Fight For Her (MMA Fighter Romance Book 1) Page 6

CHAPTER FIVE

  GRAY

  Holy shit. The woman had a son. A grown son, who went to the Naval Academy, which was one of the hardest schools to get into in the country, which meant the kid was fucking smart. Not only that, the kid was willing to dedicate his life to the service of the country. For years. This wasn’t some kid with an undecided major joining a fraternity at a state school so he could party his four years away. Emory had made a man. A man that was most likely going to go off to war. She was here, calm as can be, knowing war could easily be in his future. That feat alone had me admiring her so much. I’d be shitting a brick if my child broke a finger, let alone shipped off to some desert battle.

  I’d joined the Army right out of high school to escape my father and the hell he’d made my life and did enough tours to see evil and knew what her son would see—and live—firsthand. How it changed you. Scarred you. Made you hard. Because of this, but especially my dad, I learned how to fight well enough—and started at a young age—to become a professional when I got out. Won world championships. Built an empire around my name. Then, retiring, I used all that to build a gym of my own, to create new champions. I’d done a lot, accomplished a lot. Was famous for it. Made a shitload of money. But that was fuck-all compared to what Emory had done, and for part of it, it seemed, alone. And she was worried I’d not be interested in her? The opposite in fact. My interest in her only escalated. The question was, when would she realize I was just The Green Machine, a fuck-up from the city and decide to walk away?

  I opened the door to the car for her, admiring her long tanned legs as she slid into the seat. Once the engine was on, I rolled down the windows. “Might be better with a little fresh air so I don’t scare you off. I’m pretty ripe.” I picked a blade of grass off my dirty shirt and tossed it out the window.

  She looked me up and down in a way that had me shifting in my seat. It wasn’t blatant, but she’d scoped me out and I couldn’t tell if her cheeks were pink from being caught at it or from the heat of the car. “Rugby seems like an interesting sport.”

  “Never seen a game before?” I looked over my shoulder and pulled out into traffic.

  “No. I’m an expert on soccer, basketball and lacrosse. Rowing, too.”

  “Your son?”

  “Yes. His name is Chris. Sorry, I don’t mean to talk about him.” She tucked a curl behind her ear as the wind picked up.

  I stopped at a red light and turned to look at her. Even with the windows open I could pick up her scent. Something flowery or fruity, maybe coconut. Shampoo? Whatever the hell it was it was going to drive me insane when I switched to air conditioning. “Why? He’s your son.”

  “Yeah, but most guys aren’t interested in hearing about kids.”

  I gripped the wheel. “Now you’re hurting my feelings. I’m not most guys, Emory.”

  Even with the heat I could see her blush this time. She bit her lip, but met my gaze. “Wow, you’re right. I’m sorry.” I saw her throat work as she swallowed. “I told you I wasn’t good at this. It’s been a long time…a really long time.”

  “How long is really long?” Six months? A year?

  “I was nineteen when I dated Jack, my ex. That’s it. Well, since the divorce I've gone on a few—two—blind dates and they were bad.” The way she said the last led me to believe they'd turned her off dating entirely. “It's safe to say I haven't really dated in this century.”

  Holy shit. How long had it been then? No guy had claimed her since her divorce? Jesus, what was wrong with the guys in this city? Hopefully their fuck up was my gain.

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with a guy, so I’m probably going to mess up a lot. I’m giving you advanced warning, but you probably already knew that from the other night.”

  She wasn’t a virgin, but she might as well have been, because she was so damn innocent, so…sweet that it was fucking incredible. She wasn’t playing games because she didn’t even know how. That meant it was my job to put her at ease and make her feel safe in her time with me. Safe just to be Emory and nothing else. No guile, no angles.

  I gave a small head shake. “You aren’t supposed to do anything except sit there looking so damn pretty and talk to me. Okay?” The light switched to green and I shifted into gear. “How about you tell me about your job.”

  She looked at me for a long moment, then leaned her head back against the headrest and sighed. “I’m a nurse practitioner. I work in the ER at University Hospital.”

  “Impressive. That must be pretty intense.”

  “I just started in the ER in the spring after working in hospital administration for years. It had a better schedule for dealing with a high schooler. I’d rather be hands on though with patients, so the ER is definitely the place to be now that he’s away at school.”

  “Baltimore’s a rough city. I’m sure you’ve seen some bad stuff.” I paused, drummed my fingers on the wheel, thinking of the shit she saw on a daily basis. The shootings, the crackheads, the wife beaters. “That’s why you wouldn’t drink the water I gave you.”

  “See, I’m not actually that crazy. I’m just experienced.” She covered her face with her hands, groaned. “Oh, God. I can’t believe I said that.”

  I grinned at her slip. She was so damn sweet. “That’s good to know.”

  She laughed off her mistake. “I’ve just learned a lot, the hard way.”

  And that made her wise. Knowledgeable about life. It gave her so much more than all the groupies I’d ever met. Emory had lived, survived and still was so fucking innocent in so many ways. The thought that a guy like me might touch her and tarnish her, to wear that innocence away had me downshifting and snapping us against our seat belts around a turn.

  It wasn’t just her sweetness that I was drawn to. Her ponytail whipped around from the breeze as I drove the ten minutes to my building and the scent of her shampoo—it was fucking coconut—was driving me insane. It was hard to keep my eye on the road when her toned thighs were on display. Thank God for shorts. The thoughts I had of her at the moment were anything but sweet.

  “Simon seems nice,” I said, trying to make conversation when all I wanted to do was pull the car over, undo her seat belt and pull her onto my lap.

  “He’s lived next door a few years now and has been a good friend. Plus, he comes in very handy. He picked out the shoes I wore the other night.”

  I glanced down her legs again. This time her words allowed me the chance.

  “The heels?” I remembered those shoes well and spent Friday night thinking about them. The simple flip-flops she wore now were pretty sexy, too, with those bright, shiny nails. Hell, she’d probably be sexy if she wore a burlap sack. “I need to thank him.”

  She turned her head and glanced at me, but couldn’t read her eyes behind her sunglasses. “Oh?”

  “Those shoes looked damn hot and he came to the game with you. More importantly, he left you alone with me. That makes him a great wingman.”

  Her mouth opened and then she snapped it shut. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.” She ran her palms over her shorts. Nerves? “I brought him because I wanted to be—”

  “Safe.” I finished for her, keeping my eyes on the road. “I get it. Really. If I’d turned out to be a psycho, you’d have him to get you out of there. Shows you’re really smart and I like that.”

  “You think I’ve ruled you out as being psycho?” She tilted her head to look at me. Ah, she had sass, too.

  I shifted my eyes from the road. “You got in the car, didn’t you?”

  She didn’t respond as I pulled into the parking lot of my building. It was brick, modern and three stories. The ground floor was a combination of my gym and other businesses that rented the space. There were two floors of apartments above. I’d bought it a few years ago as an investment when I set up my gym and had the top floor retrofitted into just one apartment for me. Living above the gym made life simple.

  Hopping out of the car, I dashed around before she could ope
n the door for herself. I really wanted one more glance at her legs and the hint of cleavage that her tank top exposed before she climbed out. I was a gentleman, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t look.

  “This is my gym.” I pointed to the entrance. “My apartment’s upstairs. Would you feel more comfortable if I showered in the gym, or would you be okay coming up to my apartment?”

  She glanced up at the building, then at me. “Oh.” Taking her sunglasses off, she frowned. I could finally see her dark eyes. A chocolate brown several shades lighter than my own. She wore a hint of makeup, nothing like Friday night, and she looked like the girl next door. I couldn’t decide which look I liked better. Fortunately, I didn’t have to decide. Both did it for me.

  “God, Gray, I owe you an apology. You’ve been nothing but nice and I’ve been…cautious and that has made you out to look like a…a…creep.” She reached her hand out to touch me, but must have thought twice about the action and let her hand drop. “There’s wary and then there’s rude. I’m sorry. Your apartment’s fine. I won’t run away screaming. I promise.”

  I gave her a small nod of acknowledgement and led her toward the entrance for the residences. I used the fob on my keychain to gain entry to the lobby by placing it on the sensor on the exterior wall. “I wouldn’t promise anything yet, my place is a mess.” I pushed the button for the elevator.

  She smiled, clearly relieved I’d let her insecurity slide. The doors opened. “You can’t be worse than a teenage boy.”

  Once we were inside and used my key fob once again to access my floor, I moved closer to her. “I’m glad you’re wary, because that means you protect yourself. I understand, because that’s my job, to help people defend themselves. I’m also glad you feel safe with me. Like I said the other night, I won’t hurt you. No one will hurt you when you’re with me. That’s a promise.”

  EMORY

  The elevator was small, yet when Gray moved toward me, it felt downright claustrophobic. He loomed over me and I had to tilt my head back to hold his dark gaze. A frisson of electricity passed between us and I didn’t know what he was going to do. Was he going to kiss me? I literally gulped at the idea of his mouth on mine. He didn’t scare me, not in the sense that I feared for my safety, but I was definitely scared of how he made me feel. This, this, whatever the hell it was, was making me lose control of my body. With Gray around, it had a mind of its own.

  I cleared my throat, my mouth suddenly dry as he watched me closely. There was no question he meant every word, that he’d beat the crap out of anyone who wanted to hurt me, like a modern white knight. “Okay,” I whispered, knowing he wanted me to say it aloud. His words were like a balm, soothing. I’d been taking care of myself, of Chris, for a long, long time and it felt good, no, better than good, that someone wanted to take that role on for me. I wanted to believe him. I did believe him.

  The door slid open and Gray stepped back, letting me exit first. Instead of opening into a hallway, I stepped out directly into his apartment. It was wall-to-wall windows, the space bright and airy with an open floor plan. The decor was more masculine minimalist than sleek and shiny. The kitchen was modern and stainless steel, the couches leather, the TV large. It was apparent from the space alone that he had money, but he didn’t flaunt it. He didn’t flaunt his fame either. It was a very appealing trait, along with so many others I was slowly discovering.

  “You think this is messy?” I asked, surprised. I knew what male messy was like and this was not it.

  “I have a cleaning crew come through on Mondays while I’m downstairs, so it’s been all week since they’ve been in.” He dropped his keys on a table by the door.

  I walked toward the kitchen. “No dirty dishes.” Turning, I faced the couch, coffee table, TV arrangement. “No empty pizza boxes or game controllers scattered around.” I finished my circle and faced a long hallway down which I assumed were the bedrooms and bath as it was the portion of the apartment with walls for privacy. “No dirty laundry on the floor.”

  Gray shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a clean freak.”

  I put my hand to my heart in mock surprise. “No woman has swept you up? Seriously, I had to ship my son to a military academy in order for him to learn tidiness.”

  “Same for me then, but I joined the army.” He placed his water bottle in the sink, then came over to me, gave me a surprisingly hard stare. He had only touched me once, holding my hand at the restaurant, but this look, I felt it all over. “I don’t bring women here, so this…compulsion I have is a secret.”

  I couldn’t respond to that because my brain was frozen. Didn’t bring women here.

  “I’m going to jump in the shower. There’s juice and iced tea in the fridge if you’re thirsty. The remote for the TV is somewhere near the couch. I won’t be too long since I don’t have to do my hair.” The corner of his mouth tipped up as he ran his hand over his head, the short hairs rasping against his palm. I wondered if it was prickly or soft and I itched to find out. Instead, I only nodded.

  He turned and walked down the hall. As he went, he reached behind his head and yanked his T-shirt off, gifting me with a view of his muscled back, lean waist and a tattoo that took up part of his left shoulder blade and worked its way around his ribs toward the front. Oh my God. That back. The door at the end of the hall shut behind him, then moments later I heard the shower.

  Realizing I just stood there, mouth open, practically gaping at him, I rolled my eyes. I was being an idiot, ogling the man. No, not an idiot, because any conscious woman would ogle him. I mean, that was just his back I saw. The way his biceps bulged with his movements, the way his back was sinewy and V-shaped with muscle had my nipples tightening. And the tattoo! I’d never found them all that appealing before, but I wanted to strip him naked and check out every single one of them. I knew about the one on his arm, and now the one on his back. Were there more? God, if there were—there wasn’t much skin left I hadn’t seen—but I wanted to tug on those shorts to find out.

  Not that I would act upon it; I was a wuss. If I was one of those women at the bar the other night, I'd join him in the shower. That was so not me. I barely remembered what it felt like to have a man-induced orgasm and was pretty bad at sex. Bad enough that I hadn’t been able to keep Jack from sniffing around Paralegal Sue, divorce me and move to California.

  What did guys even want these days? Sex, for sure. But I’d heard, from Faith and Christy and all my younger single friends, that oral sex was done first these days. Even on first dates. Seriously? Was I so old-fashioned I wanted to work my way down a guy’s body?

  Did Gray expect me to give him a blow job? Today? He’d barely touched me, just held my hand the other night, and that had been for show. That was it. Was this even a date? Had he not touched me any more because he wasn’t interested? He said he didn’t bring women to his apartment, so why me?

  Hearing the water shut off had me coming back from la-la land. The guy took two-minute showers like in the military. I hadn’t even moved from where he left me, so I went to check out his view from the large windows. We were above the treetops lining the sidewalk and I could see across the street to the other buildings. This area used to be a suburb of Baltimore but had been absorbed into the city. The small downtown area was thriving with boutiques and small shops, restaurants and coffee houses. I could see why Gray put his gym here; young people, fit people would find the location convenient.

  I moved to look at framed pictures that were on a table behind the couch. One was of Gray competing in a fight, his arm out punching his competitor in the face. The photographer had caught him in motion. Pretty ruthless. Another was of Gray and a few other men, clearly other fighters. I picked up one of him and Thor, both with medals around their necks, both younger. No family pictures, then I remembered he’d said he'd had a shitty childhood.

  “I hope I didn’t take too long,” Gray said, coming out of the hallway.

  Putting the picture back, I looked up at him. He wore tan cargo
shorts that hit the top of his knees and a pale blue button-up short-sleeved shirt. His feet were bare. His male scent filled the air, something woodsy and not too strong. Soap, perhaps? Whatever it was I liked. A lot.

  “Me and Thor, back in the day.” He nodded toward the picture I’d just put back.

  I glanced back at the photo. “One of your competitions?”

  “Yeah, you can see what I look like with my hair grown out a bit.”

  I assessed him, picturing him with longer hair. It was only about an inch long in the photo, but his hair was dark and covered his brow. I wondered if it were even longer if it would curl over his forehead and be unruly. Not his style, it seemed, and I liked Gray with it closely cropped. It exposed him to the world and with it he was saying This is me. He didn’t hide behind anything and I liked that. So far he’d been direct and forthcoming, and it totally, totally, worked for me.

  “I kind of like the clean-cut look,” I admitted.

  He ran a hand over his very short hair, all the while assessing me, perhaps testing the weight of my words. He made a sound deep in his throat. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure.” My flip-flops were noisy on the wood floor as I followed him back to the elevator.

  Grabbing his keys and sliding his feet into a pair of flip-flops of his own, he pushed the button for the elevator, which opened right away.

  “You aren’t skipping a Sunday lunch with family, are you?” He leaned back against the handrail, gripping it.

  Clearing my throat, I replied, “I got divorced four years ago. The house was sold in the settlement and I moved into my parents’ row house in the city.” I fiddled with the strap on my purse. “Yes, it was pretty pathetic, living with my parents in my thirties—with a child of my own. Fortunately for all of us, they retired and moved to Florida a few months later. I decided to stay and live in the house I grew up in, maybe because it was familiar and I needed that, maybe because it was just easy. I had too much insanity as it was with a fourteen-year-old who was angry at his father, at the world. At the time it didn’t make sense to find somewhere else to live, but now with Chris gone, maybe I should start thinking about it.” I flicked my gaze to his and realized I'd rambled. “To answer your question, no. No family in town.”