Beauty And The Bookworm (7 page)

We entered an uncomfortable silence and finished our food. Shane finally broke it. “So how long have you been at the library?”

“Almost four years.”

“And you like it, obviously.”

“I love it. I never wanted to do anything else.”

“So you’re a boxing-bookworm-librarian. That is one hot combo.”

Oh, God, I’m going to have to take boxing lessons. Gran will be so happy.
“And you’re a physical training massage therapist. That’s pretty hot too.”

He grinned. “Unfortunately, my type is a dime a dozen in Portland.”

“You stood out to me.”

“That’s only because the first thing I did was show you my ass.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

The grin turned wicked again. “Says who? Maybe I planned to hook my shorts on that tree branch just to give you a shot of the goods. Sort of my way of seeing if you were interested.”

Is my face getting hot? Why yes, yes it is.
“I was definitely interested.”

“I could tell. It was very flattering seeing you get all tongue-tied. Drove me crazy, in fact. I love it when smart guys think I’m sexy.”

“I’m not that smart.”

“What’s the capital of
… Slovakia?”

“You mean The Slovak Republic. It’s Bratislava.”

“See.”

“That just comes from working the reference desk at the library. I’m not ready to go on
Jeapordy
or anything.”

“Yes, you are. You want to move it back to the living room? I’m sure Josh is waiting for us.”

It was obvious from all the wincing that Shane did on the way back to the couch that he needed a pain pill. I got him one and waited like a good nurse while he washed it down with water. We settled on the couch and finished the movie. Actually, I finished the movie. The pill hit Shane and he fell into a happy half-sleep.

I switched off the TV, fluffed Shane’s pillows and got ready to sneak out. Before I got to the door, I heard that sexy, deep voice over my shoulder. “Mason?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Kiss me before you go.”

I knelt next to the couch and put my lips to his. He had nice, full lips, of course. He parted them just a little as we kissed and I slipped my tongue into his mouth. He grasped the back of my neck and the kiss deepened. We swirled our tongues together for a minute or two and then I pulled away
very
reluctantly.

“I’ll be calling,” I said as I walked out the door.

Chapter 7

I Take
A Deserved Beating

I was literally sick to my stomach as I walked into Tony’s Gym for my first boxing lesson.
I figured the best way to deal with my stupid lie was to make it true, so… boxing lessons. I had every reason to be nervous. The last fight I’d been in had occurred when I was in the 4
th
grade. Megan Farley had beat the crap out of me.

I was greeted by Tony himself. He
was about 60 and looked like he belonged in The Bronx instead of sissified Portland, but there he stood before me, complete with smashed-to-the-side nose and cauliflower ears. He was wearing a gray sweat-suit, the zipper on top pulled down enough to expose the pelt that covered his chest. I wondered if he would like to talk about wolf-shifter books before he started pummeling me.

Tony looked me up and down appraisingly. I have to say he didn’t look disappointed or anything. He actually looked a little intrigued. “You
gotta be Mason, the guy who called from the library.”

“How can you tell?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “We don’t get many Mr. Rogers sweaters in here.”

“Oh,” I held up my brand spanking new gym bag to prove I belonged there in that
temple of testosterone, “I brought shorts and a T-shirt.”

“
Good for you,” he said as he handed me a locker key, “just head into the locker room. Find some boots and gloves that fit you. You can wear the shorts you brought but no shirt.”

I
went into the locker room and found everything I needed. I was pretty disappointed with the boots. They could have been pretty sexy little lace-up numbers, but they didn’t have enough heel. I got myself changed, put on a pair of red boxing gloves and headed back out, looking for one of those bags I figured I’d need to punch.

“Up here, kid.”

I looked up toward the ring and saw Tony standing in its middle. He wore what I think was a smile and black gloves that made his hands look like paws. He waved one, indicating I should climb in the ring.

“Don’t you think I should start with one of those bags?
” I asked hopefully.

“Nah. You seem kind of nervous. I
gotta cure you of that right off.”

I climbed in the ring. “How are you going to cure my nerves?”

Tony scowled. “I’m gonna hit ya.”

He can’t be serious.
“On the first day?”

Tony kept scowling. A man appeared next to me
, shoved a padded helmet over my head and a piece of what tasted like condom into my mouth. Then he gave my ass a hearty slap. I usually like being slapped on the ass, but not that day.

Tony motioned to me again and we met about three feet apart in the center of the ring. Tony wasn’t wearing any of the protective gear that I was, which I found a little insulting, but I guess he knew what he was doing.

“Ready, kid?”

I shook my head.

“Good enough for me. Here’s what you’re gonna do. I’m gonna come at ya. You put your hands up and follow your instincts.”

Tony did a little hopping dance and advanced on me with his hands in a classic boxing pose. I followed my instincts. I ran away.

“What the hell you doin’?”

I couldn’t talk because of the mouth guard. I spit it into my glove and said, “Sorry, I just panicked. Can I try to hit you, first? I think that would work better for me
. And shouldn’t we have a safe word?”

“A what?”

I was trying to apply some of the knowledge I’ve gained from books to a real-world situation. “Well, this seems like a Dom/sub thing you’ve got going, so I thought we should have a safe word.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know, I say a word and you stop doing what you’re doing?”

Tony used his paw to scratch his head. “How about ‘stop’?”

I shrugged. “That’s not very original, but… okay.”

He advanced on
me again, but casually this time. “Kid, you gotta relax if you wanna learn to box.”

I put my mouth-guard back in. I jumped up and down a few times, trying to shake off my nerves.
Tony gave me a grandfatherly look, the way he’d look at a scared child who needed reassurance that the boogeyman wasn’t real. Then he punched me in the face.

I didn’t see stars, there was no approaching blackness pushing in on my consciousness, I was just suddenly on my back. I was also pretty sure Tony had fractured my eye-socket.
I looked up at him. He was looking down at me with his hands on his hips. He looked disgusted. “Kid, that was pathetic. Get up.”

I got up. I have to say my nerves were gone. There’s nothing like getting punched in the face to clear away your anxieties. “I think you gave me a black eye, Tony.”

“Definitely. Put those dukes up or I’m gonna color the other one to match.”

I
put my dukes up. Tony advanced, slowly this time. He took a jab at my face. I blocked it easily. I decided this wasn’t so bad. Then Tony punched me in the stomach. I doubled over and held out a hand to ward him off.

“Faked you out, kid,” Tony stated the obvious, “you thought I was going for your face, so I took your belly. You
gotta be ready for
anything
.”

I sucked in
big gulps of air and nodded. I straightened up. Tony was looking like he might be a little bit sorry for shamelessly taking advantage of a beginner. I realized he was probably an okay guy, then I cocked my arm back and punched him in the throat.

He coughed for a minute, then he looked up at me with a grin I’m sure murderers use on their victims. You know, that grin that asks, ‘Guess what I’m going to do with this cattle prod?’ I put my hands up and proceeded to take what Gran likes to call a real ass-whooping. Tony beat me in all four corners of the ring. I blocked about 5 percent of his punches and even managed to hit him once or twice, but, yeah, the 60 year old boxer beat the 28 year old librarian just like you’d expect.

We boxed for about an hour. I was exhausted. Tony finally raised a hand and said, “Stop.” I was too tired to explain to him that I was the one who was supposed to use our safe word. I was just glad someone had used it. I collapsed onto the ring’s floor with a thud. I think it was what you call a TLC.

Tony came and squatted next to me. “You, kid, are a natural
. There’s a spot for you in the feather-weight leagues as soon as I get you trained up. Hit the showers.”

I was no longer capable of hitting anything. I staggered to the locker room. I stripped and tried to find my way with the one eye I could see from. On the way to the shower, I got several slaps on my bare ass from the strangers who had just watch
ed me take a beating. I decided boxing is super-gay.

Back home, I looked in the mirror at my eye. It had completely swollen shut and was a purplish-black. It, and just about every other part of my body, hurt like hell. But, I smiled anyway. I thought the black eye gave me a sort of dangerous air.

I heard Gran calling me to dinner. I casually strolled out and sat at the table, just waiting for the comments and questions I knew were coming. Gran and Twyla were both going to think I’d gotten into a fight. The
y were going to think someone had mouthed off and I’d decided to rumble. I looked from one of them to the other, feeling every bit the warrior come home to his tribe, or the mighty caveman, come back to his trembling females, wounded, but with a wooly-mammoth slung over his back. “Let’s eat.”

Gran’s mouth was hanging open. She finally gathered herself and croaked, “Oh, Mason, sweetheart, were you raped?
”

Was I raped? Really?
“No, I wasn’t raped. I had a boxing lesson.”

Twyla took Gran’s side
. “You didn’t shower did you? We need to get you to the hospital while there’s still DNA. Can you describe your attacker?”

“
I was not raped! I had a boxing lesson! Are you both crazy?”

Gran reached across the table to squeeze my hand
. She spoke in comforting, level tones. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Mason. This is not your fault. Let’s go to the ER.”

I had a lot of questions running through my mind. What about
me said “rape victim?” Was it my small stature? Was it my maybe-not-too masculine walk? Was my not buttoning up my cardigans too provocative? All questions I knew would never be answered by the two women at the table.

“Look,” I said, “I sort of lied to Shane…”

Gran turned purple. A murderous line of spittle ran down her chin. “So he raped you? I’ll kill the bastard! Where’s my gun?”

“Gran!” I slammed my hand down on the table. “Just listen! Shane wanted to know where I work out. I told him I take boxing lessons at Tony’s Gym downtown. So… I had to go and take a boxing lesson.”

Gran stared at me, trying to process what I’d said. “So you’re becoming a boxer?”

“Yes,” I said, exasperated, “I lied on our first date
, so I thought I’d better make the lie true. I also told him I’ve been reading the Russian classics, but I
have
read them, so I think I’m okay there.”

Twyla chimed in, all support for her brutally raped friend gone. “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. First, why’d you tell such a stupid lie? Second, what makes you think a five foot nothing librarian can learn to box?”

I answered both questions succinctly, “Bitch!”

Twyla waved a hand at me. “You’ve gone off the deep end, Mason.”

Gran stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. She came back carrying a can of beer, which she cracked and handed to me. She was wearing the biggest grin I’d ever seen on her face. “My grandson the boxer! And that eye, Mason – that’s a beauty of a shiner. Wait ‘til the gals see it. You two finish you’re dinner. I’ve got some calls to make.”

“Shouldn’t you be bringing me ice instead of beer?”

“No way! You don’t want that beauty fading do you?”

Gran headed off to her room to call every lesbian in Portland and tell them all about her badass grandson.

I tried to give Twyla the silent treatment. She made it easy by continually laughing at my attempts to eat without any depth-perception. I finally found it best to close my good eye and then shove a forkful of food into my mouth.

When we finished eating, Twyla cleared the table and I sat nursing my beer. I tried scowling at her when she sat back down, but it hurt my eye too much.

Twyla gave one last snort and then decided to try and make nice. “Shane’s worth a black eye? He must really be something.”

I stayed cool. “He’s not anything… yet.”

“But you’d like him to be?”

She had me. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’m still in the lust stage, but he just seems… good. I don’t know how to put it any other way. He seems
good
.”

“Good enough to become a boxer for?”

“I’m not becoming a boxer for him. I’m just covering my tracks. You can’t start a relationship with a lie.”

Twyla was obviously physically willing her eyes not to roll. “
So why’d you lie in the first place? You should have just told him you don’t work out.”

My one good eye
did
roll. “It’s not a lie anymore. I
am
a boxer, sort of. I want him to like me. If I have to make a few adjustments to myself to make that happen, I will.”

Twyla shook her head. “This is not going to end well.”