“You’re an ass.” Sam threw a punch and caught Evan in the jaw, knocking him off his seat.

“What the fuck was that?”

“You weren’t paying attention.”

Evan jumped up, tipped his neck from side to side, making it crack. This fight clearly wasn’t going to end with one punch. “Well, I’m fucking paying attention now.”

* * *

• • •

“LAYLA!” Sam ran through the SoMa district, blood dripping from his nose. He’d managed to get in a good first punch, but Evan had proven himself the better fighter yet again by drawing first blood before they both got kicked out of the bar.

Why did he keep making the same mistake over and over again? Why couldn’t he protect the people he cared about? He knew what Evan was like. Once he had a couple of drinks, he started thinking with his dick.

Sam pulled out his phone and typed out text after text. If he could just get everything back under control . . .

But it was damn hard to focus when he didn’t know if Layla was safe. Had he really introduced her to Evan to further his own cause or because he genuinely wanted to give her a hand?

Where are you?

 SoMa isn’t safe at night.

 Stay away from 6th to 11th.

 Are you driving?

 Don’t answer that. It’s not safe to text and drive.

 Let me know you’re safe.

He stopped in front of an all-night ’50s-style diner to staunch the blood coming from his nose with the bottom of his shirt. His nose wasn’t broken, but it was going to be badly bruised.

His phone buzzed and he checked the screen.

I hate you.

 You’re a dick.

 P.S. I’m safe.

 P.P.S. What happened to your face?

Sam’s head jerked up and he looked around. She could see him. A tap on the window drew his attention. Layla was inside sitting at a counter in the window, eating french fries and sipping a milkshake from a giant parfait glass.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sam made his way through the bustling restaurant. The decor was classic ’50s with a red and white checkerboard motif. Silver stools lined a curved counter where servers roller-skated back and forth to the partially open kitchen. Vintage movie posters, and photos signed by the era’s greatest stars hung on the white-tiled walls above the red vinyl booths and small tables. Someone had put a few coins in the jukebox and Elvis’s “Jailhouse Rock” cut through the noise.

“I already ordered.” She barely glanced at him when he sat on the empty stool beside her. “I eat when I’m stressed.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Do you?” She looked up from her drink, meeting his gaze.

“Do I what?”

“Eat when you’re stressed?”

Sam didn’t know why they were having a conversation about food, but he was grateful she was speaking to him at all. “I usually just eat when I’m hungry.”

“Yet another thing that we don’t have in common.” She sucked hard on the straw, her cheeks narrowing, lips pursed into a tight bow. All his blood rushed to his groin and he tried to push away the sensual visual image. But when she released the straw to lick the creamy drink off her lips, he let out a groan.

“You’re really hurt.” She handed him a napkin, and he used it to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re dripping blood on my fries. It kind of looks like ketchup.” She pulled the plate closer to her. “What happened?”

“I hit Evan. He hit me back.” The two simple sentences didn’t even begin to describe the fight they’d had in the bar. Real-life fighting was nothing like the controlled sparring they’d done in the ring. It had been no holds barred, no piece of furniture unturned, no thoughts about any bystanders, just a desperate struggle to survive.

She tipped her head to the side. “Because of me?”

“I was angry at myself for not stopping him in time.”

Her face softened the tiniest bit. “Does he look as bad as you?”

Sam shrugged. “Not even close. He’s semipro. He’s been fighting for over fifteen years. I’ve never even won a sparring match against him. I got in my first punch because he wasn’t expecting it. After that it was pretty much a humiliating beatdown.”

“You should probably clean up in the restroom. I’ll get some ice. Try not to look at any kids on your way. They might not have seen the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Sam hesitated, still unsettled by her seeming nonchalance. Hadn’t she just run from the bar distraught? Didn’t she just text that she hated him? Maybe this was a ploy to get him out of the way so she could disappear again. “Will you be here when I get back?”

“Are you kidding? My burger is on its way.”

By the time he returned, her meal had arrived along with a bag of ice. Sam tended to his face while Layla tucked into her hamburger. He liked that she enjoyed her food. He’d always wanted a girlfriend who didn’t steal his dessert.

Except she wasn’t his girlfriend, and she never would be. “I’m sorry about tonight.” He closed his eyes as the cold pack soothed his skin. “I should have just set up a proper business meeting, but to be honest I didn’t trust him around you.”

She paused midbite. “Why? Is he some kind of violent criminal?”

“He can’t resist a beautiful woman.”

Layla’s brow creased in a frown. “Is this part of the game you’re playing? Showing up here, pretending like you defended my honor, saying nice things . . .”

He opened his mouth to answer, unsure what to say. “I’m not playing a game. You are beautiful, Layla.”

Layla gave a tiny shake of her head. “I didn’t feel beautiful when I saw the women Jonas had brought to our bed. Don’t get me wrong. I have no desire to be that thin. I like my curves. But it was like he was saying there was something wrong with me, and it made me even angrier because he was right.” She attacked the burger like it was a Scooby Snack. Did she really not see her own beauty? Evan had been falling all over himself to get her into bed, and the dudes with the mason jars weren’t the only ones who’d been checking her out in the bar.

“What exactly do you think is wrong with you?”

“Do you want a list?” She took another bite of her burger. “Ever since Dev died, I can’t hold it together. I was so depressed I slept with pretty much every guy in my college class, and then when I moved to New York to start over, I couldn’t make my relationships work. Jonas was just the last straw. I didn’t love him, but I wanted to love him, just like I wanted to love all the other losers I hooked up with. I think that’s why I lost it when I walked in on him.”