“Thought of them doing what, Raz?” Charlotte asked, sweetly observing the boxer.
“Yeah, Raz, what do you think we’re talking about?” Penny chimed.
Libby pressed her fingertips to her lips, trying to hold back the tumble of laughter. She could watch her girls take Raz to task all day long.
“Well,” her beefcake began with another nervous throat clearing. “Libby thinks you’re talking about…”
“Now you’re bringing me into this?” she teased. Libby stared down the mountain of a man as Char and Penny came to her side.
Raz tugged at his collar, then turned to Mitch and Rowen. “They’re tiny, but they’re bloody scary when they gang up like that.”
“You haven’t figured that out yet? These women are a force to be reckoned with,” Mitch answered as he mooned over Charlotte, gazing at her like she’d invented grilled cheese sandwiches.
Libby glanced at her girls, taking comfort in their presence, then felt Raz’s gaze slide back to her.
That beefy dreamboat of a smile teased the corners of his lips. “I’m starting to see that.”
And…swoon.
And hello, ethereal blue-violet aura. The color pulsed in the air. Light and flowing, it connected them. Raz’s gaze shifted, and he scanned the empty space around her. Sweet disbelief registered on his face. He saw the color shimmering in the mountain air. She wasn’t one to bet, but if she were, she’d put everything she had on that assumption.
“Good, you’re here,” Briggs grunted, lurching forward and holding his stomach. “The winner of the Spar with the Beast has arrived, and Maud and Bob are ready to start.”
“Are you feeling okay, Briggs?” she asked.
He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted his forehead. “I ate something that might not be sitting well with me. It was so delicious. I couldn’t stop eating.”
“What was it, Briggsy?” Raz asked, assessing the man.
“Seafood, Rocky Mountain seafood,” the agent replied, then released a breathy burp.
Mitch cocked his head to the side. “We don’t have seafood in this part of the country.”
Briggs scratched his chin. “I don’t understand. I ate three platefuls of what Maud and Wobbly Bob called Rocky Mountain oysters. They were fried and had an odd sort of taste to them for seafood.”
Mitch sucked in an audible breath. “Buddy, that wasn’t seafood. You ate three plates of deep-fried bull testicles.”
Briggs stood there, wide-eyed. “Pardon me, but it sounded like you suggested that I consumed the testicles of a bull.”
“Yeah, you did,” Mitch replied. “Those are Rocky Mountain oysters. They’re a delicacy out here.”
“But oysters are in the sea,” Briggs whimpered, turning greener by the second.
“Not in Colorado, they’re not.”
Briggs covered his mouth and convulsed a few times. “I need to return to my room. Can you handle this event without me, Erasmus? It’s only local press—none of the heavy hitters are here.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Just jump in the ring, smile for the cameras, and play nice. No funny business,” the agent cautioned.
“When in the bloody hell have I ever done anything remotely close to funny blooming business? There’s nothing funny about me,” Raz tossed back, going into beast mode.
“There was the incident with the devices,” Briggs answered, waving her way as he stammered between convulsions.
Raz shrugged. “Right, that.”
“Be the benevolent lion. This is good PR. Silas Scott’s been—” The agent burped, stifling his statement.
“Been what?” Raz growled.
“Just mouthing off. It’s not your concern. Your job is to train. I’ll take care of the PR circus. That is, after I…”
“Get rid of three plates of bull testicles?” Mitch asked with a wry grin.
“Something like that,” the agent sputtered. Doubled over, the man staggered through the crowd.
“Will he be all right?” Raz asked as the group watched the sports agent disappear.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Rocky Mountain oysters are delicious. I wouldn’t hoover three plates of them. It’s probably the shock of consuming mass quantities of bull testicles,” Mitch answered.
“Honey, you should probably stop saying bull testicles so loudly,” Charlotte cooed, patting Mitch’s cheek as the screech and blare of speakers coming to life reverberated through the square.
“Hello, folks! Welcome to our first Ass-in-Nine event happening here in Rickety Rock’s town square. I’m Bob Askew, and this is my sister Maud,” Wobbly Bob announced from the center of the ring, then handed the microphone to Maud.
“We’re excited for tonight’s event, Spar with the Beast. We’d like to thank the former heavyweight boxing champion and soon-to-be burro racer, Erasmus Cress, for agreeing to this charity event.”
The crowd erupted into cheers as Raz nodded to Maud and Bob.
“That’s my dad,” Sebastian called. He, Phoebe, and Oscar had positioned themselves up high on one of the carts holding the donkeys’ hay. Double fisting hot dogs, the trio had a terrific view of the ring.
“And before we bring up Erasmus,” Maud continued. “I’d like to introduce the individual who donated twenty-thousand dollars to Rickety Rock Donkey Rescue.”
A young man emerged from the crowd with blond hair. The guy sported a T-shirt and a stylishly bro-tastic wannabe GQ haircut she recognized. He slipped through the ropes and climbed into the ring.
A chill spider-crawled down Libby’s spine.
It couldn’t be.
The man turned, the lights hit his face, and Libby gasped.
It was him.
“What is it, plum?” Raz asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Her jaw dropped, and disbelief coursed through her veins. “It’s him, Raz. It’s—”
“Meet our winner, Derrick Dawson,” Maud announced, cutting her off. The four syllables of the man’s name rang out like water hitting hot coals.
Libby stood there, speechless.
“Tonight, Derrick,” Maud continued, “you’ll spar with the beast.”
Twenty-Two
Libby
Libby stared into Raz’s eyes and watched as the realization sank in.
“That’s him?” Raz asked, gesturing with his chin. “That’s one of those Derricks—the fake venture capitalist blokes? The ones betting against me?”
“Yes, and the first thing he asked me to do when I walked into the conference room was to turn around and bend over,” she uttered, the words tasting like dirt. Memories of the sheer mortification of that day flashed through her mind. She seethed, recalling the Derricks’ stupid smug faces—a trio of spoiled bros, toying with the hopes and dreams of young women in the quest to meet hot chicks. The absolute creeps. At least she’d scared the hell out of them with her power of three curse and gong skills. But it didn’t make the humiliation pill any easier to swallow.
“Oh my gosh, Libby! That’s the guy?” Penny asked.