Page 9 of Phoenix's Redemption

"Trust me." I extended a band toward him. "These will help isolate and strengthen the muscles without straining your wrist."

He snatched the band from my hand with a scoff, his skepticism written in the tight lines of his face. After showing me his disapproval, he looped the band around his palm, flexing his shoulder with a controlled pull.

"Good." I stood close to him where I could see how he worked the band. "Now, smaller movements. Engage the right muscles."

My fingers traced the path along his arm, guiding the motion. His muscles tensed under my touch.

The session dragged on. I corrected his posture, adjusted his grip, and spoke of patience and precision, words that didn't sit well with a man used to applying force than reigning it in.

"Enough," Liam finally grumbled, dropping the bands to the floor. He rolled his shoulders, testing their freedom.

"Feel that?" I asked.

"More range," he admitted, rotating his wrist with a grimace that faded into surprise. "Less pain."

"Exactly." I concealed my triumphant smile. It was a small victory, but I'd take it.

As we wrapped up with some gentle stretching, I noticed the way his gaze lingered on me longer than necessary.

"Maybe you do know your stuff."

"Maybe I do," I echoed, allowing myself a moment to savor his concession.

"How about we grab a drink? There's this dive down the block." He toweled off his neck. “It’s not fancy, but the drinks are good.”

"Who says I need fancy?"

His eyes glinted with mischief. "You don't look like the type of girl who visits dive bars often."

I gave him a withering look. "You don't know what I like."

"Maybe I might want to find out." The flirtatious edge in his voice was like a physical touch. It sent a ripple through me, stirring between my thighs, an insistent throb that spelled trouble.

“I want to shower first. Meet you out here in about thirty minutes.” I headed to the women’s locker room.

By the time we reached the bar, the dim lighting didn't do much to hide its worn furniture or the years etched into its wooden counters. Even with the rough edges, I liked the nostalgia of the place. The low light made it cozy. Liam and I found two stools at the bar and settled in. I tugged at my simple t-shirt, stretching it over the waistband of my yoga pants. They were the only clean clothes I had in my gym bag. Not exactly date night attire, but this wasn’t a date.

Or was it?

Liam ordered us a round. The bartender slid two frosty glasses our way. "Cheers." Liam clinked his glass lightly against mine.

"Cheers," I echoed, before sipping the dark ale. Notes of coffee and chocolate bubbled on my tongue. “After the military, did you know you wanted to be an MMA fighter?”

He took a sip then set his glass down, his gaze fixed on a distant point. "It seemed like a good deal since I didn’t have anything else going on. My mom was my only family before she passed.”

“I’m so sorry.” I wanted to put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but I stalled, not sure if he wanted the contact or for me to acknowledge his grief. I kept my fingers on the cold glass of my beer. “I’m sure she’d be proud of the man you are today.”

“I don’t know. Before I joined the army, I used to be buddies with a professional criminal.” He paused, his jaw tightening. "I learned to steal. I picked up some bad habits from him before I decided to change.”

“What happened to him?”

“He went to jail. I went to the barracks.”

I listened, the weight of his words settling between us. He was letting me see more of the real Liam O’ Connor, the man who remade himself and earned the ring name Phoenix. “You both made choices. Yours gave you a new lease on life. His put him behind bars.”

He gave a single nod to my simplified way of seeing it. “It’d be easier not to have my kind of past.”

“Maybe, but you should be proud of turning it around for yourself, Liam.” This time, I was bold enough to pat him on the back. His muscles were warm steel beneath my palm. “And I’m not saying it because I used to be a cop.”