Winning Love

by Abby Niles

  “How?” Mac sat back on the stool, stunned by what he’d just learned. How had he not known? How could he have not been here for Lance?

  “Piper thinks I took out a loan. In a way, I did, just not a traditional one. The truth is, money like that isn’t given to a guy like me by a suit in a bank.”

  Unease curled in Mac’s gut. “Who did you borrow from?”

  “There’re a few guys I used to gamble with. Remember them?”

  Mac closed his eyes. “You didn’t.”

  “I’d die for her, Mac,” Lance paused and swallowed. “Going to two rich-ass goons was an easy-peasy decision. I think you, of all people, would know something about that.”

  Yeah, he did. He would’ve done anything to save Ally if he’d had the chance. Unfortunately, that chance had never been given to him. “How much do you owe?”

  “A lot.” Lance shrugged. “It’s not like the movies, though. They don’t come banging on my door in the middle of the night and crack their knuckles, threatening to take out my kneecaps with a baseball bat if I don’t get them paid back on time. We have a loan agreement, just like I would with a bank. I pay a set amount each month, about the price of a really nice home. As long as I pay, we’ve got no problems. Except…” He sighed. “I’ve been doing this for two years…and I’m getting tired. But there’s no end in sight.”

  Mac would never have believed he’d ever hear those words come out of Lance’s mouth. Mac surveyed his friend’s face, really studied it. The other day, he’d been too caught up in himself to notice anything except surface things. Upon closer appraisal, dark circles and bags aged his friend’s eyes. Deep grooves bracketed his mouth. Lance did look tired…exhausted actually.

  “I can write a check right now, Lance. Help you out.”

  “No.” Lance shook his head sharply. “Absolutely not.”

  “This isn’t the time for pride.”

  “I pay my own way, Mac. I always have. I always will.”

  “If it’s that big of a deal, we’ll set up an arrangement like you have with these guys. Just a lower interest and stretch out the life of the loan for a few more years.”

  “No. We both know how fast shit can happen. If you ended up needing the money you let me borrow, I’d never forgive myself. All I want you to do is help me train so I can win this fight and hopefully get a shot in the CMC. Things would be a lot easier if that dream came true.”

  “Why don’t I just talk to Ethan Porter? I might be able to get you a fight without all of this.”

  Lance’s jaw tightened. “No. I do this my way or no way. Got it? I don’t want to be known as the fighter who got into CMC because of a favor. I want to get in because I earned it. If I’m not good enough, I’m not good enough. All right?”

  Inhaling, Mac nodded. Although at this particular moment he didn’t agree with his friend, he understood his need to prove himself and take care of his own. “Okay. We’ll train our asses off, then. How about we start right after you feed Skylar?”

  A grimace contorted the other man’s face. “Got to go, bro. I have a repo out in Wichita. Big job.”

  “How are we going to train if you’ve always got to drop everything for a job?”

  A look of helpless determination gleamed out of Lance’s eyes. “Pipedream, right? It’s what I want, but real life has to come first. We’ll train. I was hoping to have my bills squared away before you got here, but it was slow at the beginning of the month, which put me behind. So I’m cramming in everything I can to make my bills. I’ve almost got it all. Once I do, we’ll get busy. Just give me a few more days, okay?”

  “All right. If there’s anything—”

  “Just be here when I’ve got everything squared away.”

  “I can do that.”

  Lance turned, lifted the two plates, and walked over to the kitchen table. “Skylar! Breakfast!” he yelled, then went to the refrigerator and grabbed out a carton of OJ “How did things go with Gayle yesterday? I was surprised she stayed over here. I thought she’d take Skylar back to her place.”

  Mac shook his head. “You were right. She doesn’t have a filter. And she knows how to goad the hell out of me.”

  “What do you mean?” The caution in his friend’s voice was unmistakable. Damn. Lance still wasn’t certain how Mac would react to stress. A pang thumped him hard in his chest.

  “She’s able to throw challenges at me I can’t resist.” He watched Lance pour two glasses of orange juice. “She got me to play Twister, of all things.”

  Lance blinked as he slowly lowered the carton to the counter, then guffawed. “No shit! I would’ve paid good money to see that.”

  “I bet you would.”

  “She’s good people. She has this way with life. She just goes with it. Doesn’t sweat things. It’s rare.” Lance inhaled then yelled, “Skylar! Break. Fast!”

  “I’m. Coming!” came the child’s voice from upstairs.

  “Gayle most likely never had any reason to sweat anything,” Mac said, once Lance stopped chuckling at his daughter’s irritated tone.

  It was the only thing that made sense to him. People who’d gotten raw deals in life had the scars to prove it. And they showed. Every last one of them. His did. Lance’s did. Gayle came across as a person who had never been touched by anything bad. If she hadn’t, good for her. She was able to embrace life and all it had to offer—without knowing there was a dark side that could snatch the good away in seconds.

  “Maybe,” Lance agreed. “Funny, now that you mention it, I don’t think Gayle and I have had a serious conversation about either of us since she moved in six months ago. Hell, she doesn’t even know about Skylar’s illness, unless Skylar has told her. Gayle is always clowning around, and you just have a fun time with her.”

  Not shocking. He didn’t think this woman took anything seriously. “Does she really have a doctorate in meteorology?”

  Not that she seemed dumb by any means, she just seemed the sort that didn’t stick with something for very long—a little on the flighty side.

  Lance snorted. “She does.”

  “And she actually works in her field, or is she like a career student?”

  The career student would fit the way she came across.

  “She actually works in her field.” The feminine voice behind him had Mac twisting around.

  Gayle stood on the top step outside the screen door. His eyes locked on the black spandex shorts hugging the swell of her hips and barely covering the top of her thighs. Holy shit. He slowly lifted his gaze. A matching black tank top with bright purple trim encased her torso and breasts.

  Typical workout attire he’d seen numerous times in the past on the women at the gym, but on Gayle…she wasn’t a tiny wisp of a woman. She was lush, curvy, and filled out her clothes in a way that made his gut clench.

  He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the reaction. Hadn’t he just decided he didn’t need another catastrophe in his life? And Gayle would most certainly bring catastrophe.

  “Hey,” he finally managed. The one word had a husky edge to it that dismayed him.

  A grin curved her lips as she opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. “So…should I be honored or offended that I’m the topic of two sexy men’s conversation this morning?”

  “Honored, of course,” Lance said. “Mac was just letting me know how you got him to play Twister.”

  Mac shot a scowl at his friend. Why would he tell her that?

  “Was he, now? And what did handsome have to say about it?”

  “That he can’t resist your challenges.”

  What the hell was Lance doing? This would just feed her impulsiveness. Not that she needed any help with that, but this would definitely not curb her clever tongue. Thankfully, the pounding of little feet sounded on the stairs and, seconds later, Skylar roared in like a whirlwind. Mac breathed a sigh of relief at the distraction as the little girl kissed her dad on the cheek, then ran to hug Gayle.

  “Hey, cutie p
ie,” Gayle said, squeezing Skylar to her side but staring right at Mac. “You don’t say? You like my challenges, handsome? Want some more from Gayle’s bag of dares?” She winked at him and that dreaded jolt hit him low in the gut.

  Fuck. How was the woman always so on? She never missed a beat. Never got flustered. And it flustered the hell out of him, especially since she caused this new need to spiral up in him. One that seemed to be growing stronger the more he was around her—if his reaction to her sudden presence at the door was any indication.

  He needed to get control of this right now, before the woman got any ideas. “What are you doing here so early?”

  “Go eat,” she said to Skylar. She waited until the little girl was sitting at the table, scarfing down her breakfast, before she returned her attention to Mac. “I came for you, handsome.”

  At the unexpected answer, his mouth dropped open as his stomach clenched tight again. Came for him. Did she have any idea how damn erotic that sounded? Of course she did. She was Gayle. Was she fucking with him again? She’d enjoyed the hell out of that yesterday.

  Either his expression asked that very question, or she read his mind, because a wicked gleam entered her eyes. “Not this time. I really came for you.”

  “For what?” He was pretty damn proud of himself for keeping his tone guarded.

  “I’m getting ready to go to the rec for Zumba. Want to join me?”

  “Zumba?” All evocative thoughts evaporated at the mention of the workout class. Was she for real?

  Lifting her arms above her head, she swung her hips in an erotic circle that drew his gaze to them. He jerked it back up, determined to keep his wayward eyes on her face and not her luscious body.

  “Yeah,” she said. “You know, Latin aerobics class?”

  “Are you asking me to go to Zumba?”

  Lance guffawed in the background, seconding how outrageous the idea was.

  “Uh. Doesn’t ‘want to join me’ imply that?” Her brows drew together in confusion, then she laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys.”

  “If you mean the type who doesn’t participate in a chick’s aerobics class then, yes, I’m exactly that type.”

  There was no way in hell he was going, and it wasn’t because of the dancing. His gaze dropped back to her hips. Dangerous. She was fucking dangerous.

  She pouted out her bottom lip, drawing his attention to the plump, inviting flesh. That tightening hit his gut yet again. Damn, he was going to have to stare at the ceiling to be able to have a conversation with this woman.

  “Oh, is the poor manly-man scared he won’t be able to keep up?”

  And then he felt it…the tug at the corners of his mouth. He clenched his teeth together to keep his lips from curving into a smile. “Men do not dance to work out.”

  Not with her, anyway.

  “Really? Tell that to the founder, who also happens to be one fine-as-hell Latino.” She sashayed over to Mac. “Show me how you can move those hips, handsome. I. Dare. You.”

  So, this was what she had in her bag of dares today.

  Refusing to let her bait him this time, he said, “Not going to work, Gayle. I’m privy to your game now. You’re not going to goad me into this one.”

  She gave a long sigh and shrugged. “Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted. Besides, it’s better not to be disappointed. A curmudgeon wouldn’t have the moves to keep up, anyway.”

  Lance howled with laughter, irking the piss out of Mac.

  “Curmudgeon. That’s. Perfect,” Lance said between gasps of air.

  “What’s a curmudgeon?” Skylar asked.

  “A grumpy old man.” Gayle’s pleased expression mocked Mac, causing his rebellious side to storm forward.

  “Uncle Mac isn’t an old man,” Skylar said.

  “Thank you.”

  “But he is grumpy,” she finished.

  Lance doubled over, laughing even harder.

  Fine. He’d show them. “I have the moves. Prepare to be awed.”

  And that’s when he realized the woman had won.

  Again.

  Mac most certainly did not have the moves.

  Gayle stifled a snort as he stumbled over his feet while trying to do a simple meringue. The man was the epitome of the saying “white men can’t dance.” He didn’t have a lick of rhythm in his amazing body. Every dance step, from the salsa to belly dancing, was stiff and cumbersome.

  She’d give him credit, though. For the last forty-five minutes, he hadn’t backed down from any of the hip-swinging moves. Nor did he seem embarrassed. Not even after the twenty or so women in attendance had gathered in groups and started ogling as soon as he walked in the door.

  Even in his awkwardness, Mac was eye candy delight for every woman in the room—including her. The sleeveless red workout shirt showed off his impressive tattoo and chiseled arms, hugged his broad chest and tight torso. Though he’d believed this was going to be a girly workout, sweat coated his skin—and increased his sex appeal. She would need a cold shower after all of this.

  Thankfully, the class was almost over. All that was left was the hip-hop routine and the cooldown. Since the instructor was notorious for picking songs she was in the mood for, instead of following a pre-made track list, there was no telling which track she would use. Gayle was hoping for a really fun one. As the current song wound down, the instructor paused her iPod to allow everyone a second to grab a sip of water.

  Mac ambled closer to Gayle. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This isn’t easy. My damn heart feels like it’s going to jackhammer out of my chest.” He patted his stomach. “And my abs are on fire. I will never speak ill of Zumba again. It’s a thorough workout.”

  “For your first time, you’re doing pretty well.”

  “Seriously?” Skepticism rang clear in his voice.

  “No.” She shook her head, laughing at his mock-hurt expression. “You look like a deranged animal.”

  A dimple dented his right cheek and her heart fluttered. How had she missed that yesterday? The dimple gave him a youthful appearance that showed a glimpse of the man he kept carefully hidden behind his tough exterior.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Yeah.” If possible his grin grew, making her knees weak. Good Lord, this man didn’t need to be a professional Latin dancer to make her want to melt to the floor. He just had to look at her with all his barriers down. The Mac she saw right this second was spellbinding.

  Their eyes connected, and the air between them thickened. Mac’s throat worked on a swallow, but he didn’t look away. A first. Gayle made sure she wasn’t the one to break the connection.

  The instructor did by starting the music. As the opening beat and an, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” of the best hip-hop Zumba routine ever filled the fitness room, Gayle couldn’t stop a little squeal of delight.

  “What?” Mac asked, a suspicious frown marring his face.

  “You’re in for a treat, handsome. Have you heard of The Wobble?”

  His eyes widened and his head jerked back. Well, yes, he had. She grabbed his hand, faced the front of the room, and started wobbling her hips. The abject horror on Mac’s face had her sputtering out a laugh as she let go of his hand to clap to the beat and move from side to side, kicking out a leg with each shift. “It’s not hard. Just shake your hips. No different than what we’ve been doing.”

  His gaze lowered to her gyrating booty, then jerked back up. “I completely disagree.”

  Oh, he liked what he saw and didn’t want her to know it. Okay. She’d let him get an eyeful without worry. “Just watch me.”

  She jumped in front of him just as the, “wobble, baby, wobble, baby, wobble, baby,” chorus started. She rotated her hips four times in a large circle, hopped back just inches from Mac’s body, and repeated the hip-wobble for another four count. He didn’t move a muscle. She shifted her body to the right, moving her shoulders just as vigorously as she moved her bottom, keeping the momentum as she shifted toward the left. She was pret
ty sure at this second Mac wouldn’t be able to decide between watching her breasts or her ass. She cha-cha’ed on her right foot and did a quick three step, cha-cha’ed on her left, then turned to face the left wall and did a pelvis thrust while pumping her fist at chest level for a very quick eight count. She chanced a glance at Mac.

  Eyes locked on her ass. So, handsome liked the booty.

  Might as well have fun with it.

  She repeated the series of steps facing the left wall. Anticipation shivered through her. What would he do when the class turned in unison to face the back of the room? How would he react when he realized she was standing directly in front of him? She was about to find out.

  She finished the second cha-cha, pivoted to the back of the room, inches from Mac—who didn’t seem to care he still hadn’t moved—and immediately went into the eight count pelvis thrust. The hop forward brought her so close to his thigh she might as well have been grinding on it through the four count gyration. As she jumped back for the next step, the abnormal redness of his face made her heart catch. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her body. So she squatted down just a little bit farther, gyrated her hips a little more provocatively. She pivoted to the left side of the room, and then he stunned the crap out of her.

  One moment he was frozen. The next he was beside her, revolving his hips and pumping his arms as hard as she was. A shocked laugh burst past her lips. The women around them hooted and clapped. When it was time to hop forward he didn’t hesitate, continuing the rotation of his hips. He hopped back in sync with everyone, shifting to the left, shifting to the right, making many of the other women in the class look novice in comparison. Had he been watching her…or watching the steps?

  Maybe she should feel slightly offended at the idea that he hadn’t actually been watching her, but she didn’t. Mac Hannon was dancing. Unlike before, when everything had been stiff and awkward, his body went with the hip-hop. He got down into the movements as his shoulders circled along with his pelvis. He got low into the lunge forward during the cha-cha. And then the pelvis thrust. Ohmygod. Gayle froze and covered her mouth with her hand. Now that was just sinful.