Strong and Steady Read online

  “I love the way you blush.” He ran a knuckle down my warm cheek, which made my face heat even more. “Ready to get out of here?”

  I could only nod, still stuck on Emory’s type. I followed him to the truck, and his gaze raked over my body as he opened the door for me.

  “So, yoga?”

  “It’s not MMA, but it’s a good workout,” I replied, getting in.

  “I can tell.”

  Was his voice a little rough?

  He climbed into his seat, turned on the engine to get the air conditioning going. His truck was new and big and… huge. It had a full backseat that could fit a few extra cowboys. The engine rumbled with as much testosterone as the owner. Yet it was somehow understated and immaculately clean. It matched Gray’s personality.

  Turning to face me, he said, “We can go to the bar and meet up with the team, but they’re going to be three beers in by now and singing crude drinking songs as loud as they can. Most guys probably haven’t showered, which won’t be pleasant, so I was thinking we could get some lunch on our own. Something a little less crazy.”

  He sat less than two feet away. I could clearly see the scar in his eyebrow, the start of new whiskers on his cheeks. One of his ears had a hint of fighting damage to it, cauliflower ear, that he’d pointed to. But that was all superficial. Inconsequential. It was his eyes that hooked me. The way he looked at me with that dark, piercing gaze as if I was the only person around. In this case, I was, but he was completely and totally focused on me, not the car blaring its horn on the street, not the bad song that came on the radio. It was as if he wanted to be just with me.

  I licked my bottom lip, and he sucked in a breath. “What about your friend, Thor?”

  “He texted me while I was in the shower. Laura, his wife, didn’t want to waste a babysitter on a bunch of drunk guys singing off key. Her words.”

  “Yeah, I don’t blame her. Thor’s a smart man for doing what she wants.”

  He cocked his head in question.

  “If she gets what she wants, I promise you, he’ll get exactly what he wants,” I explained. I folded my hands in my lap.

  He nodded slowly, thinking about my words then grinned. “So if I take you where you want, will I get exactly what I want?”

  My eyes widened. Even though the air conditioner was blowing out cool air, it was awfully hot inside the cab all of a sudden, and my heart skidded to a halt. “And… um, what is it that you want?” I whispered. I was dying to know and petrified to find out.

  “Your phone number.” He grinned at my expression. It must have been priceless because I was expecting him to say something completely different, something that involved a first-date BJ. And he knew that.

  Shaking my head slightly, I laughed as I retrieved my cell from my bag, handed it to him. He fiddled with it for a minute, then I heard a ring from his pocket. He gave the phone back, put the car in gear and backed out of the parking spot.

  “There, now you have my number, too.”

  8

  EMORY

  * * *

  I let Gray decide where to eat lunch. He took me to a place in the foothills, nestled in a canyon and beside a fast-moving creek. We ate outside on a patio by the water. It wasn’t fancy, and he’d said the place was famous for their wings. I was the one who’d grown up in the area, and I’d never heard of the place. Gray ordered a bucketful, and we’d discovered we both liked them hot. An extra plate sat between us where we tossed the cleaned bones. Another had celery and carrot sticks and a dish of dressing. It was a really smart choice on Gray’s part. It was slow eating wings, so we were able to linger and talk. Our hands were busy the entire time, which helped to avoid awkward moments. It was also a messy task, and it was hard for me to take anything too seriously when we both had hot sauce all over our fingers and mouths.

  It was after three when Gray pulled his truck into an empty spot just down the street from my house.

  “I had a really good time. Thank you,” I said.

  He turned off the engine. “You’re welcome. I did, too.” He shifted his shoulders to face me. “Do you work this week?”

  I nodded. “I work a consistent schedule. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, seven to seven. Days.”

  “Those are long shifts.”

  “They are, but I only work three days a week, which is nice.”

  All of a sudden, I started to feel nervous again, the panic and confusion on first-date etiquette clogged my brain. Was I supposed to kiss him as a thank you? I wanted to, boy did I, but I didn’t know how to initiate. It was going to be an awkward kiss because I felt awkward. Did I lean in first? Close my eyes? Did I—

  “Would it be all right if I called you?” he asked, breaking into my ridiculous train of thought.

  “Oh.” That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. Once again. I figured he’d ask if he could come inside. Every single time I thought one thing, he did the unexpected. “I… I’d like that.”

  I licked my lips again, and I couldn’t help but fiddle with the seat belt. I wanted to look anywhere but at him. It would be rude to bolt from the truck, so was I supposed to open my own door? He’d done it for me all the other times today. “Gray—”

  “Breathe, Emory.”

  This had my gaze whipping up to his.

  “What?” I asked, my voice a little high pitched, and I blushed.

  “You seem… nervous again.” His dark eyes met mine then drifted to my mouth.

  “I am,” I admitted. I gave him a thin smile. “I know your neat-freak secret, so I’ll tell you one of mine.”

  He cocked his head to the side slightly. I recognized this as something he did when curious. “Okay. But it’s got to be a good secret. I mean, being a neat freak is pretty hard to top.”

  I rolled my eyes, instantly relaxed. “I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen now. I’ve… I’ve never really been on a date before. I know, this was just a coincidence, but still.” I glanced down at my lap then back at him. “I met my ex in college, and we didn’t really date. We skipped a whole bunch of steps for us to get to the one where I got pregnant by mistake. Then married. Then fourteen years later, divorced. Those two awful blind dates I mentioned don't count, so I think this is actually my first real date.”

  He looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled. “I really like that I’m your first.”

  I looked at him sideways. “It… doesn’t bother you? I mean, I’m pretty much guy inept.”

  He reached across the center console and brushed a lock of hair that had escaped my ponytail back from my face, tucked it behind my ear. It seemed to be something he really liked to do, and I didn't mind. At all. I lifted my eyes to meet his as he ran his finger down my cheek. The feeling was exhilarating, the skin he touched tingling in his wake. I really wasn’t breathing now.

  “That you’re not a player?” His voice was almost a whisper. “That you’re smart and honest and open and starting your life all over again?”

  “Well, yeah.” I sighed because he understood.

  Instead of answering my question, he asked, “Do you know what happens now?” He dropped his hand. “At the end of a date?”

  “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

  “Right, a coincidence,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up. “Let’s pretend it was a date then. Do you know what happens?”

  The truck seemed very small all of a sudden. “Well, I have some ideas.” I lowered my eyes to his mouth.

  “Such as…” His dark voice trailed off.

  “My single friends always talk about kissing or asking a guy inside, or they talk about their one-night stands and even their walks of shame.”

  “I never want you to do a walk of shame, Emory.” He sounded a little mad mentioning that.

  He took my hand, held it beside the gear shift. His fingers were warm, his touch gentle as his thumb rubbed over my palm in slow circles. I felt the zing behind this simple gesture all the way to my toes. I darted a look up at his eyes
and saw the same reaction I felt, the same flare of heat at the simple touch.

  “I don’t want a one-night stand with you. You’re not going to ask me inside either. I’m the one that’s going to seduce you, Emory, which means you’ll be in my bed. Soon.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “I want to kiss you. Jesus, I want to taste you, but I want you to be ready first.”

  I frowned, surprisingly turned on by his words. He was rejecting me? Wait, he said he was going to seduce me. That I was going to be in his bed.

  “Gray, I don’t under—”

  He gave my hand a little squeeze to silence me. “When you’re ready, you won’t be nervous or unsure, like you are right now. You’ll know. You’ll want it just as much as I do. I’ll be waiting.”

  Holy shit.

  9

  GRAY

  * * *

  “No, do it again. You need to get the bend of your elbow beneath their chin in order to get the choke.” I yelled at the guy I’d been training all afternoon, running my hand over my neck in frustration. He wasn’t getting it. We were on the mat, and he was practicing his Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. He wanted to break into the MMA pro circuit, but as a stand-up fighter, his groundwork needed serious help, and he wasn’t picking it up fast enough for his first fight. But that was why he'd hired me, to literally beat him into shape. We’d been at it two hours now and everyone needed a break.

  He tried it two more times, sitting behind his partner, wrapping his arm around his neck the right way for the choke. With the slight change in position, his partner tapped out, which meant he would have passed out if he hadn't used his hand to tell the guy to release. Besides knocking someone out cold, a tap out was the only other way to win a competition that didn't involve a judge's call. No fighter wanted to go all the rounds and let the judges decide. We wanted our opponent to submit. “Good. Now do it ten more times each, then get some water.”

  The Muay Thai class was just finishing in one of the classrooms as Thor came over, rubbing his face with a gym towel draped around his neck. He had tape over his knuckles and hands from hitting the heavy bag and was working his way through his water bottle.

  It was six, and the gym was hopping, the after-work crowd getting in their workouts. Classes ran back to back for three hours. Next up, beginner Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. The instructor was on the mat in his formal white gi, showing a new student how to tie his belt. I wore a T-shirt with the gym logo, Muay Thai shorts, and my feet were bare. No shoes were allowed on the mats, and I’d had to get in the ring and work hand to hand for a while.

  “How did your free afternoon with Laura go?” I asked, grabbing my cell from behind the front desk. I’d sent Emory a text earlier instead of calling, knowing she worked all day, and I didn’t want to interrupt her.

  Taking out my aggressions in the ring instead of deep breathing in the yoga class.

  It wasn’t anything interesting, but I wanted to send her something. I wanted to have her smile, even if I couldn’t see it. Yeah, I might have acted like a thirteen-year-old girl with a first crush, but I wanted her to know I was thinking about her. I couldn't stop remembering the way she blushed, the scent of her, the sight of her muscles, all lean and strong from yoga. And having her underneath me on the mat, hell, the feel of her lush body was imprinted on my brain. I couldn't forget if I tried.

  For some reason, letting her know I was stuck on her was important. She was important. I had no idea why—I’d only held her hand, for Christ’s sake, but maybe that was reason in itself. Besides the MMA championships, she was one of the only things in my life I had to work for.

  No, that wasn’t right. I’d had to fight my way out of my father’s house, fists up, deflecting his physical blows until I was around sixteen and grew bigger than him, then built up my defenses against his verbal assaults until graduation when I shipped out for Basic Training. But that had been surviving, and that was different. If my middle school gym teacher, Mr. Johns, hadn’t picked up on what was happening and shifted my anger from lunchroom brawls to the ring, I’d probably be in lockup right now.

  Being a Marine had been easy. Running a business was easy. Working hard for something, putting blood and sweat into it, made it important. Made it special, and Emory was special. She wasn’t throwing herself at me. The opposite, in fact. If I hadn’t invited her to the flag football game, I wouldn’t even be a fucking blip on her radar.

  Sure, she was a challenge, and I never backed down from challenge. But this wasn’t a fight, conquer and win situation. And that was the kicker. I had no fucking idea what I was doing. I actually texted a girl. Fuck, a woman. Emory was all woman.

  She wanted me. I’d seen it in her eyes when she’d been beneath me in the ring. I’d seen it again when I walked her to her door after our not-date yesterday. I knew the signs, and I’d desperately wanted to act on them. But I’d only have conquered her body, and that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to get to know her, and I wanted her to give herself to me, even a little bit at a time. Then completely. I didn’t want to take.

  She’d written me back, and I wasn't going to deny I liked the little rush that gave me.

  Trying to finally touch your toes?

  I couldn’t help the shit eating grin on my face. She hadn’t sent anything else, not that I expected it since she was working. I could only imagine the stuff she dealt with, the horrors she saw with her job in the ER. I'd taken some people to get stitched up a time or two, been there on occasion as a patient myself, but nothing worse than stupid shit. Getting the crap kicked out of you in the ring was nothing in comparison to the harsh reality of the streets. As long as she was safe in the ER when she dealt with the bad stuff, I was fine. I only wanted to show Emory my controlled side, but if someone fucked with her, she’d see the real me, the hard, dark parts that lurked beneath the surface.

  Thor dropped down beside me, squirted water into his mouth, swallowed, then wiped the sweat from his face with his towel. A guy his size would sweat another half hour before he cooled down enough to grab a shower, so we sat at one of the long metal benches beneath the big calendar of monthly classes and events.

  “The date went great. We got ice cream from the drive-up place by the highway and just sat there,” he told me, propping his head back against the wall. “Held hands and watched the cars go by. For an hour. Then our date continued when we went to Target for shampoo and a new toilet bowl brush. Without the kids. No toy aisle. Plus, there was air conditioning.” He took another swig of water. “I know you’re going to think we’re crazy, but it was heaven being in a store without a kid holding onto my leg or hiding in the clothing displays.”

  I shook my head in male disgust. This big giant of a man, the friend I’d known for years, put toilet bowl brush and date in the same sentence.

  “When we got home, the kids were out cold. The babysitter’s a miracle worker. So the date continued.” He wore the grin of a well-satisfied male.

  Emory had been right. Thor did what Laura needed, and she gave him—from the shit-eating smile on his face—amazing sex. Emory had no clue about dating but could clearly see relationship dynamics for others. I never, ever wanted to be the guy who was thrilled picking out a toilet bowl brush, but I’d never tell that to Thor. I wasn’t that stupid. I leaned forward, so my elbows rested on my knees, watched the activity in the gym. Two guys jumped rope in the corner. The beginner Jiu Jitsu class was stretching out. Several guys worked the bags with punches and kicks. The two I'd been training were on the treadmill.

  “How’s Emory?” Thor asked, wiping his face again.

  “Good. We went to the Roadhouse and got wings.” We’d spent two hours eating and talking, and I’d enjoyed watching her get messy. She’d forgotten how nervous she was and lost her skittishness as she worked her way through a bunch of hot wings. I’d been able to see her, and I really liked what I saw, even with spicy sauce on her fingers and mouth. She might not like Rocky Mountain Oysters, thank fuck, but the wings had been a hit.

  “She
seems… different,” he added.

  I thought about that. There was no comparison between her and the women who threw themselves at me, or I'd taken to bed in the past. I’d always just been looking for an easy lay, a reprieve from my life. I didn't date. I didn't have long term relationships. Hell, Emory had been the first woman in my apartment besides the house cleaners.

  She hadn't pushed her way in either. I'd brought her. I hadn't thought about it, considered what I was doing. I'd just let her in, and it had been… easy. With Emory, I wanted more. I wanted her, fuck, I wanted her more than any woman. Ever. I wanted to learn her body, to watch her as I explored her curves, to see what made her hot, to see what made her eyes go dark with passion. To have her beneath me again, and not on the hard surface of the ring with a bunch of guys wondering about the woman who'd snagged my interest. I wanted her in a soft bed… and naked. To know what she looked like when she came all over my cock. I shifted on the bench. “She didn’t know who I was.”

  He was wiping his face with the end of his towel but lowered it to look at me with wide eyes. “No shit?”

  “I told her, but she didn’t seem all that impressed. She wanted to see inside the gym and seemed impressed for what I accomplished, definitely, but not overly interested that I was famous for it.”

  “Her friend knew who you were,” he replied.

  I grinned. “Yeah, and she thought I was gay because of it.”

  Thor laughed, and the guys jumping rope turned their heads to look at us.

  “Are you going to tell her about the shit with your dad?” he asked, the smile dropping as he wiped more sweat away. He shifted his gaze to the two guys just starting a round of sparring in the ring, knowing it was easier to talk this way, without looking at each other like a bunch of girls at a sleepover.

  I dropped my head, looked at the concrete floor between my bare feet. “Fuck if I know, but I’m sure she learned a fair amount with a computer search by now.” The shit with my dad was out there on the Internet but not the full story. Enough, though, to drive her away. “I held her hand. That’s it.”