He got it open and turned to face her, grabbing her elbow and pulling her toward his chest. She was close, but not touching him. He could still smell the hint of vanilla she seemed to always walk around in. He paused just long enough to see her chest begin to rise and fall quickly and her lashes flicker up to meet his eyes.

“No, I’m having a moment, and you’re the woman I want to spend it with.” His voice was soft and sincere, and he meant what he said.

He had never done anything before like he was about to do for Clare. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t want to stop, either.

She licked her lips, and as she turned from him and walked through the door he was holding open, he saw her tremble slightly, making him want to break his promise to her right then and there.

Chapter 11

Clare’s mind was running a thousand miles a minute as she stepped down the dark hallway at Legends. She had come to know it well over the last few weeks, attending Casey’s classes. She was fully aware of Rory patrolling behind her, his steps heavy on the ground but somehow also comforting in the darkness around them—a fact that confused her, since she had become so protective of her independence.

“Rory, what the—” Clare stopped in her tracks as she exited the hallway into the main room of the gym.

The room was large and open, with multiple rings for fighters to practice in surrounding the main cage in the exact center of the room. It was larger than the rest, and higher up off the ground. She had seen Rory and Kane practicing in there many times before, but tonight it was something she had never seen before.

“You did this for me?” She turned around to consider him, tears welling in her eyes. She swore she saw him blush, but it was instantly gone as he took her hand, pulling her toward the ring.

Each corner of the cage was adorned with a trio of tall white candles of varying heights, glowing beautifully in the darkness and illuminating the center of the ring. As she surveyed the space, she realized they were flickering flameless candles, which made her smile at his practicality. A blue-and-white checkered blanket lay flat between the candles, held down by a few cushions of varying shades of blue and a wicker basket to one side. There was an ice bucket, with a carafe of water and a bottle of champagne.

“Come on, let’s get in,” he told her as they reached the edge of the ring, then without asking or warning, he gripped either side of her waist and lifted her straight up onto the platform.

She grabbed the rope wall that surrounded the cage to steady herself, then slipped through the opening, shaped like a padded door, into the cage area. Rory followed her and the two sat on cushions in the center of the candlelit ring.

“I don’t know what to say, Rory. I’ve never had anyone make me a picnic before. Especially after midnight. And in the middle of a cage?”

“I like to do things a little different.” He smiled at her, then proceeded to open the picnic basket and pull out the contents that he had prepared for them.

“Since it’s pretty late at night, I figured you already ate dinner. So, this is dessert.” He flashed her a wicked smile, and she felt her face flush at the direction her mind was going.

“Homemade honey-almond brittle—my mom’s recipe, but I gave it a try, so hopefully it tastes as good as hers does. Plus I have dark chocolate, and sparkling cider.”

“Sparkling cider?” Clare repeated, sounding surprised, as he pulled the bottle out of the ice bucket to show her. She had originally thought it was champagne when she had seen it.

“Someone I admire once told me not to lose myself to drinking.” He fiddled with the seal on the bottle, avoiding her stare.

“Rory, I didn’t mean to…” Her voice came out soft and sad. Guiltily, she wondered if she had made him feel bad about himself.

“No, you were right, Clare. I need to stop depending on liquor for everything. My knee is killing me, but you were right.”

Smiling, she picked up a small piece of the honey-almond brittle and nibbled on it, surprised to find that it melted in her mouth, tasting undeniably sweet. Her eyes widened as she contemplated what she was eating, admiring the fact that this rough-shaven hulk of a man had created something so delicate.

“It’s great, isn’t it?”

“Holy crap, Rory, this is amazing! I can’t believe you made it.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he taunted, pulling out two fluted glasses, which he placed between them.

He opened the bottle, breaking the seal, and poured a small amount of cider into each glass. He picked up both glasses and handed one to her.

“Thank you.” She began to lift the glass to her lips, but he touched her forearm, stalling her.

“Can’t drink until we make a toast…”

“All right.” She joined him as he lifted his glass up toward hers.

“To the first person I’ve ever been in the cage with that I’ve wanted to kiss.” He smirked as she scrunched up her nose at him.

“Thank goodness for that.” She took a sip from her glass, almost wishing she were drinking alcohol to help calm the butterflies flying around inside her. He reached out his hand to touch her gently, and as he did, his shirt sleeve rode up, revealing part of the tattoo that she had seen earlier.

“What is that?” She motioned to it, letting her fingers trail over that spot on his skin for just a second before she jerked her hand away, embarrassed.

She hoped he didn’t notice how taken she was with the design. Plus, she felt a bit shy that she had seen him entirely naked and had slept in those same arms, yet somehow hadn’t paid attention to any of his tattoos.

“This was my very first tattoo. I was way too young to have gotten it, but I was born on August first—a Leo, if you ever read the horoscopes. So, on my seventeenth birthday I convinced a friend of mine whose father owned a tattoo shop to get me in. He gave me this lion.” Rory rolled up his sleeve and stretched out his forearm, showing an intricate and detailed figure of a roaring lion.

“It’s beautiful, and it’s perfect for you.” Clare continued to admire it as he poured them both another drink.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know…The other day Casey called you a wolf. But you’re not a wolf—everything about you is lion.”

“You’ve been thinking about what kind of animal I am?” He seemed amused.

“Why not?”

“Hmm, then I’m going to have to come up with an animal for you.”

“If you pick kitten, I swear I’m walking out of here right now.” Clare cocked her head, and Rory simpered, looking smug.

“Don’t worry, little mhuirnín. You are most definitely not a kitten.”

“Good, because I’d like to think I’m more original than that.”

“Is a lion original?” He flexed his arm again, showing off his tattoo.

“Not really,” she teased, touching his arm again, “but if it makes you feel any better, Casey called me a duck.”

Rory burst out laughing at that, a deep belly laugh with his head thrown back.

“It’s not that funny.”

“It’s hilarious. You’re not a duck.” He squeezed her arm gently. “But we should change the topic or I’m going to keep laughing at that.”

“All right, how about the topic of how I found out your secret yesterday?” she teased, enjoying regaining the upper hand.

He raised one brow, intrigued at her revelation. “My secret? What’s that?”

“Ace, and Woodlawn Rescues,” Clare started to say, as he rubbed his hand across his face in an attempt to hide the redness creeping up his cheeks.

“I knew I should have revoked Patty’s membership years ago,” he joked.