Going the Distance (No Excuses Book 1) (4 page)

They took the next exit, and after a few turns, she pulled up to the side of the road. He looked around the dark neighborhood. Cookie-cutter houses, a few duplexes, and an apartment building in front of them.

“You’re going all out, aren’t you?” he said as they got out of the car.

“What were you expecting?” she asked, coming to stand beside him on the sidewalk.

He looked around again. “I don’t know. A hotel? Strip club, maybe?”

Her eyes twinkled back at him. “Come on, Punisher. Let yourself be surprised.”

The way her face lit up surprised him enough. He followed her to the apartment building, up the stairs and waited behind her as she knocked on the door of apartment 12. By now, he was seriously wondering what the hell they were doing there. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone with her after all, considering that she’d been pissed as hell during their first meeting. Was she trying to pull some shady shit to get back at him?

The door opened and an old man stared back at them. He was about Trent’s height, had a full head of gray, wiry hair and ruddy cheeks that showed signs of aging, but his eyes were sharp and discerning as he sized Trent up.

“Hey Hank, how you doing?” Samantha greeted him warmly.

“Sam, it’s about time. Adele’s been keeping the food warm.” He stepped aside and there was nothing for Trent to do but to follow her into the old man’s place.

He did a quick assessment of the inside and determined there was nothing to fear but the silk flower arrangements which decorated every corner of the room.

“Trent, this is Hank,” Samantha said, smiling at him. “Hank and his wife Adele made us dinner.”

Just then, an elderly woman walked into the living room, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. She was a good head shorter than Samantha, with a frail body and gray hair tied up in a bun, but her smile made her seem larger than life.

“Well, if it isn’t Sam and her new boyfriend,” she said good-natured.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” Trent corrected at the same time as Samantha. Their gazes met before Samantha turned her attention to the old couple.

“Thanks so much for having us over. It’s very sweet of you.”

Trent had no idea what the hell was going on. He merely stood beside her like a statue on display.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam’s boyfriend,” the old lady said, holding out her hands to him. He grabbed them and her warm fingers gave him a squeeze.

“Nice to meet you too, Adele. And Hank.” He extended his hand to the old man who shook it.

“Well, come on in, don’t just stand there like two awkward love birds,” Hank said.

Adele led the way, followed by Hank, then Samantha and Trent. He pulled her wrist to get her attention and leaned to whisper in her ear. “What are we doing here?”

“Having dinner,” she said over her shoulder.

There was no time for details as they entered the kitchen and dining area, where the table was set. A large bowl of mashed potatoes, a platter with meatloaf, and green beans awaited them. It smelled good enough, but it sure beat the shit out of him why they were having dinner with the old folks.

They sat down and Adele served them. Trent took everything in in silence. He’d never been more confused in his life. Hell, even his loss to Povetkin hadn’t thrown him for a loop as much as this.

“I hope you like meatloaf,” Adele said, handing him a full plate.

He took it and smiled at her. “Love it.”

“Good. How about you, Sam? Hungry?”

“Starving,” Samantha said, giving Trent an amused look as she took the offered plate from Adele.

“Dig in, boy,” Hank said gruffly, “before it gets cold.”

Trent watched as everyone took their first bite, then he grabbed his fork and did so too. This was not the surprise he’d expected. At least there was no guy with a chainsaw waiting to cut him in two.

“I hope it’s to your liking,” Adele said, looking at him expectantly.

He took a bite of the meatloaf and nodded. “It’s fu—”

Samantha’s head snapped up to glare at him.

“It’s great, thanks,” he quickly corrected himself, making a mental note to keep the cursing to a minimum.

“It’s nice to finally meet one of Sam’s boyfriends,” Adele continued.

“Adele, he is not my boyfriend,” Samantha remarked with an indulgent smile.

Trent wondered what the relationship was between them. They weren’t her grandparents, of that he was sure, but what then? Family friends?

“Trent is a good friend of mine,” she said, catching him off guard. Other than when the introductions had been made, this was the first time she’d actually referred to him as Trent, not Punisher or his last name. She sounded like she was talking about a regular guy she knew.

“He is a boxer and I’m hoping to interview him for the paper,” she continued, looking at him across the table.

He returned her stare, but didn’t respond. This dinner, whatever this was supposed to be, didn’t merit a goddamn interview, that was for sure. If she wanted an interview, she’d have to do a hell of a lot better than this.

“What’s your last name?” Hank asked next to Trent.

“Page.”

“Trent Page?” Hank mumbled, squinting in concentration. “The Punisher?”

Trent nodded and smiled. At least Hank knew who Trent was. Samantha rolled her eyes as though reading his thoughts. He gave her a smug grin.

“Well, gosh darn, I can’t believe we’re having dinner with Trent Page,” Hank said, slapping the table.

Adele looked up at her husband in surprise.

“He’s a well-known boxer,” Samantha explained to her.

“Is that right?” Adele asked, seeming interested but not overly impressed.

Hank set his fork down and held up his hand as he addressed Samantha. “You’re not giving the man enough credit, girl.” He turned to Trent and slapped him on the shoulder. “He’s an excellent fighter. Can’t believe he’s in our house eating meatloaf and mashed taters.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it either,” Trent said under his breath.

“Say, you just lost your first fight.”

Samantha’s gaze never left Trent. He wondered if she was taking mental notes, hoping to get snippets she could include in her article.

“That’s right,” he told Hank, and pierced some green beans with his fork.

“Damn shame,” Hank replied, shaking his head. “An unblemished record, except for that one bullshit fight.”

Trent’s eyebrows rose and Adele admonished her husband for using such language at the dinner table.

“It’s true, what?” Hank shot back. “If you ask me, that third judge wouldn’t know his own head from a horse’s ass. You were robbed, Trent, robbed.”

At first, Trent had thought the same thing, but after watching the tapes over and over again, he was starting to see that Povetkin had been doing a better job throwing power punches and jabs, which had made an impact on the scorecards.

“Thanks, Hank, I appreciate that.”

He took another bite of the meatloaf and relaxed in his seat. This wasn’t so bad. Not that it would get Samantha anything, but at least he could enjoy the meal. Hank and Adele seemed like decent enough folks.

“Before I forget,” Adele said, looking at Samantha, “your mother stopped by today.”

Samantha’s forked stopped midair as she got that deer-in-the-headlights look. “My mother?”

“Yes, such a nice lady,” Adele replied, setting her utensils down and pouring water into her glass. “Can’t believe we’ve never met her before.”

Trent watched Samantha squirm in her seat.

“Did she talk to you?” she asked, looking down at her plate.

“Not much, just asked if she had the right apartment and when you’d get home.”

So they’re neighbors.
Trent was all ears.

“Told her to wait here, but she didn’t want to be a bother,” Hank said.

Samantha merely stared at her plate in silence. Trent had come to think of her as a dangerous firecracker ready to explode at any moment, but right now, she seemed the opposite of that.

“Thanks for offering your place to her,” she said, then did a little head shake. Suddenly a bright smile was back on her face again as she looked up at Hank and Adele.

“You don’t have to thank us, dear,” Adele said, patting Samantha’s hand. “Your family’s always welcome here. And your special friends.”

Adele gave Trent an implied look and he had to laugh. “Thanks, Adele. If I’m ever craving meatloaf and mashed potatoes, I’ll know where to find you.”

“Hell, we’re just glad that Trent Page paid us a visit,” Hank said, pushing his empty plate away.

“You want seconds?” Adele asked Trent, holding out her hand for his plate.

He was stuffed, but handed his plate over. “Sure, thanks.”

Samantha smiled at him over the rim of her water glass and he wondered just what exactly she’d been trying to achieve with this visit. He got some food, unexpected new friends and a small insight into the mysterious reporter, but other than that, nothing worth breaking his rule over. No interview tonight.

He took the full plate from Adele and dug in again. Judging by how full his stomach was, he wouldn’t be able to do shit in the gym after this and he’d have to call it a night.

They sat at the dinner table for a while, talking about all sorts of things. Hank asked about Trent’s fights and most challenging opponents, and in turn told him about his career in the navy. Adele spoke of her knitting buddies, but Samantha didn’t say much at all. She was a quiet observer, nodding and smiling when appropriate. At least her guard was down and she seemed to be enjoying herself. He hadn’t seen her smile this much before.

After dinner, Adele served cinnamon coffee cake which Trent forced himself to eat, despite being uncomfortably full. Once the last bite was gone, he announced that he had to get going and the old couple walked them out.

“It was a real pleasure meeting you, Trent,” Hank said, shaking Trent’s hand at the door.

“You too, Hank. Thanks for dinner.”

“Don’t thank me, thank my wife.”

Trent turned to Adele, ready to shake her hand, but Adele pulled him into a hug instead. He was too surprised to react, so he simply let her do her thing until she let go.

“Thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly and stepped back.

“Alright, have a good night you two,” Samantha said and walked out the door with Trent.

Hank and Adele watched them walk down the stairs, then Trent heard their front door close and lock.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Samantha rummaged in her purse. It was dark now and Trent looked at his watch.

“I didn’t realize it was so late.”

She pulled the keys out of her purse and led the way to her parked car. “Starting to turn into a pumpkin, are you?”

“Any minute.”

As she stopped to unlock the car, he came up behind her, standing so close he could smell her shampoo.

“Dinner was good and all, but what else you got in store for me, babe?” he whispered in her ear.

She turned slowly, teasing him with those lips that were inches away from his. “You mean this wasn’t enough?”

He chuckled. “Not nearly.”

Her eyes twinkled up at him. “I figured as much, which is why part two is coming in a week.”

“Part two?”

She nodded, giving him a mysterious smile.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that. If you’ll throw chicken-fried steak at me next week, that’s not gonna get you any closer to the interview.”

She threw back her head and laughed. It was one of the most satisfying sounds he’d heard in a long time.

“I’m not arranging for another meal, Punisher. But my end of the bargain comes in several parts, so you’ll just have to be patient.”

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and grazed her cheek with his thumb. “I hate being patient.”

“What a surprise,” she said, staring up at him.

He lowered his thumb and ran it over her bottom lip, relishing the fact that he’d been right about how soft it would feel. Jesus, he was getting a fucking hard-on from running a finger over her lips.

“Will part two be worth my time, then?”

Her lips parted, and for a second, he thought she’d lick his finger, but instead she pulled her head away and nodded. “Every second of it.”

He inhaled deeply and let his disappointment flow out of him with a loud sigh. “I hope so. This is dragging on for far too long.”

She walked around the car and opened her door. “All good things come to those who wait, Page.”

“Those good things better include crotchless panties and high heels,” he grunted, getting in.

She laughed again, dashing his hopes. So much for dreaming, he thought displeased as they drove away.

As promised, a week later, Sam made her way to Trent’s gym to pick him up. It was Saturday afternoon and she hoped he remembered their appointment. She hadn’t bothered following up with him to remind him because she’d been preoccupied with other things.

Her mother hadn’t come back for a visit after that one time she’d shown up unexpected, and Sam was on pins and needles. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in a while and was only getting updates on them from her uncle Roy. The last she’d heard, they had gotten out of rehab and were doing good. Real good. That didn’t mean anything though, as she’d heard that before. Having her mother show up at her apartment unexpectedly was unnerving. What did she want? Money? Sam wasn’t going to give her any even if she had some. She’d done that one too many times. She was only taking care of herself now, not supporting her parents’ drug habits.

She checked her reflection in the mirror before getting out of her car. Good, her makeup was still in place. Hopefully the chaos her mind was in wasn’t showing on her face. Between worrying about her family and the security of her job, she was starting to get gray hairs.

This assignment was taking too long and her boss was getting impatient, but she knew she couldn’t rush her plan. If she wanted to convince Trent to give her an interview, she had to be strategic about it. She had two more activities lined up and hoped he would warm to the idea of cooperating over time. Just to be sure though, she’d applied an extra dose of mascara and glossed her lips this time. If all else would fail, she’d have to be extra damn charming.

When she got to the gym, Trent was just wrapping up his training, so she told him she’d wait outside. There was no way she was going to wait in his locker room again. The memories of that day would haunt her for the rest of her days.

The man talked like he seriously needed a good smacking upside his head, but he looked like he was made to please a sex-starved woman. And his come-ons weren’t helping either.

She prided herself on being able to control whatever situation she found herself in, but being around him was dangerous. She knew he was teasing her on purpose, and what she should be doing was to walk away, but it was hard to do when he was showing skin and muscles and tattoos like he was the latest circus act. And then he’d touched her cheek and her lips that night after dinner, and she’d just about melted in his hands. She should know better than to fall into his trap. He’d told her from the beginning that he pulled this kind of stuff with every girl coming his way, so why was she not thinking clearly? He didn’t care about her and simply wanted to get her into bed. And yet, she shamelessly wanted him too.

She huffed in frustration just as he walked toward her.

“Our night hasn’t even begun yet and you’re already sighing?” he asked as he approached.

“It’s not going to be our night,” she pointed out and started heading toward her car, “so don’t get your hopes up.”

He stopped walking and scowled at her. “We’re not going back to Hank and Adele’s, are we?”

She started laughing. “No, we’re not. Now come on so we won’t be late.”

“Late for what?”

She unlocked the car and opened her door. “For what I have planned.”

He shot her a sideways glance as they got in. “Should I be worried?”

“Yes,” she teased, starting the car. “Nothing would give me more pleasure than seeing you turn into a scared rabbit.”

He shook his head. “You’re a sadistic little minx.”

She chuckled and drove down Main Street. The windows were rolled down and she breathed in the fresh air. The sun wasn’t setting for another couple of hours and the weather was perfect for a walk in the park, but that didn’t matter since they weren’t going to spend time outdoors. She’d thought long and hard about what she could offer him in exchange for an interview, and ultimately, it had come down to activities that she could afford and that hopefully would make an impact. So far, he hadn’t been too impressed, but she hadn’t expected him to be over the moon with last week’s dinner. It was a slow process and she hoped he would be patient, just as she’d asked him to.

“Do you always drive like a woman possessed?” he cut into her thoughts.

“I have places to be.”

“This fucking second?” he asked, holding on to the grab handle above his head.

She didn’t bother replying, but slowed down. A few minutes later, they parked the car and he looked at her unsure. “Where are we now?”

“At the ice skating rink.”

“You’re fucking kidding, right?”

She shook her head, got out, and noticed him frowning at her over the roof of the car.

“Have you ever been ice skating before?” she asked.

“No.”

“Today you can cross that off your bucket list.”

“No fucking way.”

“Why?”

His brows came down low over his eyes. “Because I don’t skate.”

“Don’t be such a chicken, Punisher. You’ll like it,” she said, slamming the door shut and walking toward the entrance. She heard him slam his door and follow her.

“I’m not fucking scared,” he shot back behind her.

“So what’s the problem, then?”

He grumbled and sped up until he caught up to her. “The problem is, I don’t wanna do this.”

She stopped and faced him. “Did we make a bargain or not?”

He looked into her face. “Yes.”

“And did that bargain state that I would make it worth your time?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust me and come on. You might actually enjoy yourself. And if all else fails, you can always hold my hand.”

He didn’t seem amused.

“Trent, how about you get out of your comfort zone and try something new? I’m not here to torture you. It’s ice skating, for Christ’s sake.”

She hadn’t realized it would be this difficult to talk him into doing such a harmless activity. Good Lord, you’d think she was asking him to jump out of an airplane.

He inhaled deeply and walked toward the entrance without another word. She got the tickets and led the way to the rental station, where he wasn’t pleased about having to put on skates that other people had worn.

“I forgot, you’re used to gold shoes on your feet, your highness,” she teased as she laced up her skates.

He mumbled under his breath and struggled with his laces. She knelt before him and proceeded to tie the skates for him.

“When I pictured you on your knees, this isn’t what I had in mind,” he said, looking down at her.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be picturing me on my knees,” she shot back and pulled the laces tight.

“You’d rather I picture you on your back?”

She focused on the second foot. “Actually, I’d rather you didn’t picture me at all.”

“I can’t make that promise, babe, cause I picture you all the time. In bed, in the shower, in the kitchen.”

Her head shot up. “The kitchen?”

He gave her a devastating grin. “What do you think kitchen counters are for?”

“Prepping food?”

He laughed. “Not in my house.”

“Ugh,” she grunted and pulled the laces as snug as she could. “Remind me to never eat off your counters.”

“That would mean that you’d actually step foot in my house. Did we get to that level already?”

She tugged his pants over the skates and stood up. “We’re never going to reach that level, Trent. Not in a million years.”

He got up and was unsteady on his feet, so she reached out to support him.

“In that case, I’ll just have to let my imagination do its job,” he concluded, trying to balance.

“How about you let your imagination take a break?” she mumbled as she led him to the rink.

He wasn’t doing too bad so far, but they weren’t on the ice yet. She released her hold on him as she stepped onto the ice. Once she found her balance, she held out her hand for him to grab, and he looked at her unsure.

“It’s alright, just grab my hand and put one foot in front of the other,” she instructed. He did so and managed to get both feet on the ice. His legs wobbled and the look on his face was priceless.

“Come on, scaredy cat, I’ll show you what to do,” she said, holding his hand while taking a baby step. His other hand grabbed the rail as though he was holding on for dear life.

“This is bullshit,” he declared, moving awkwardly.

She pulled them both to a stop. “Here, move your feet this way,” she said, showing him what to do. She let go of his hand and took a few steps around him, making sure to show him how to turn and how to stop. His lips were pressed together, but he was focusing.

She took his hand again and pulled him toward the center of the rink. Thankfully there weren’t that many people to maneuver around, which would have been cause for concern because he really was moving like a bull in a china shop.

“How’s it going?” she asked, giving him a sideways glance.

His brows were furrowed as he focused on each step. “I could think of a million other things I’d rather be doing right now.”

“Yeah, but remember, you wouldn’t be doing those million things with me,” she said with a smile.

He turned to look at her and promptly lost his balance, landing hard on his butt and pulling her on top of him.

“Goddamn! That hurt like a motherfucker.”

She tried to push herself off him, but was having a hell of a time between his frustrated attempts to move and the slippery ice.

“Don’t move,” she said, righting herself. Once she was up on her feet again, she held out her hands to help him up.

“I give up,” he declared, shaking his head.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she replied, trying to grab his hands, but he moved them out of reach.

“I’m not kidding, I quit.”

She let out an exasperated sigh and loomed over him. “I don’t even know why they call you The Punisher, cause right now, you are as harmless as a kitten.”

He scowled up at her.

“Tell me again how you got that nickname?”

“I beat my opponents into submission.”

“That’s hard to believe,” she said, giving him a disbelieving look. “In fact, it’s hard to believe that you won so many times, seeing how quickly you give up.”

“Very funny,” he shot back dryly.

She shrugged nonchalant and skated in circles before him.

“I didn’t just earn that nickname in the ring,” he said, wrapping his arms around his knees in a leisurely way.

Oh brother. Here we go again.

“Please, enlighten me,” she remarked without much enthusiasm.

“Oh, I’ll enlighten you, alright,” he said, reaching out his hand to her. She grabbed it and intended to pull him to his feet, but instead, he pulled her down onto his lap. “All in good time, babe.”

She stared into his face inches away from hers and realized for the first time that his eyes were actually a deep, dark blue, not the brown she’d thought. His hair, which was a couple of inches long, was brushed away from his forehead, allowing his stern gaze to penetrate her. The scruff he’d been sporting the last few times had grown out into a beard, concealing his full lips.

She swallowed, remembering suddenly that she was sitting on top of him in the middle of the ice skating rink.

People must think we’re crazy.
She did a quick assessment of the place.
Okay, so the three people who are actually here must think we’re crazy.

“What’s the matter, pussycat? Suddenly at a loss for words?” he said in a raspy voice.

She tried to think of something clever to say, but she really was at a loss for words.
Great.

“How long are you letting this thing grow out?” she blurted out, running her fingers over his beard. It had been staring her in the face, so it was the first thing that had come to mind.

He smiled and lifted his chin, displaying his facial hair in all its glory. “Why, you like it?”

“It’s alright, I guess.”

“Most women love it.”

“Yeah well, beards can be quite inconvenient sometimes.”

His eyes narrowed as though he was processing what she’d said. She pushed off him, deciding she’d allowed herself enough physical contact to last for a while. Thankfully he attempted to get up as well, and she helped him.

“Are you ready for more lessons?” she asked, wanting to focus on her mission.

He looked unsure.

“Still too scared to give it a shot?”

He squared his shoulders. “Don’t ever accuse me of being scared again, woman.”

“Then don’t act like it.”

“Fine,” he said and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

She couldn’t help but smile as he took a few tentative steps, all the while squeezing her hand almost painfully hard.

“Not bad, Page, not bad at all,” she encouraged him.

They took their time, making it all the way across the rink to the other side, where he needed a break.

He was breathing heavy, but smiling. A real, genuine smile that made her catch her own breath.

“So?” she asked, looking at him expectantly. “What’d you think?”

“It was cool,” he replied in a nonchalant way.

She laughed and shook her head. “I know it was more than that, but whatever. I’m just glad you’re having a good time.”

His smile faded and he looked suddenly thoughtful. She wondered what was going on in his head.

“Show me some more moves,” he said, not letting her into that thick skull of his.

She grabbed his hand again and they set off at a slow, but steady pace. He struggled, but she held his hand the whole time until he seemed more sure of himself, then she released him. He was clumsy and fell a couple of times, but got up and declared he’d try again.

When they finally reached the other end of the rink again, even she was breathless, but she was having fun and could tell he was too. After another break, they set out again and skated for half an hour. Trent became more sure of himself with each step, until finally they were able to skate side by side. They did a couple of laps around the rink and then called it a day.

“You’re a good student,” she said over her shoulder as they left the ice.

“I really fucking tried,” he said, chuckling behind her.

They sat down and started removing their skates.