Blindsided (The Fighter Series Book 1) (11 page)

Me: I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at 10.

Paige: Wait. What? What are we doing?

Me: Wear gym clothes.

Paige: Seriously?

Me: Yeah. Friends hang out and u women like to work out together.

Paige: Cause I’m like all women? See you in the morning.

I’m smiling at the phone, proud of my little move. She doesn’t know that I’ve fantasized about working out with her, but not the treadmill shit. I want to get down and dirty and get her in the ring. I can touch her this way.

My phone dings again.

Paige: Thank you again. Good night. :)

My chest tightens up and I feel a burst of adrenaline. She is all I can fucking think about and now she’s done something to turn me into mush. I’ve been doing my own thing for years without any worries, without any guilt, but this chick has me dreaming of our first kiss. I’ll get it one day, but being a man of my word, I may have to wait longer than my patience stretches.

I didn’t sleep for shit last night. Anticipation has a new meaning to me now. It’s the same pump I get right before a big fight, but this time it’s over a woman, and not just any woman, it’s the one I’ve fantasized about for a little over a month.

I was up before my alarm this morning, showered, changed, and got Adam to take me to my car. And now I’m in front of her house knocking on the door with a heartbeat that sounds like a stampede.

She opens the door and I’m fucked at the sight of her. Black skintight yoga pants, neon yellow sports tank top, her hair sitting high on her head, and her bright pale greens holding solid nervousness.

“Wow.” The word spills from my mouth before I can stop it.

She looks down at herself and frowns. “Sorry. It’s all I have.”

“It’s fine,” I tell her. “Come on, we’re going to be late.” It’s a lie. There’s no time limit, but the longer I stand here, the more my dick is going to pop a fucking tent in my shorts.

“No wonder you hate my cracker box. You were probably embarrassed last night, huh?” she says sliding in my BMW X5.

“A car is a car. Just like you, I’ve worked hard for this one.”

“It cost ten times more than mine.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t work hard for it.”

She doesn’t respond and turns her attention out the window. She rides quietly, not bickering over my choice of music, restlessly twiddling a piece of string she’s found on the end of her shirt. I’ve learned this is her signature move if she’s nervous.

Pulling up to the back of the gym, she takes everything in. It’s nothing impressive. I don’t need anything busy. I like small and easy. It lets me concentrate more and focus less on distractions. I’m ready to get my hands on her, er…rather let her get her hands on me.

“So let me get this straight. Big dude, badass fighter like you and a little shit like me. Is this supposed to be fun?” she says standing in the middle of the ring with a pair of black boxing gloves on. You wouldn’t believe how fucking sexy she looks.

“It’s my type of workout,” I answer her, stepping in the ring.

“Not trying to bitch, but this doesn’t seem too fair for me.”

She doesn’t trust me even after keeping my word on everything.

I stalk over and bend, sharpening my eyes at her. “I want to make sure the next time Wesley’s ass shows up and puts his fucking hands on you, you’ll be able to kick his ass.”

She studies me for a moment before her lips quirk up into a presumptuous smirk—which is fucking sexy. “How do you know I couldn’t kick his ass?” she asks. I hum my laughter and she shoves me. “You don’t have to be big to take someone down.”

“You’re right. But it helps to know what you’re doing. I want to make sure when I’m not there to save your sexy ass, you can handle it.”

She pulls her glove to her chest. “Save me? Oh Levi, my hero!” she giggles.

“You’re damn right I’m your hero.” I hold up the pads. “Now show me your best punch.”

Hips and eyes. It’s all there. Most people have the slightest movement, a quick flinch, a twitch before firing off whatever they’re doing. Some people look where they’re throwing the punch or kick before actually doing it. Yes some can bluff, but your hips do not lie.

She leans way back and slams a punch into my hand. You could have seen that coming from Georgia. “That’s pretty good, but don’t rear back so far,” I tell her.

“Like a jab?”

“Yes, like a jab,” I nod.

She does as she’s told and hits my hand. I’ve never sparred with a woman. I’ve been slapped a time or two, but I think she has potential. “Good. Can you do it with your left hand now?”

We practice punches as she gains confidence. I show her how to throw a sturdy, strong punch and not break a bone. I explain how your elbow is one hell of a weapon and show her different scenarios when she might be able to use it. I demonstrate the proper stance and how it can benefit her strength. She’s a good listener, following all directions. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I like this—having her spar with me.

“Let me show you how to kick.” As the words exit my mouth, she lights up with a wicked smile. I raise a brow. “You like to kick?”

“You can call it that.” She shrugs, but then without warning she hauls off and plants one on my thigh.

Her posture, the technique she used…she’s had some training somewhere. “Who taught you that?” I ask.

“I took Muay Thai for a few years when I was younger,” she says.

I smile a little goofy. “That was the sexiest thing a woman has ever told me.” Immediately I duck from her right hook. “How long has that been?” I say gently trading punches.

“Forever ago.”

“It hasn’t left you. You’re doing good.”

Rules for seducing a woman—blow her head up and give her a compliment where one is needed.

As we spar, we gain an audience. Some of the men gawk at the beauty that’s in the ring, and this time it’s not me. There aren’t many beautiful women in the ring unless they’re holding up round numbers in skimpy clothing.

After thirty minutes or so, she bends, begging for air. “I’ve got to stop.”

“We’ll work on that too,” I chuckle, my dirty mind running rampant.

She looks up to me, her hands still on her knees. “What?”

“Stamina. You’ll need it one day.”

“What the hell for?” she mumbles. “I’m not like you. I’m not a machine. I’m gonna need a nap after this.”

The image of her underneath me, glistening with sweat, skin rosy red from the multiple—
thawp!
She strikes me upside the head with an impressive right hook. I never saw it coming. Rather, I was fantasizing watching her cum in the bedroom.

Her eyes become small slits. Oh, I’m busted. She knows exactly what I was thinking.

“Be proud of that sucker punch, darling,” I say rubbing my cheek.

Chapter 12

Four days, excuse after excuse to not go to the gym with Levi. Truth be told, I’m wicked sore from our romp in the ring. I haven’t worked out like that in years, never had the need to, nor the want. I haven’t told Levi because I’m embarrassed that I’m not as athletic as he is. I’m sure he’d understand, but to admit that I’m a weakling, it doesn’t feel so great.

He texts me late at night and the thought of him keeps me up. I’m wearing thin on energy. I don’t know how he does it. He’s told me to eat right, drink water, blah, blah, blah, all the un-fun stuff there is, but he can have that lifestyle. I won’t do it. There’s not enough money in the world that will make me walk away from chicken wings and sweet tea.

“Are you going to the gym to watch Levi ooze sexy?” Holly asks dreamily with her chin in her hands. She’s crazy about him and swears one day she’ll be able to seduce him. I’ve never seen Levi drink, but I’m sure he’d have to be entirely inebriated and passed out just to be in the same bed as her. No offense to Holly, but she isn’t his type. Her type is very, um, eccentric to put it nicely.

“Unfortunately,” I groan. “I’m still sore from the other day.”

“Ohh, tell him to rub it out,” she says waggling her eyebrows.

I roll my eyes and she laughs leaving to check her table and me to wrap the horrid silverware by myself. I believe he’s her number one crush. Her muse. If he ever needs a bigger ego, I’m sure Holly could help in that department. She’ll blow his head up worse than it already is.

Holly comes around the corner in a tizzy. “What is it about you?” she huffs. “I have a hunk at table eight who wants to talk to you.”

Here we go again. Her definition of hunk can be off the beaten path of normalcy. “Tell him I’m about to leave.”

“I did, and he said for you to join him.”

I poke my head around the corner to see this hunk she’s talking about and the air is sucked out of my lungs. “Shit, Holly.”

“What? Is he not cute enough for you? I mean Levi is hotter but—”

“It’s Wesley,” I interrupt her. “My ex.”

Immediately, her face crumbles. “Oops.”

“Tell him I already left.”

“Yeah, well my mouth already said you were here. I’m sorry. Just go out there and talk to him. You’re in a public place. I’ll kick his ass if I have to.”

I throw my apron down. “I’m not happy about this shit.”

I’m not exactly thrilled to be doing this, but I’m hoping this leads to him exiting my life for good. I approach the table with my things in hand, including a soda, dropping into the booth across from him. “What?” I ask disgruntled.

His square jaw ticks shifting as he wets his lips allowing his smile to make its way to his brown eyes. I remember that look. Always excited to see me, enthusiastic to soak in the sight of me. “Hey to you too,” he says.

“What do you want?” I ask unmoved by the familiar handsomeness.

He takes a sip of his drink before answering me. “We haven’t spoken in years, Paige. I’d like to catch up.”

I lean my elbows on the table and squint. “I have nothing I’d like to catch up on. I don’t care how you’ve been. I don’t care if life has been treating you well, and I really don’t care what you have to say.”

“Yes you do,” he retorts.

“What the hell gives you that idea?”

“Paige, I’ve known you for eight years and dated you for three of them. I think I know your looks. I know if I push you enough you’ll break.” He spreads his hands showcasing the table. “Now look where you’re at. So can we drop the pissy feelings you’re holding onto and talk like civilized people, or are you going to keep up the high school shit?”

That’s Wesley—Mr. Know It All, egotistical, and always has to be right. I take a deep, angry breath and offer a fake smile batting my lashes. “Wesley, it’s so great to see you.” If sarcasm could kill, we’d all drown in the shit right now.

“I’m good, better now. You?”

I lean up again. “I’m great, but this is about you. Keep on the subject, please.”

There’s a long pause and I sit back watching the bubbles in my drink fight, bumping into each other, forcing their way to the top just to burst and be no longer.

Then he breaks the silence. “I never got the chance to say I’m sorry.” That catches my attention and I snap my eyes to him. “You know what you saw that night…I was an idiot and I’m truly sorry.”