eight-year-old who missed summer camp.

“Anyway, let’s rebook your appointment for next week...” She paused, remembering what Rachel had said about Victoria passing out. “You know what, I’ll stop by your house tomorrow morning and take your blood pressure and some routine tests.”

“Since when does the clinic do house calls?” Victoria eyed her suspiciously. “Rachel told you I passed out, huh?”

Okay, her sister-in-law couldn’t blame this one on her.

“Yes. She was worried about you.”

“Who else knows?”

Lindsay suppressed a sigh. She deserved that. Her reputation around town as the local one-stop-gossip-shop wasn’t entirely baseless. She did like to gossip...as long as it didn’t hurt anyone. “I filed it under patient confidentiality. Now, go home and rest and I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Thanks, Lindsay.”

Parked in the visitor space, Luke jumped down from the driver’s side of the truck when he saw his wife approach. He frowned, but then waved to Lindsay once Victoria explained the situation to him.

She smiled and watched Luke lift Victoria into the passenger seat.

That should have been her, she couldn’t help but think. Oh, well, maybe someday... Well...not someday with Luke, but someday with someone else. Someone better.

Yeah, right, as if that were possible.

Back inside the clinic, she returned her attention to Noah. “Sorry about that.”

“What was that? I mean, it’s no secret Vic’s not your favorite person, but kicking her out of the clinic is kind of harsh, don’t you think?” He smiled as he leaned against the counter.

Lindsay laughed for the first time that day as she pushed his arms away from the counter. “Seriously, this place is infested, don’t touch anything,” she said, disinfecting the counter with sanitizer wipes for the millionth time and handing him the sanitizer, which he refused. “And I sent Victoria away because she’s pregnant and the virus can harm an unborn child.”

“Oh, wow, didn’t know that.”

She flipped through his paperwork to make sure everything was there. “So, everything came back normal and you’re cleared to fight.” She’d delivered the good news through clenched teeth.

He took the paperwork. “Why do you disapprove of fighting so much?”

She was sure they’d had this conversation already. “It’s pointless and brutal. Two men hitting each other... I guess I don’t see how that can be considered a sport.”

“There is technique involved,” he said. “And a lot of training and conditioning...”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than I know.” Or want to know. She picked up the next file. “As fascinating as I’m sure it is, I have to get back to work.”

“What are you doing later?” He blocked her path to the waiting area.

“Working.”

“You’ve used that lie already.”

She pointed to the crowded waiting room. “It’s hardly a lie.” Today.

He grinned. “Okay, so what you’re saying is if you didn’t have to work tonight, you’d have dinner with me?”

“Not at all. What I’m saying is, if I didn’t have to work tonight, I would need to come up with a lie.”

* * *

“I...JUST...DON’T...GET...IT,” Noah panted between punches on the heavy bag an hour later.

On the other side Brandon held the bag as he continued his rain of jabs and strikes on the worn leather. “Look, man, I’d like to help you, but women troubles are not really my thing.”

“We haven’t even made it to troubles yet, she just straight-out refuses to even have dinner with me because I’m an MMA fighter. It’s actually kind of prejudiced.” Noah threw one final jab, then hit the mat at his feet in push-up position. “I mean, it’s like she assumes fighting is all I am.”

“Isn’t it?” Brandon asked, adding a stack of weights on his back.

Noah struggled with the last two, his forearms burning after the intense twenty-minute circuit set. “No way.”

He wondered what his coach would think if he knew about the outreach program. Since coming to Brookhollow, he’d made some great friends, Brandon and his brother Jordan included, but he was careful about what he chose to reveal about himself.

The families he’d met in the small town were so different from his own. They were supportive of one another, divorce was rare and his friends... Though they’d had their struggles they had never had to wonder where their next meal would come from or have to help their passed-out father to bed after far too many drinks.

Revealing the good he was trying to do would only spark conversation about the bad in his past. And he’d moved away from that. He wanted his friends to see him as the man he was now.

“I’ve got other things going on,” he said noncommittally as he rolled onto his back and brought his left knee and right elbow together in a crunch.

“The thing is,” Brandon admitted, “I’m not getting your attraction to her.”

“You’re kidding, right?” How could the men in this town be so blind to Lindsay’s appeal? She was smart, beautiful, kind... Impossible to reach. He was no stranger to chasing a pretty woman, but he’d believed her when she’d said she wasn’t interested. He just wasn’t sure he could accept that answer. Not this time. Not with her.

“Okay, maybe I’ve pegged her wrong. So enlighten me. What does it for you?”

“For one, she’s a knockout.” Noah did his twentieth crunch and his stomach started to burn. He loved that feeling, so he pushed on.

“I’ll give you that. She’s definitely one of the more attractive women in town,” Brandon said.

Noah let out a deep breath as the crunches got tougher and his abs hardened.

“And she’s educated,” he huffed, recalling how Brandon’s sister had filled him in on all the details on Lindsay the first night he’d noticed her at Bailey’s Thursday-night self-defense class at Extreme Athletics.

“She’s amazing with her patients.”

“Okay, so, maybe it’s a Florence Nightingale syndrome. You get hurt a lot, she has morphine?”

Noah shook his head as he stood. His buddy would never get it. Once opinions and stereotypes were formed in small towns, they were tough to shake. And Lindsay fit a clear stereotype in Brookhollow. He knew firsthand how annoying it was to be pegged a certain way and never given the benefit of a doubt. That was why he kept his past a secret from his friends. “Never mind.”

“Okay, maybe I can see why you like her, but, man, she does not like you,” Brandon said, tugging off Noah’s training gloves and unwrapping his hands.

“Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

It only made him want her to even more.

His entire life he’d met with challenges and adversity and he’d been successful in overcoming a lot. Could he meet the challenge of the five-foot-two, brilliant blonde who held firm to her own prejudice about him?

* * *

LINDSAY CRINGED AT the sound of the clinic door opening. The fourteen-hour shift continued with no end in sight. Her feet ached, even in her practical nursing shoes, and the last thing she’d eaten was half a protein bar as she’d rushed from one patient to another.

All she wanted was a cigarette, but each time she reached into her purse for her emergency pack, she heard her niece’s teary plea.

This day couldn’t end soon enough.

As she turned toward the door she almost wished it was another infected six-year-old as her eyes met Noah’s. What was he doing here again?

“Noah, if you have another self-inflicted injury—” She stopped when her gaze fell to the picnic basket he carried, the smell of fried chicken from Joey’s diner on Main Street filling the tiny waiting room.

Several patients, who’d been waiting hours to see a doctor, stared longingly at the basket and she had to swallow to stop from salivating.

“You brought your dinner into a medical clinic where people have been waiting for hours to see a doctor?” Talk about insensitive.

“It’s not for me,” he said, moving the magazines aside on the waiting room table. Setting the basket down, he opened it.

Lindsay’s eyes narrowed as she watched him remove two large buckets of the chicken and a stack of paper plates and napkins...and Tina’s famous potato salad...

Her weakness.

“Everyone, help yourselves,” he said, opening a grocery bag and handing out apple juice to the kids.

The waiting, hungry patients didn’t need any more prompting as they passed around the plates and the food.

Huh, that was...unexpected. And a little bit fantastic.

He took a smaller container from the basket. “Here. I wasn’t sure if greasy, fried food was your thing, so I brought you a BLT, with a side order of potato salad.”

Above and beyond. Who would have thought?

“Thank you. This was really nice of you.” She hesitated, still a little dumbfounded, but more than a little starving.

“Take a few minutes to eat. They are.” He nodded to the group devouring the impromptu food delivery.

“Okay.” She headed down the hall, but paused when she noticed he wasn’t following her. “You coming?” Her question must have surprised him as his eyebrows shot up.

He smiled. “No, you’re busy. I just wanted to stop by to take care of the pretty lady who’s taking care of everyone else.”

She felt her cheeks go red. “Well, thank you. Again.”

“Anytime,” he said over his shoulder as he left.

Unwrapping the sandwich where she stood, she watched Noah cross the parking lot to his motorcycle. So dangerous, so carefree—he really was the kind of man who preferred to live life on borrowed time.

She could never be with a man like Noah, but she had to admit, with each delicious bite of her BLT, she was beginning to feel huge regret about it.