on road rash. Everyone who started with the team has scars.”
“What’d they do in the winter?”
“They only played in a summer league.”
A commotion broke out on the floor, and Bloody Mary shoved an opposing team member.
Deacon stiffened beside her.
“She looks a lot different as Bloody Mary, doesn’t she?”
“Jesus. Marisol is a roller derby queen now?”
“I don’t know about being the queen. She’s the jammer. I’m surprised you recognized her with her clothes on.”
A heavy pause. Then, “Look at me.”
Dammit. She felt his pull and turned her head.
“I thought we were done with the strip-club fallout.”
“We are.”
“Then you don’t get to throw shit like that in my face.” Deacon lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. “One hour.”
“Deacon—”
“We became this one hour ago. I had a life before that. So did you. What—and who—came before doesn’t matter.”
“Ignoring things that happened in the past only means they’ll be harder to discuss down the road.”
“I’m not a big discusser, babe.”
“Well, I guess that’s about to change—isn’t it, babe?”
Deacon’s eyes narrowed.
Molly offered him a sunny smile. “We will have a detailed discussion about our expectations—both social and sexual.” She patted his thigh. “Chin up, buddy. It’ll give you something to look forward to during dinner.”
He stared at her.
She didn’t crack—but, lord, perky and determined was hard to maintain when faced with those calculating blue eyes.
Then Deacon smiled. A smile she hadn’t seen before. A smile that shot straight to the heart of her.
“Killing me, babe.” He kissed her decisively. “Now explain roller derby to me.”
The bout started, and the noise level in the gymnasium increased dramatically. Molly did her best to explain what a jam was, what rules a player violated to get a penalty, the difference between a jammer and a blocker. She admitted the scoring never made much sense to her.
When Presley went sailing across the floor and ended up dog piled by the opposing team, Molly stood and booed along with the rest of the Divas fans. Then she booed louder when Presley, who had a bloody nose and a gash on the outside of her calf, was penalized for tripping.
“You suck, ref! Pull your head out!” Molly shouted.
Deacon looked at her strangely when she plopped back down next to him.
“What?”
“You’re a vocal fan.”
“Embarrassed you, did I?”
“Surprised me is all.” He ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “You’ll yell and scream at my opponent when you come to watch me fight?”
She couldn’t tell him the thought of seeing him bloodied turned her stomach. “Would that make you happy?”
“It’d make me very happy to see you sitting in my corner, babe. Never had my woman cheering me on.”
My woman. The growly way he said that just . . . got to her.
Another loud cry arose from the crowd.
Molly looked down on the floor. The players were in a massive fight. Punching, pushing, elbows flying, and more pushing. Even the secondary players skated into the fray.
“What just happened?” Deacon asked.
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen this before. Usually it’s a lot more sedate.”
Deacon hissed in a breath. “The chick from the other team just clocked Marisol.”
Blood Mary roared. She grabbed her attacker and knocked her down. Before Bloody Mary lived up to her name, whistles blew.
That garnered attention. The coaches separated the players and sent them back to their respective benches.
The ref skated over to the penalty box to confer with someone.
“Is there medical personnel at these bouts?” Deacon asked.
“Not officially. But the Divas’ coach’s wife is a nurse.” She paused. “Speaking of medical personnel, what do you think of Riggins?” Riggins was one of the new jujitsu instructors, who also served as medical adviser for the athletes in the MMA program and took care of injuries in the dojo. Big Rig was intimidating—partially because of his massive size, but also because he was majorly hot. Molly suspected some of the female students faked injuries just to have Riggins put his big hands on them.
“He knows his shit.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
He shrugged. “It’s what you asked. But if you meant what do I think of Riggins’s role at Black Arts? Whether he’ll stay through the building of the MMA program, or if he’ll just train with Sensei for belt advancement? Don’t think Riggins knows the answer to that.”
The referee moved to the center of the floor, brandishing a microphone. “According to regulations set forth by the national organization, in light of actions by both teams, I’m ending this bout as a double forfeit.”
A chorus of boos rang out.
“That’s a weird end to this.” Molly nudged Deacon’s shoulder. “Means you’ll get to eat sooner. But I have to see if Presley’s okay first.”
Deacon insisted on holding her hand, so she let him lead the way. When they reached the floor, Molly noticed the coaches were in a heated discussion with the referee. The players had spread out to remove their skates.
Presley was perched on the edge of a wooden bleacher seat, holding an ice pack to her face. A smile broke out when she spied Molly. But then she dropped her gaze to Molly and Deacon’s joined hands. “I left you three hours ago. In that time you managed to forget every damn thing we talked about?”
“Deacon showed up at the office and apologized. We realize we have a lot to talk about”—Deacon snorted—“but I’d promised I’d come tonight, so here we are.”
“I don’t know whether to smack you or hug you.”
“I wouldn’t recommend smacking her,” Deacon drawled. “Molly consistently outpunched you in class.”
“She outpunched everyone because someone gave her special treatment.”
“Nope. She’s just that good.”
“What happened tonight?” Molly asked, trying to change the subject, but secretly she basked in Deacon’s compliment.
“Double forfeit. They started the fight knowing we wouldn’t back down. Now the forfeit puts our losses even with theirs. So they did it to move up in the standings.”
Molly didn’t point out the Divas could’ve avoided the loss by not taking the bait and avoiding the fight. “When’s your next bout?”
“I’d have to look at the schedule. But I know we’re holding tryouts next month.” Presley said the last two words in a singsongy manner. “The Cisco Kid is moving back to Oregon, so there’s an opening on the team.”
Bloody Mary strolled by and did a double take at seeing Deacon. “Hey, hot stuff. Couldn’t get enough of me, eh?”
He lifted one eyebrow.
That’s when Bloody Mary noticed Molly and Deacon were holding hands. “You and Cherry? Never would’ve called that one.”
Rather than let it go, Molly said, “Why is that?”
“You lost your shit seeing me fully clothed on his lap. Imagine how you’d react seeing me doing this”—she gyrated her hips and lewdly thrust out her ass—“wearing only a G-string and a grin.”
“I’m imagining it, all right. Not sure whether a spinning back kick or an uppercut would be most efficient to knock you off his lap.”
“Jesus,” Deacon said under his breath.
Bloody Mary looked her over. Then she smiled. “Gotta respect a bitch who don’t back down when it comes to defending her gals or her guy.” Then she smirked at Deacon. “Watch your balls, ’cause sweet Cherry here is gonna own them.”
“And . . . we’re done,” Deacon said, dragging her away.
Shoot. She didn’t even get a fist bump from Presley for her excellent defense
of her man.
He’s your man? After only a few hours?
Sure felt like it. Especially when Deacon pressed her against the building as soon as they were outside and devoured her mouth. The hot, wet kiss sent her pulse tripping. She became so light-headed she had to clutch him to keep herself upright.
He slid the heel of his hand above her heart. “Babe. Gotta remember to breathe when I kiss you.”
She sucked in a lungful of air on a huge gasp.
“Better?”
She nodded.
Deacon eased back and locked his gaze to hers. “Two things. One, there’s no fucking way I’ll ever let you strap on a pair of skates and run with those crazy-ass bitches. Two, made me fuckin’ hard hearing you threaten to take on Marisol for me.”
The possessive glint in his eyes? Hot. The decree of what he’d allow her to do? Not hot. At all.
Molly fisted her hand in his shirt, pulling him closer. “Two things. One, I’ll try out for the Divas if I want to. Two, now that we’re together? No more strip clubs.”
They stared at each other.
Surprisingly, Deacon broke eye contact first. He said, “Fine,” and kissed her.
But it was hard to maintain the kiss when she couldn’t stop smiling.
• • •
DEACON took her to a hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint.
He scooted into the booth so she could sit next to him. Then he stretched his arm behind her and played with her hair.
After they ordered, she said, “The staff seems to know you.”
“I eat here once a week. It’s the only place in Denver that serves Tex-Mex.”
“Mexican food is different in Texas?”
“Yep.”
“Do you miss the Lone Star State?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you miss your family?”
“Nope.”
“How often do you go home?”
“Rarely.”
“Don’t get along with them?”
“Nope.”
Molly decided to stop asking questions that could be answered with one word. She jokingly said, “So I guess that means you won’t be taking me home to Texas to meet the family.”
He scowled. “I don’t do family shit, so no.”
She slid out of the booth and moved across from him, folding her arms on the table. “If you keep scowling like that, your face will freeze that way.”
Deacon finally smiled. “Good one.”
“First-date rule. Tell me something about yourself that you’ve never told another woman.”
A momentary look of panic crossed his face. Then the mask settled in place again. “I don’t like to answer a bunch of questions.”
“Ha! I’ll bet that’s standard answer with you. Not new, so try again.”
“I hate this shit.”
“I know. But that also doesn’t count as an answer. Tell me a secret.”
“I like to watch skating on TV.”
“Men’s or women’s or pairs?”
“Hockey.”
Molly leaned forward. “Hockey is not figure skating, Deacon.”
“I didn’t say figure skating. I said skating. Hockey players are the shit on the ice. So hockey counts as skating. Just a rougher version. Your turn.” He lifted his beer to hide his smirk.
You asked for this, smart-ass. “Sometimes I fantasize about a rougher version of sex.”
Deacon choked on his beer. “What the hell, Molly? Why would you . . . ?” His eyes narrowed. “You’re fucking with me.”
“Not yet,” she said sweetly. “And no more than you were when you said you liked to watch skating on TV.”
“I was telling the truth.” He sighed. “I changed it to hockey at the last second because I thought it might make me sound like a pussy, all right?”
She didn’t believe him. “So you really like figure skating?”
“To the point I fucking DVR’d the world championships and the Olympics.” He pointed at her with his beer bottle. “And if you tell anyone that, I’ll lie.”
“I believe you. Anything you tell me, I’d never tell anyone else.”
“Good. Back to your answer. Do you really like it rough?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had it that way, which is why I said I fantasize about it.”
“Jesus, woman.”
“What? Men don’t look at me and imagine pushing me up against a wall and fucking me, pulling my hair as I’m being fucked, or just taking me fast and hard in the heat of the moment.” When Molly looked up at him, her stomach cartwheeled at seeing the hunger in his eyes.
“You toss that out there? Expect I’ll pick it up and run with it. Because, babe, I can do rough.”
“Good. That’s what I want.”
“Then that’s what you’ll get,” he said softly. “But sometimes you’re gonna get it sweet from me too.”
Chills skittered down Molly’s arms from his first declaration, and her heart went mushy at his second. “I can deal with that.”
The waitress dropped off their food.
Molly eyed the two grilled chicken breasts topped with sliced avocado, the cup of whole black beans, and the pile of plain rice on his plate.
Deacon caught her looking at his meal. “What?”
“That’s Tex-Mex?”
“A healthier version of Tex-Mex.” He shoveled a scoop of rice and beans into his mouth.
“Do you always eat like this?”
He held up his hand while he chewed and swallowed. “Five days a week. Two weeks before a fight, the warden switches me to bread and water.”
“Seriously?”
“No. But I get damn sick of protein shakes.”
She drizzled a mix of salsa and ranch dressing over her salad greens.
“Do you always eat like that?” Deacon asked.
“I do now. Once upon a time I would’ve ordered two chimichangas covered in cheese, sour cream, and guacamole. I would’ve knocked back two alcoholic drinks, and I’d have finished the meal with a sopapilla sundae.” She sipped her water. “I make better choices now.”
Deacon gestured to his plate with his fork. “I hear ya. Maddox had me drop ten pounds. It’s tough to cut weight.”