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The Fighting Series (Books 1-5)

Page 67

by Nikki Ash


  The four of us have gotten together and are currently building a sports complex for latchkey kids. It’s still in the planning stages, but once it’s done, it will be a place for kids to go, where they can play all types of sports, instead of going home alone.

  “I said let me at him!” Bella yells again, one of the guys holding her back. I can’t help laughing. She’s so tiny yet so full of life. She is UFC obsessed and will definitely be a woman’s division champion one day.

  “Okay, but you need to go easy on Caleb. He’s still not at one hundred percent yet. I don’t even think he’s at ten percent,” I add under my breath, laughing. That comment earns me a punch to my arm.

  “Not Caleb! You!” Bella glares at me.

  “Me? What did I do to you?” I look at her in shock.

  “You called me little!” Her hands fist at her sides, and if possible, her glare gets meaner.

  “Oh, don’t let him get to you, sweetie.” Hayley comes walking over with Marco. “You know what they say… those who can’t do, teach.”

  Caleb throws his head back and laughs before grabbing Hayley and giving her a kiss.

  “Ha ha, funny, Hayley. At the rate your husband is going, he’ll have to resort to teaching the kids’ classes for the rest of his life.” That earns me another punch to my arm.

  “I’m sorry, Bella. I didn’t mean anything by it.” The guy holding her back, let’s go of her.

  She glares at me for a few more seconds, letting me sweat it out. She’s been hanging out with these women for too damn long.

  “I guess I accept your apology. Marco, want to go spar?”

  “Sure.” They both head over to the kid’s area of the gym.

  “How was your doctor’s appointment?” Caleb asks Hayley, rubbing the bump on her belly.

  I know it sounds bad, but I tend to tune that shit out. While I’m happy for all my friends, it’s hard watching each of them get married and go through all that family shit.

  My phone goes off and I walk over to check it.

  Ashley: I can’t hang out tonight. Gotta work.

  Me: Again? I thought you were only working two nights a week…

  Ashley: I took on more shifts. Don’t worry about me.

  I shake my head in frustration. Ashley Myers just might be the death of me. I met her a couple years ago through our friends. She’s good friends with Kayla, Liz, and Hayley, and has a son, Tristan, who is the same age as Bella. We became fast friends and our friendship has grown over time. She is without a doubt my best friend. She is also the most strong-willed, independent woman I’ve ever met. It’s funny because the characteristics I love most about her are the same ones that frustrate the fuck out of me on a daily basis.

  I decide not to text her back and instead go to her house. She tends to argue less when she doesn’t have a cell phone to hide behind.

  “I’m out of here,” I say, packing up my shit.

  “See ya, man.” Caleb gives me a fist bump and Hayley waves.

  I get into my black on black four-door sexy-as-fuck Aston Martin Rapide S. She was given to me for my thirty-fifth birthday last month, courtesy of my parents. Yes, that’s right, I’m one of those trust fund rich kids, only I’m without the trust fund. My parents firmly believe I should earn my own way in this world and I’m happy to say I’m doing a good job at it. The only money they’ve ever given me was a million dollars for my twenty-first birthday. Any other money I get, will be in my parents’ and grandparents’ will. As a trainer for the UFC full time, I make a very comfortable living, so I took that money and put it into a couple investment accounts and haven’t touched any of it. Upon moving to Las Vegas, I purchased a decent sized four bedroom, three and a half bath, two-story home on the outskirts of Las Vegas on a nice piece of property. Many epic parties have been held there around the bonfire in my backyard.

  My parents’ gift is more of a bribe. Since I have moved to Vegas, I’ve only been back to visit them once and they want me to come home soon. They’re hoping by buying me the car of my dreams, it’ll guilt me into coming home for a visit. They know why I don’t want to go home, but they feel enough time has passed. It’s been almost eleven years since my wife left me, taking our son with her, and while I’ve moved on, the truth is even after all this time, it still hurts like hell to go home. Memories of our life together are in every nook and crevice of that town. After they left me, I lasted about four years living in that town, but the minute Cooper asked if I wanted to move, I jumped at the chance to get the fuck out of there and start a fresh life.

  The guys know I was once married and that when they met me I was no longer married, but I’ve chosen to keep the details to myself. I don’t want or need anybody’s pity. I’ve spent the last several years having one-night stands to try to fill a void that can’t be filled. Well, that is up until six months ago. It’s not that I can’t go out and find a woman to get into bed—I just haven’t felt like it. Call it a dry spell if you wish, I’m just not feeling it.

  “Incoming call from Mom,” comes across my Bluetooth. I want to press ignore on the touchscreen but know better. Sandra Scott is not a person who does well with being ignored.

  “Hello, Mom.”

  “Hello, Kaden. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Just heading to Ashley’s to hang out.”

  “Oh, Ashley. I would really love to see her and her son again.”

  “She’s just a friend, Mom.”

  “I know that, Kaden. I know that because she would never behave like all those women you have non-committal sexual relations with. I could tell that about her from the one time I met her when we visited.”

  I can’t help but groan at my mom’s comment about Ashley. It reminds that she was the last person that I… Nope! I’m not going to think about that night. It will do no good to think about the night Ashley and I almost… Fuck! I’m not thinking about that shit! She’s my friend. My best damn friend.

  “Mom, I’m almost to Ashley’s house. Is there some other reason you called?”

  “Can’t a mother call her son to say hello?”

  Most moms, probably—my mom, no way.

  “Absolutely. Hello. Love you. Gotta go.”

  “Wait! Kaden… your grandfather would like to talk to you about something. He has a proposition for you.”

  And there’s the reason for her call…

  “Okay, well can we talk later?”

  “Hello, Kaden. It’s Grandfather. How are you, son?”

  She seriously put him on the phone?

  “I’m good, Grandfather. How are you?”

  “Not good. Your grandmother’s eightieth birthday is coming up and she wants you here for her party.”

  Of course, she does. They have used every possible excuse to get me to come back to Colorado over the years. This excuse shouldn’t surprise me.

  “Look, Grandfather…”

  “And she wants you to come back with a fiancée…”

  Has he lost his damn mind? I can’t help the laugh that escapes. Is he going senile?

  “Are you out of your…”

  “And once you’re married we will relinquish your inheritance early and double it.”

  The shock of his words almost causes me to run off the road. Luckily, I’m about to pull into Ashley’s driveway. I gather myself together, pull in, and put my baby in park.

  “Double it?”

  “Yes, if you come to Colorado, engaged, for your grandmother’s birthday and get married before the year is over we will sign over your inheritance early and double it. You will receive ten million dollars as a wedding gift.”

  I always knew I was going to inherit a large amount of money once my grandparents passed away, but I had no idea it was that much and for them to double it? What’s their end game?

  “Why is my getting married so important to you guys? I was already married once. You bought us a house.”

  “Your grandmother wants to see you happy. She wants to see you married and sett
led down. You are thirty-five years old, Kaden. You’re the only grandchild and you’re off getting your dick wet instead of settling down and giving us a great-grandchild.”

  I did give you one, is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say the words. I know he isn’t trying to be insensitive. My parents and grandparents love me, and it breaks their hearts that I went from being married and having a baby to single and fucking every available woman with no chance of ever committing to a single one of them. While my family can be a bit stuffy at times, they really are good people, and surprisingly not at all stuck up even though they are worth millions.

  “How do you know I won’t just find a woman to marry and divorce her the minute I get my hands on the money?”

  Grandfather breathes a heavy sigh into the phone. “Because I know you would never marry a woman unless you loved her. I saw you with Gabrielle all those years ago and you wouldn’t say those vows again unless it was for real. And I also know you would never do that to your mother and grandmother.”

  Fuck! He’s right. There’s no way I could stand in front of my family and God and vow to love and cherish a woman, until death do us part, unless I meant every word I was saying. The problem is when I made those vows to Gabby, they were supposed to be the only time I would ever make them. She was supposed to be my one and only, my one true love.

  “Grandfather, I appreciate your offer, but unless a woman I can magically fall in love with, falls out of the sky and right into my lap, I don’t think it will be possible.”

  And just as I’m saying these words, out walks Ashley, looking hot as hell, staring daggers my way as she walks past my car to her mailbox to check the mail. Long, straight, caramel-colored hair that flows down her back with matching hazel eyes. On a good day, they’re mixed with green, but on a bad day they’re mixed with gold, which is how they look now. Her hair and eyes are what you notice first, but it doesn’t end there. Because as you run your gaze over her body, you notice her perfect-sized tits that I can attest to, fit quite perfectly into the palms of my hands, only spilling out a little. Then when you go a bit farther, you see the soft but flat stomach and amazingly toned tanned legs, which seem to go on for miles from the years of exercising and pole dancing classes she has taken at the girly gym she goes to. She almost didn’t renew her membership this year, so I renewed it for her as a Christmas present. She’s wearing her cocktail waitress uniform, which consists of a tight, low-cut black tank top that reads Double D’s across the front in bright orange lettering—the name of the sleazy strip club she waitresses at—and tiny black booty shorts. And to finish off the outfit, she struts back up the driveway in black heels that have got to be a good five inches tall, showing off her toned calf muscles.

  Since my windows are tinted, when she gets near my car, I roll down the window so she can see me wink at her, and when I do, she flips me the bird. I laugh as I watch her ass sway back into the house, and then remember I’m still on the phone with my grandfather.

  “Kaden, are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.”

  “Your grandmother wants you married and I will do whatever it takes to make sure it’s done. She’s not getting any younger and her one wish is to see you settle down and give her some great grandkids. What will it take, fifteen million?”

  Holy shit! He’s dead serious about this. You would think my grandmother was on her deathbed…

  “Hold up, is Grandmother sick? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  He doesn’t reply for a second, and when he does, he says, “Please just think about it. It would make her happy, Kaden.”

  It doesn’t go over my head he didn’t answer my question.

  “Okay, I’ll think about it. Regardless, I will be there for her birthday this year.”

  I might not be able to give her a great granddaughter-in-law or great grandkids, but I can at least go back for a visit for her eightieth birthday. What if she’s sick and I don’t go? That wouldn’t be good at all. I live with enough regrets—I don’t need to add any more.

  “Thank you, Kaden.”

  And with that, he hangs up.

  I turn my car off and head up to Ashley’s front door. It’s a small two-bedroom house in a rougher neighborhood. Not as bad as some parts of Las Vegas, but it’s not the kind of neighborhood you let your kids play outside by themselves in. She said she bought it when she was pregnant with Tristan when she was fresh out of college. I don’t hear much about her deadbeat ex-boyfriend also known as Tristan’s sperm donor, but I do know he left her in pretty bad shape financially, hence the reason why she works part-time as a cocktail waitress. I’ve begged her to let me help her out, but she refuses. Stubborn ass woman.

  “Honey, I’m home!” I yell out as I walk into the house without knocking in search of Ashley. She doesn’t respond and the only thing I hear is music blaring from somewhere in the house. I head through the living room, following the sound of the music, and then into the kitchen, where I find her.

  When I get there, the sight in front of me almost knocks me on my ass. Ashley is stirring what looks like spaghetti in a pot, and while doing that, she’s shaking her ass to the song Closer by the Chainsmokers. She has a wooden spoon in one hand, which she’s using as a microphone, while her other hand holds onto the oven door handle. Then she drops her body halfway to the floor, her ass sticking out and then slowly moves her body back up like the goddamned stove is an actual person. Is it weird that I wish I was a fucking stove right now? I’m instantly hard and have to adjust my pants before I make a fool out of myself. I clear my throat and she turns around still singing the song.

  She’s now allowed my body to take the place of the stove as she approaches me, almost too close for comfort, and then drops to the floor like she did a minute ago, only to come back up slowly. If I was hard a minute ago, my dick is now rock fucking solid. I step back a foot and clap at her performance.

  “Nice. Good to know those pole dancing lessons are being used, even if it’s in the kitchen cooking pasta.”

  “Hey now, you never know… Maybe I’m just working on building up my confidence before I take my moves to a real club.” She takes the boiling pot over to the sink and pours the pasta into the strainer.

  “Aren’t you just full of jokes,” I say dryly while searching for some food to taste. Ashley can cook something fierce.

  “You still mad at me?” I ask, looking across the counter to find something to munch on. Fresh rolls out of the oven. Score! I pop one in my mouth.

  “You know I hate it when you question my work schedule.” She grabs the basket of rolls and moves them to the other side of the counter thinking it’ll stop me from grabbing more.

  “I get it. I’m sorry. I just hate that you work so much when it isn’t necessary.” I move to the stove to see what’s cooking over there.

  “It’s very necessary. Anyway, I told you I have to work tonight. What are you doing here?” she asks, pouring the pasta back into the big pot and then looking down at her phone.

  “Well, I’m here anyway. Need any help?” I lift the lid to the smaller pot, which is holding her delicious meatballs. I grab a fork, but before I can snag one, she snatches the fork from my hand.

  “Oh, good! You want to help? You can fold the laundry in the dryer while I try to find a sitter for Tristan.” I know she’s only kidding about the laundry, but I go to the dryer and grab the clothes to fold them. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t help her out?

  After grabbing the clothes, throwing them onto the couch, and turning the NBA finals on, I yell back to her in the kitchen, “Britni canceled again? I can watch Tristan.” I grab a couple articles of clothing to fold and see a bright pink thong. Fuck! I throw that shit to the side. I’ll figure out how to fold those later.

  Ashley comes out of the kitchen frowning down at her phone and then looks up at me folding the clothes and smiles. I love that smile. I would do anything to keep it on her face. There isn’t anyone I
’ve ever known besides Gabrielle whose smile can light up an entire room.

  “Are you sure? I put a text into Hayley and Liz. I don’t want to take you away from any plans you might have.”

  “Tristan!” I call out. It’s a small house, so it doesn’t take much for someone to hear you. I hear him running down the short hallway, and a few seconds later, he throws himself on the couch next to me.

  “Want to chill with me tonight while your mom goes to work?”

  “Yeah!”

  “There you go. We’re good to go. You staying to eat first or do you need to run?”

  “I really need to run. I’m hoping to meet with Don to beg for some extra days.” She’s now running around the house grabbing her purse and coat and keys. She really is the most unorganized woman. Most of the time it’s the guys who leave shit everywhere, not the women, but Ashley is the exception. She is forever misplacing her debit card and keys. One time she found them in the washing machine!

  She gives Tristan a kiss goodbye, first. Then leans over to give me a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you, Kaden.”

  Before she can walk away, I grab her wrist, bringing her to a halt. “I can give you some money… even a loan if it makes you feel better. Then you wouldn’t need to work at night and you can just focus on Tristan and teaching.”

  She lets out a heavy sigh, giving me her signature glare while her hand goes to her hip. “We have already had this conversation. I don’t want or need your money. Can we please not have this argument again?”

  I know there isn’t any use in continuing. She’s right, we have had this argument, and it always ends the same way, with her telling me no. She is determined to make it on her own. And she is. She has been living on her own, taking care of Tristan and teaching full time as a kindergarten teacher since I met her. She’s also been working at Double D’s since I met her. It was two days a week for extra money, she said. But recently something has changed. I’ve seen past due bills on the counter when she’s forgotten to put them away and she’s been trying to work additional days. She’s been doing this same routine for years and now suddenly, she isn’t making ends meet? Something isn’t right. Unfortunately, until Ashley is ready to talk to me there’s no getting any information out of her. She’s too damned stubborn for her own good.

 

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