Why had she invited him there? Had she known Chaz would be proposing? Had she wanted him to see? When she’d looked at him over Chaz’s shoulders, there had been something in her eyes that had made him draw up short. She’d had the look of a deer in the headlights—frozen, unsure whether to run or fight, and doing neither. He punched the bag harder, sweat dripping down his forehead and off his chin, but it didn’t change the fact that Riley hadn’t told Chaz no. “Need someone to hold that for you?” Charlie glanced over his shoulder to see a kid in basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Dark, long, and lanky, he reminded Charlie a lot of himself as a teen. Charlie rolled his shoulders back. If he weren’t already wiped, he’d have refused the kid. He’d have to pull his punches so the teen could keep hold of the bag. “Sure.” The kid exuded confidence as he stepped behind the bag. The way Charlie had been whaling on the thing, it’d be smart to show a little caution. “What’s got you so pissed off?”
