Crazy Maybe
Authors: A. D. Justice
Crazy Maybe
A.D. Justice
Crazy Maybe
Published by A. D. Justice
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, distributed in print or electronic form, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 A. D. Justice
ISBN-13:
978-0615925769
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to Pete “
Choo-Choo
” Justice – my Daddy. He passed away during the creation of this book and I miss him every single day.
I love you, Daddy! I will always be Daddy’s girl!
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(In order of appearance)
The songs included in this book add flavor to the storyline.
Listen to the words of the songs as you read along.. I hope you enjoy the musical aspect of the story!
- I’m With Yo
u–
Avril Lavigne - Stupid Girl
s–
P!nk - Button
s–
Pussycat Dolls - Beautiful With Yo
u–
Halestorm - Familiar Taste of Poiso
n–
Halestorm - Crazy In Lov
e–
Beyonce - For My Sak
e–
Shinedown - Just A Foo
l–
Christina Aguilera & Blake Shelton - Umbrell
a–
Rihanna - Indestructibl
e–
Disturbed - Gunpow
der and Lea
d–
Miranda Lambert - I
f Today Was Your Last Day - Nickelback
CHAPTER ONE
ANDI
I feel his eyes, burning into me, from all the way across the room. I’m in a gym with more than twenty sweaty men, some of them are sparring in boxing rings, others lifting weights, and I suddenly feel the weight of someone’s eyes on me as if it were a hand actually touching me. I let my eyes slowly wander around the lower level of the 20,000 square foot
Tough Enough
gym and our eyes lock onto each other. There’s no doubt that he’s the one - because he’s staring at me and I swear if he were Clark Kent, his eye lasers would already be burning through me right now.
I’ve never seen him here before and I’ve been here every day for almost seven years now, so I know he
must be looking to join. This is one of the most sought after gyms by up-and-coming fighters because of Mack Weaver, the owner and famed boxing trainer. Mack has a knack for finding the next big name in fighting and every guy here is waiting for their turn. Mack took me under his wing years ago and I’m the only one who’s ever been brave enough to call him Pop. He allows it because he knows he’s the only real father I’ve had since mine died when I was little.
I remember seeing this guy at the club last night. He was actually hard to miss because I could feel his eyes on me then, too. Of course, I was onstage singing karaoke so there were a lot of eyes on me, but his are the only ones I
felt
. He’s tall, over six feet, with thick, jet black hair that could make a woman beg to run her fingers through it. His cheekbones and jaw must have been carved from pure granite and his naturally tan skin color makes his blue eyes fierce. And he is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
He must be quite a brawler – in the ring and in the street. I can tell by the way he carries himself and how he’s not the least bit intimidated being in this room with all the other boxers. He’s definitely a heavyweight because he’s too big and muscular for anything else. Watching his ripped, hard muscles flex and contract as he moves is hypnotizing. And the mixture of black and colorful tattoos that cover his upper arms amplify his bad boy looks.
It’s pretty obvious why he’d even notice me – I’m the only female in this gym full of muscle-bound boxers. But the look in his eyes is not one of curiosity about what I’m doing here. It’s not even blatantly sexual, like some of the guys who rake their eyes up and down my body when they first see me. He looks at me like he’s a predator that’s about to pounce and devour me whole. I’m not sure yet if that’s a good thing. His gaze is intense and I can’t figure out what he wants with me.
A lot of the guys have hit on me when they were new to the gym. They figure since I’m the only girl here, I must be looking for my next fighter to take home with me. And, since every single one of them think that they are the
only
man God made for a woman’s pleasure, they are more than happy to help me out. Never happens though – I work with the fighters and there’s no way I’d disrespect myself like that. But I don’t get that feeling from him – I don’t think he’s trying to add another notch to his bedpost.
I know I’m staring at him but I can’t seem to stop myself. Neither of us are moving or even smiling but I feel electricity arcing between us as he moves closer and closer. I’m vaguely aware of the yelling going on around me. It’s so frequent and familiar in this gym that I tune it out a lot. When there are two guys beating the crap out of each other in the ring, someone is always ye
lling. But it suddenly occurs to me that I need to be engaged in this particular fight, so I tear my eyes away from his and try to focus on what’s going on in the ring.
I’m not actually a trainer but after being beside Pop, at the side of the ring for so long, I’ve picked up a thing or two. My job right now is to watch the fighters closely and figure out their weaknesses so they can each work on improving their skills. I watch to see when their guard is dropped, if they open themselves up more when they throw a certain punch, and anything else that could make them lose a fight. It’s a tough job sometimes when both guys are going at it hard. Or when I’m distracted by a tall, sexy man who is standing directly behind me and has my skin tingling like I’ve touched an electric fence without even laying a hand on me.
I inhale a deep breath as the bell rings, signaling the end of this round, and I turn around to face him. What I see first when I turn is a finely sculpted, very thick chest staring back at me. I slowly lift my eyes, taking in his tattoos peeking out from under the tank top that’s stretched across him. My eyes glaze over at his bulging biceps and traps, before I dare to look into the deep pools of his blue eyes. I could drown in these eyes and die happy. This is so not like me.
“You looking for someone?” Mack’s voice calls out to the dashing stranger.
“Yeah - Mack Weaver. Know him?” The dashing stranger answers Mack but doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“I’m Mack. Over here, boy.” Mack’s rough voice sounds even more intimidating now, deep and commanding. I don’t know if it’s the lack of eye contact or the blatant way this guy’s staring at me that has Pop riled, but I have a feeling it’s probably a little of both.
One side of his mouth quirks up slightly, as if he’s amused but hiding it from everyone but me, before he turns his eyes to Mack. And in that look, I’m pretty sure he recognizes me from last night, too.
He holds out his hand to shake Mack’s, “Lucas Woods. Good to finally meet you. You’re highly recommended. I’m here to talk to you about you taking me on, being my trainer.”
Mack looks him up and down with his all-too-knowing eyes. Mack can size up a fighter faster than any trainer I’ve ever seen. He used to be a boxer himself, when he was younger and “had more piss and vinegar than sense,” as he always says. Now he just likes working with the guys and seeing how far he can take them. He already has a serious contender lined up for the light heavyweight division and he doesn’t usually take on more than one at a time since almost all of his time is devoted to his fighter.
Vaguely aware that Mack and Lucas are continuing their conversation, I can’t help but take in all that the view has to offer. I’m consciously trying to keep my breathing under control – that’s how much he affects me. His manly cologne mixed with a scent that is purely him is like an assault to my senses and an aphrodisiac I wish I could bottle and sell. As I blatantly check out his tattoos, one unique design on his bicep
catches my eye and I realize I’ve seen him before last night at the club. How could I have not realized this was the same man?
LUKE
When I decided to come to this gym, I had no idea she would be here. But as soon as I stepped inside, she’s all I saw. Whatever reason I had just flew out the window as soon as I saw her standing there. Her blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail and the pink horizontal streaks match that skin tight tank top she’s wearing, showing off her muscular arms and perky breasts. Those toned legs seem to go on forever out of those short Yoga shorts she’s wearing, the ones that hug her hips and ass so well that I can see the muscles flexing and contracting underneath when she moves.
She feels me staring a hole into her from behind, I know she does because she turns her head and her eyes meet mine. And just like that, we’re connected from across the room. My feet start moving towards her without conscious thought. All I know is after seeing her on stage last night, and the way she looked right into me
as she sang, I will have her one way or another. Seeing her here today is a sign, but the way she’s looking at me right now is proof.
I don’t know what she’s doing here with all these damn guys, most of them boxer wanna-bes. Maybe she works here? Or maybe she’s dating one of the dickheads sparring in the ring? Either way, I’d gladly take on either or both of them for just one night with her. Though I seriously doubt one night would be enough for me. If the look in her eyes is any indication, I won’t have to work too hard for it. I’d bet serious money that she wants me as much as I want her.
I don’t see any other women in here but there’s no way anyone could miss her. Not just because of her hair, or that sexy right arm with a sleeve of tattoos that stretches up onto her shoulder, but because she is the most beautiful creature ever. She looks the complete opposite today than she did last night at the club.
Today, her face has a serious,
don’t-fuck-with-me
look and is scrubbed free of makeup. Last night, her hair was down, long and wavy around her face, her eye makeup had a come-hither look to it, and her clothes were less revealing than what she’s wearing now but were still sexy enough to make me have to keep certain parts of me under the table well after she left the stage. She’s gorgeous either way, but all I can think is how much I want to grab her hair – whether it’s down or in a ponytail – in my fist and completely own her.
Apparently someone has noticed how I’m looking at her because the booming voice alerts me that I may be standing a little too close to her. But even as I speak to the voice that asked what I’m looking for, I’m having a really hard time tearing my eyes away from her. I give her a small half-smile when I hear the pissed off tone answer me, and I finally turn and introduce myself to
the
Mack Weaver. The man I’m here to talk to about being my trainer and helping me become a professional boxer.
I hold out my hand to shake Mack’s, “Lucas Woods. Good to finally meet you. You’re highly recommended. I’m here to talk to you about you taking me on, being my trainer.”
He looks me over, sizing me up and with this guy, I know first impressions are very important. I just hope my blatant ogling of this girl doesn’t get me immediately tossed out on my head. I stand tall, in my fighting stance, and let him make his decision.
“Any experience in the ring, kid?” Mack asks, piercing me with a somewhat sideways glance, as if he already knows the answer and is waiting for me to confirm his assumptions.
“Not professionally, but I’ve done pretty well in the unofficial circuit,” I answer confidently.
His smirk tells me he knows exactly what I mean. It’s kind of like saying a homemaker is a domestic engineer. It’s the same fucking thing – only the title makes the job sound more appealing. I know this, he knows it, but I’m sticking with my version of it. I would never show anyone that I’m ashamed of it, ashamed that I haven’t made more of myself in all of my 26 years. And I’m not about to start in front of
this
man, either.
After what feels like a damn eternity, but really was probably less than a minute, our staring contest comes to an end when Mack nods. I hope it’s an approving nod but either way, I’m not leaving here without accomplishing what I set out to do. I will become a professional fighter. I think he sees the determination and complete resolve in my eyes.
Mack holds his gaze directly on mine, his challenge to me is clearly being set. His normally deep voice seems to boom even more as he says, “All right then. Let’s see what you got, kid. Andi, check him out for me – put him through the usual and see if he can hang with the big boys.”