Page 30 of The Knockout Rule

They turned off the main drag, headed toward their hotel. “Unless you want to be paid in slobbery kisses from Whit, you’ll have to wait.”

“This is more of a quid pro quo situation. I do you a solid, you do me one.”

“Way to make it sound shady.”

They dodged a group of giggling girls, never breaking stride. Navigating Vegas sidewalks was a sport of its own.

“It’s not shady,” Preston said. “I need more help with Isla. She’s a tough nut to crack.”

Preston might not have hesitated with his financial help, but Eric sure as hell hesitated now. With how much time he’d spent with Isla—six days, two sessions a day, plus that fun afternoon shopping together—he’d felt off about helping Preston with that poem. The more time he spent with Isla, the more he liked her. Thought about her when they weren’t together. Imagined asking her out, going on a proper date to talk more, learn more about her, tell her more stupid jokes so he could watch a smile break over her beautiful face.

The flare of interest in her he’d hoped would pass was only growing, but she likely never thought about him outside of their sessions. Would never consider dating a boxer. Helping Preston by telling him what to say would only add to his frustrations.

“It is completely shady,” he told his manager.

Preston stopped outside of their hotel. “How’s it different than me looking up poems online? You’re a better resource. You see her every day.”

“It’s just different.”

“What happened to you owing me?”

A woman with a massive hat and shoulder bag sashayed toward the revolving door, practically knocking into Eric. Pulling Whit closer, he stepped aside, feeling anxious. Irritable. He was worried about his mother. Hated borrowing money from Preston. It was more than that, though. Eric liked Isla. He was developing feelings for her, looked forward to their physio sessions. He wasn’t sure how to separate those emotions when coaching Preston on how to woo her, or if Preston was pursuing her for the right reasons.

“What do you like about her?” he asked.

Preston crossed his arms, smirking. “You have seen her, right?”

Most nights, instead of working on his visualization, he closed eyes and most certainly saw Isla: intelligent eyes, full lips, that birthmark on her neck. He wanted to knock Preston’s smirk off his face. “I’m not talking looks. Why are you suddenly so interested in her?”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “The women I’ve dated have always wanted something from me: gifts, vacations. My money, basically. Isla’s different and down to earth. Smart and gorgeous, but she’s also a ball buster, which is refreshing.”

“You enjoy the challenge.”

“It’s not like that.”

Eric wasn’t sure. “So you want more than a hookup with her? You’re actually after something serious?”

A couple near them stopped to take a selfie, big smiles, hearts in their eyes. They laughed and kissed afterward. The closeness reminded Eric of the in-love couple he and Isla had joked about.

Preston sighed. “You know how my parents are? Always teasing each other, touching when they think no one’s looking?”

Their affection was impossible to miss. Preston had invited Eric to several family dinners—Thanksgiving, birthdays. Rebecca Church always fussed over Eric, made sure he had enough to eat, while Preston’s two older brothers talked sports and his father badgered them to take a family fishing or camping trip. “Like the old days,” he’d say.

Jokes about burned food and landing a fish hook into Preston’s thigh would follow.

They were a boisterous, male-dominated family, but the second they left the dinner table, Preston’s father would take a plate from Rebecca’s hand and kiss her cheek while clearing the table together. He’d sit right beside her on the couch, arm draped over her shoulder, fingers in her hair, when there were three roomier seats to be had.

The only romantic relationships Eric had witnessed growing up had both ended with tears: the father who’d left them in Russia, Rosa and her husband splitting apart. The love and affection in Preston’s house had been a revelation. “Your parents are lucky,” he said.

“They are, and I’ve been thinking about them more lately. How I’ve had so much success in business, but I don’t have someone to share it with. I’m kind of envious.”

The word success hit Eric in the gut, so forcefully he felt slightly ill. He’d spent his life striving for success, earning money to support his family. He’d done an okay job of it at times. If he really thought about it, though, he didn’t feel particularly successful. He studied secretively, never pushing his mind as hard as he pushed his body. He wasn’t working the job he wanted, he was doing his duty, and he was so far from having a relationship like Preston’s parents he may as well claim celibacy.

What would it be like to just walk away? Quit boxing, study full-time. Get a job translating for people who needed his help. Affect lives, beyond offering brute entertainment. He’d even be able to ask Isla on a proper date instead of helping Preston charm her.

He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure where the hell those reckless thoughts had come from. Some people had the luxury of living selfishly. He wasn’t one of them. “Thanks for the loan. And yeah, I’ll help you with Isla. I have a session with her in a bit. I’ll send you a couple poems this afternoon.”

Ashamed at having to ask for the handout, he dropped his head and followed Preston to his room to get the check. He really did owe the guy. Big time. He still planned to make sure Isla was on the same page, that she seemed interested in Preston. Check that she wasn’t already dating someone else she liked through that stupid app. Or maybe those precautions were excuses because he didn’t have the stomach to play cupid with her and his manager.