When Colleen Fights Graham

Stepping to the center of the mats, Graham motioned to her. “Come on. You said you needed to hit someone.”

“You are something else, Harrigan.” She stepped toward him, arms in a guard position and they circled each other. He took in the smooth way she moved, the confidence in her eyes. She flashed him a huge grin and the next thing he knew, she’d swiveled around, thrust a hip into his gut and he was flat on his back, staring up at her.

“Not fair.” He jumped to his feet. “You cheated.”

“Cheated? I took you down fair and square.”

“You smiled. I got distracted.” He brushed his hands against his jeans. “Won’t happen again. Two out of three?”

They circled again. “How did you know I could spar?”

“I didn’t. But I figured I’d let you pound on me, I’d show you a couple of throws, or I’d have taken you over to the bags and let you punch to your heart’s content. Which we could still do if you prefer.”

“Afraid I’ll hurt you?”

He grinned. “Try it.” He crooked his fingers in invitation. Nobody got by him twice. Colleen came at him with a right jab, but he was ready. He blocked it, grabbed her wrist and stepped in with his left foot. His right forearm to her chest, his right leg sweeping behind to kick hers out from under and this time she was on the mat, with him kneeling beside her.

“You got lucky.” She accepted his hand and he helped her to his feet. “I was letting you get complacent.”

He got the next fall, but it took a lot longer. There was something comfortably familiar about the way she moved, not unlike sparring with his colleagues. She blocked most of his moves and got in a few clean hits of her own. They were both breathing harder now and his shirt stuck to his back. “That’s two out of three,” he panted. “Want to call it a night?”

“Not on your life. I’m just warming up.”

There was a fierce determination in her eyes and he knew she was no longer thinking about anything except getting him to the floor. For a split second he thought about letting her get past him and knew it would be the end of anything remotely resembling a friendship. He took what she threw at him and gave her as much. In a sudden spurt, she managed to get through his guard. She stepped in close and grabbed his left sleeve and wrapped her right arm around his waist. She swiveled around, pulled him onto her back. A second later he found himself rolling over her hip and flat on his back again. She had one hand at his throat and was poised above him, her knee precariously close to doing serious damage. He didn’t dare move. He looked into her green eyes, her face glistening with sweat and he reveled in her satisfied smile.

“This one’s mine, Harrigan,” she said, one hand on either side of his chest, straddling him.

“No question about it.” She edged forward and he drew in a sharp breath. “But, given where you’ve got your knee, I think you should call me Graham.”