Blindsided (The Fighter Series Book 1) (5 page)

I point to the building behind him. “I had to work.”

“Well, maybe next time then.”

Frustrated, I huff. “No. No next time. What is with you? What do you want?”

“A date,” he says brazenly.

“I’m not a piece of ass, Levi. I won’t stand for it. Plus, you’re preoccupied enough,” I state remembering the blonde teething at him the night before.

A low gruff rumbles from his chest and his nostrils flare. “Just because I said I’d wait doesn’t mean I’ll torture myself with blue balls. And who said you’d just be a piece of ass?”

Conceited much?
“Do you find me stupid?”

He rushes forward, wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his body. Our hips connecting, my upper body forms against his chest and my right hand holding the gun goes limp. His smell, the way his powerful arms hold me close with tenderness initiates a burning ache that buzzes between my legs as he bends placing his lips just a fraction of an inch from mine. His eyes flick from my lips to my eyes, a smile ticking the corner of his cheeks.

“I didn’t say you were stupid,” he whispers low and gravelly. He scans my face again soaking everything in—neck, jaw, cheek, ears, forehead, finishing back at my eyes. “Tell me this doesn’t feel good, Paige. Tell me you don’t want this.”

Yes please!
“I-um-I…” My brain fails as it has melted into a glob of goo.

“See. Quit fighting what your body wants. Let me take you out. I promise no funny business.”

I’m at war with my mind and body. My body humming with pure desire, I fight the urge to press my lips against his. My brain is sending red flags, shooting flares into the sky hoping for someone to come rescue me.

Finally, I inhale, shaking his minty fresh scent from my foggy brain, and make my feet find their place here on the ground. I straighten up, pulling back slightly and he releases his grip.

“I’m not the girl you’re wishing me to be,” I tell him.

His smirk is starting to grow on me—yes, the arrogant, cocky one. “I’m just asking for dinner.”

Back to being grounded, I roll my eyes. “And probably for me to spread my legs wide open for you.” No sooner than my words exit my mouth, his eyes drop to the apex of my legs. Fed up, I shove him in the chest. “Kiss my ass, Levi.” I twist around and head toward my car, putting my gun back in my purse. Just the thought of being someone’s one night stand pisses me off. And knowing that’s all I’m wanted for really hurts my feelings.

“Is that what you want? I’ll gladly do it,” he shouts behind me.

The thought alone does some insane things to my senses. Him dragging his lips down my back, over the curve of my—nope! Stop! I’m desperate to get away from the spell he’s trying to put on me. I grab my door handle.

He bellows out a hard laugh. “Is this your cracker box?”

I spin around and narrow my eyes at him, pissed that he would dare to pick on my 2004 Scion XB. “Yes and I’ve worked my damn ass off for her. She’s reliable and she’s mine,” I snap.

I jerk the door open and toss everything in the passenger side then drop into my seat. Levi grabs my door before I can shut it. “Paige—”

“Goodnight, Levi,” I interrupt irritated. “Thank you for the tickets. Sorry I couldn’t come and congrats on your win.”

He looks surprised. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” I reply cranking my car and pulling my door shut. I’ll have the last word this time. Because this time, I’m fighting thoughts and collecting the glob of goo I’ve become.

“Well, sleeping beauty, are you going to wake up and move out of my spot?” Blain’s voice pulls me out of the best damn nap ever.

I didn’t have to work today and decided early that it would be a lazy day. The house was empty, the television was boring, so to dreamland I went. “You could have left me and sat on the loveseat,” I respond groggily rubbing my eyes.

“You could have fallen asleep on the loveseat,” he oh-so-kindly reminds me.

“You’re such an ass,” I jest.

Forcing myself off the couch, I stumble to the loveseat and drop down, pulling my legs up and forcing myself into a comfortable ball. Blain’s coffee brown eyes are gleaming as he reaches in his back pocket and produces a blue envelope identical to the one Levi gave me last Friday and drops it on the table. Perplexed, I stare at it like it’s about to get up and do a back flip off the table.

“Do you have to work this Saturday?” he asks.

“Yeah, why?” I play dumb.

“Levi came to my work today and gave me tickets to his fight this Saturday. He said he felt bad for getting off on the wrong foot.”

That son of a bitch.
I haven’t seen or spoken to him since last Saturday night when I left him in the parking lot. I didn’t see him at the bar Tuesday night and he hasn’t popped into the restaurant. It’s been peacefully quiet although he’s engulfed my thoughts. I have fought tooth and nail to keep his pompous ass out of my mind, but somehow he’s managed to get under my skin. And now this?

“How in the world did he find out where you worked?” I ask.

“I wondered the same thing, but he skirted around the question when I asked him. I don’t really care. They’re free tickets. We’ve always watched the pros on TV, now let’s go watch someone climb the ladder to the top in person,” he says.

“So go,” I tell him. “Take Jason or whoever.”

He pushes air through his teeth. “Are you kidding me? It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity that I get free tickets to an MMAT fight, the same shit we watch on TV and you want me to take someone else? Are you drunk?”

“I just don’t want to give him the wrong impression.”

“He’ll be too busy with the fight. After it, we’ll jet out.” He waves his hands. “Poof, like a magic trick.”

“You’re a dumbass,” I laugh. “Let me think about it. I’ll look at the schedule at the bar tomorrow.”

“Deal,” he says, then leans back on the couch and goes on to tell me about his day. I’m half listening, worried I’m going to have to hear more about blood and guts and half focused on the channels he’s flipping through. So far I’ve caught cat and dog checkups but then I get stuck on the word snake. I’m the epitome of a girl when it comes to them. I scream and jump, running with my arms flailing if I even see one through a glass window. Personally, I’d rather watch a gory operation than to see a snake. Nope. Not this girl. I may be able to hang with the boys, but slithering, scaly, creepy-creepers. Nope. Just no.

My phone rings, interrupting the torture of Blain’s snake story. Without hesitation I grab it and answer.

“Hey, Paige,” Jim, my manager from Tonic says. “I, uh, I’ve been looking over the schedule and it’s been a while since you’ve had a weekend off. I’m going to have Marissa come in and give you a break. That sound good with you?”

What a freaking coincidence.

What the hell happened to his best getting the best?

Something sounds fishy about this. “Um, sure?” I reply dubiously.

“Great. You’ll be back on regular schedule Tuesday.”

“Yeah, sounds great,” I lie. No it doesn’t, not one damn bit. I have no excuses now.

I sigh when I hang up, arching a brow at Blain. “What did you do?” I basically sing.

“Whatcha talking about, baby girl?” he replies confused.

Could he have pulled strings to get me off this weekend?

I study him for a moment trying to figure out his bluff, but he’s emotionless. “Nothing,” I finally mumble.

He stands from the couch applauding. “And the best lie goes to Paige Madison.” He cups his mouth and begins to make a roar sound from his pretend audience. “Hey, Johnny, tell her what she’s won!”

I giggle at his horrible announcer voice. “It’s just weird that you wanted me off this weekend, and that,” I point to my phone on the table, “was Jim giving me the weekend off. So what did you do? Did you stop and talk to him or something?”

He frowns. “Why the hell would you think I would do something like that?”

Guilt begins to tug at me for accusing him, but before I can apologize he jumps up and throws a fist in the air. “Hell yes! We’re going to a fight!”

Chapter 5

We’ve already flashed our tickets to the big burly, yellow-stained teeth man that was standing at the entrance. He patted us down just before making us walk through a metal detector then flashed me a wicked smile and told us to have a great time. He made me feel uneasy and filthy, like I needed to go home and take a shower immediately.

Most of the men here are large, barrel chested and built as if they should be in the ring themselves. They all swagger with tattoos and have those weird piercings that stretch their ear lobes and look ridiculous. And the women, well, some are wearing just enough clothing to cover up their privates—things meant for much younger and more fit women to strut around in. You wouldn’t catch me dead in most of it. I’m clearly over-dressed in a pair of jeans, blue tank top with a skull on it and grey cardigan.

“Holy shit, Paigey.” Blain stops and grabs my hand pulling me out from behind him. He points to two black seats with red cushions and a sign sitting on both: Reserved. “Look how damn close we are to the ring.” He sounds like an excited little boy getting his first Big Wheel for Christmas.

We’re front row of the biggest section and literally closest to the cage. My nerves spike. There’s no way he won’t see us. There’s no way I won’t see him half naked, sweat dripping from his beautiful body, his muscles flexing…I’m a wreck.

Blain nudges my shoulder. “If this was on TV you’d be jumping around ready for the fight. You should be thrilled,” he says loudly over the crowd.

I look at the seats then back to him. “Look how close we are. He’s going to know that I’m here.”

“What if he doesn’t care?”

I open my mouth to respond but quickly shut it. The thought has never crossed my mind. What if he doesn’t care and this is an honest apology to Blain? I had my chance and didn’t take it so why would he waste his time on someone who isn’t interested?

As we settle in our seats I take everything in. The rubber coated metal of the fence, the black skirt that flows along the bottom, and the bloodstained mat. That’s when it occurs to me that if someone gets busted open, I will smell the copper, I will see the blood pouring from the open wound, and I know there’s a chance it could be splattered on me. The thought makes me nauseous. All the emotions—excited, nervous, stoked, scared—it’s all overwhelming.

A tap on my shoulder makes me jump and I twirl around. A very large muscular man in a black shirt with “Stiles” printed in bright yellow lettering on the front stands directly to my right. “Are you Paige?”

Unsure of what’s going on, I nod. “Uh, yeah?”

“Levi wants to see you,” he informs me.

I turn to Blain in disbelief giving him the “I told you so” glare, then back toward the man. “Um, well, tell him I said thanks but no thanks. Oh! And tell him I said good luck.” I smile satisfied with my response. I think it was nice of me.

The man’s brows furrow as he leans down eye level with me. “All due respect, Paige, you can tell him yourself. You couldn’t pay me enough to go back there without you.”

My nerves have me wanting to run out the door. Flee the scene and not look back, but for some ridiculous reason courage is barking out of my mouth. “A man like you afraid to tell him I said no?”