by Amity Cross
“That’s an argument for another day,” he said, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Right now, let’s get your sorry ass home.”
I frowned. “No press conference?”
“Not tonight. You got a pass because of the KO. Coach saw to it.”
“Don’t remind me,” I drawled, and I pushed to my feet. Linc handed me my shirt, and I dragged it over my head. “It won’t go down well if I’m not there.”
“It’s up to you, bro. You don’t have to face the little fucker if you don’t want to.”
“And have the entire world think I’m a piss-weak little turd? I’m going.” Grabbing a damp towel, I wiped the blood off my face. “How do I look?”
“Like a badass motherfucker,” Linc replied with a grin.
Checking my reflection one last time, I pushed out of the locker room and into the hall. O’Connell might’ve beaten me this time, but he’d eat his words before besting me again.
7
Josie
I wasn’t surprised when Dean showed up to the post-fight press conference the other night.
But what did open my eyes was the tactful way he’d described the fight. Whatever Gabe had been saying to get Dean to throw his focus in the octagon had since rolled right off his back and into the distance. Either that or the twin had developed a brutal poker face.
He hadn’t once looked at Gabe or rose to any of his quips at the desk. He just answered the questions fired at him by the assembled reporters with the utmost respect for the Championship and his opponent. If you asked me, Gabe didn’t deserve it, but from a PR standpoint, Dean was a perfect angel. A dream come true.
It was a show of power if I ever saw one. A fighter standing his ground in the face of defeat. Epic sportsmanship.
And I couldn’t help but feel he did it in lieu of apologizing. I wasn’t sure what I wanted more. For him to admit he was wrong about going to see Monica to my face or for him to act responsible and make my job a little easier for once. I guess beggars couldn’t be choosers. Not when my screwed-up heart was involved.
I still couldn’t get the image of Dean falling to the mat out of my mind. I’d seen Hamish take hits like that before, but that was at The Underground where there were no rules, and he’d toughened himself up enough to be able to get up and keep going. I’d never seen Dean dropped by another fighter because he hadn’t been KO’d before. In the AUFC, they stopped the fight if it got to that point, but Gabe’s punch had been brutal and on point.
It made me think about Hamish, and I wondered how he was getting on at The Underground after our break up. Realizing I hadn’t thought about him for at least two weeks, I began to feel guilty.
When things were good between us, they were brilliant, but when they were bad… Hamish was a really good guy, but there was nothing I could do about it now. What was done was done.
Scrolling through the top AUFC fan site—MMA Addiction—on my phone, I skimmed a blog post about Dean’s hit. They weren’t happy about it, calling it a cheap shot on O’Connell’s behalf. Total knockouts had been a rare occurrence in the all-Australian league, and they’d mostly happened by chance, but many were speculating it had been done deliberately. Gabe O’Connell had the reputation.
Besides, he’d given me the impression he was coming back for more when he’d tried to seduce me over to the dark side at the weigh-in. I knew the next fight he’d be looking for was against Lincoln for the middleweight title, and it’d put him in my orbit yet again.
“Josie?”
I blinked and turned to face Violet. She was standing beside me, holding up a black gown and waggling it in my face.
“Are you in there?” she asked. “Or have you left the building?”
“I’m here,” I replied, itching to look down at my phone again.
We were standing in the middle of one of the fanciest boutiques in Sydney, shopping for gowns to wear to the annual AUFC Charity Gala that was happening two weeks from now. It was a huge party the league put on every year to raise money for their partner charity, Tightrope—a foundation that prided itself on raising awareness of depression and mental illness in professional sports, but they also extended their reach to teens and younger kids. It was a big reason why the Twins were always donating their time to go out to local training days at gyms and dojos. The AUFC wasn’t kid-appropriate, but the Twins knew more than most why it was important to focus energy on fighting in a sporting arena rather than out on the streets. It was a big deal for some of the teens they went out to meet.
Reaching out, I ran my fingers over the fabric of the gown Violet was holding up. The store was bright and full of beautiful dresses I’d usually be pawing like a horny teenager, but my focus was split much like Dean’s had been. I lost to the guy who tried to take you from me. My heart wasn’t in it today.
“Put that away,” Vee said, snatching my phone from my hand. “Work can wait a few hours. You’ve been going nonstop since we met up. Life is up here.” She waved her hand around, gesturing to the store with my phone dangling like a carrot in front my nose. “It took me a long time to realize that, and now I’m in it, I’m not letting anyone else miss the good stuff. Especially not you.”
“But,” I complained, reaching for my phone.
She pulled her hand back. “No buts. I know it’s been a storm after the fight, but you can have a few hours away from it and nothing will have changed. Dean’s okay. He’s got Lincoln and Coach. People will say whatever they want. They always do, regardless of whether you’re there to see it or not. Right now, all you have to worry about is finding the perfect dress for the Gala. Which is an important cause to all of us, right?”
She was right, but it was the fear of missing out that drove my work addiction.
“When did you become so… Tyrannical?”
“The moment my brother pushed me out the door and forced me to attend a party,” she said mysteriously. “Doesn’t matter. What does is the fact I have your phone, so now I have all the control.”
“Fine,” I conceded, reaching out for the dress she thrust in my face.
“That would look good on you,” she said. “You’ve go the boobs to carry it off.”
Holding the hanger up, I took in the cut of the bodice and wondered if she was right. The neckline was plunging…right down to the navel, and the skirt was full with layers of silk that melted into a subtle train with thousands of tiny, clear diamanté embellishments. With my blonde hair and ivory skin, it’d make me look like an ice queen. I wasn’t sure I liked the metaphor, but I liked the dress.
“I’ll try it on, and we’ll see how much of my boobs fall out,” I said. “Have you found something?”
“Yep.” Vee held up a purple gown and smiled.
“Was there any doubt on the color?” I asked with a genuine smile.
“Never!”
A sales assistant helped set us up in a private change room, and we donned our chosen dresses. The Gala was a full black-tie affair that was being attended by a lot of big names with deep wallets. They expected class, decadent food, top-of-the-range wine, string quartets, and red carpets. That meant the dress I chose had to be something special.
As I zipped up the side closure, I found myself wondering if Dean would like it. He sure did look handsome all cleaned up and in a tux. After seeing him in next to nothing every day while he trained and fought, it was a total spin seeing him all done up in a penguin suit. I imagined trying to get him to dance again and smiled. This time, I’d make sure we wouldn’t be interrupted.
Pulling the curtain aside, I stepped out into the room and positioned myself in front of the mirror. I stared at my reflection and took in the lines of the gown I’d picked out. It fit my curves perfectly, the low neckline flowing down between my breasts accentuating my assets rather than flopping them out. It was a classy kind of revealing.
“You know,” Violet began, emerging from behind her curtain in her own dress. “We haven’t had any time together since the wedding.”
<
br /> I could already see where this was going, and I didn’t like it.
“You’ve been so buried in work lately I just wanted to make sure you’re dealing okay.”
“I am dealing,” I replied, smoothing down the fabric of the dress I wore. Flipping out the train, I admired the sparkle of the embellishments in the light.
“You broke up with Hamish in front of everyone,” she retorted. “You were so invested in trying to make it work with him and then boom.”
“It was never going to work,” I replied, turning my gaze back to my reflection. “We both knew it. It was past due.”
“Is there someone else?”
I glanced at her and frowned. How did she know? I began to run over scenarios in my mind, trying to place the moment I’d let my composure slip.
“Josie, you can tell me,” she said when I didn’t answer. “You’re one of my best friends. I’ve never had best friends before you and Ren. Whatever you say to me is between us. No judgment.”
How could I confess my crush on Dean to Violet when I couldn’t confess to Ren…or myself? I wasn’t a ‘from afar’ kind of woman. I took the bull by the horns and went for it, no matter the outcome, which was probably why this whole thing had me shaken off my axis.
What was stopping me now? I never stopped…
“I know I shouldn’t have let it play out like that,” I began. “I shouldn’t have dragged Hamish over the coals in front of everyone, but it had to end. We were both weighing one another down.”
“I know that,” Violet said. “But is there someone else?”
I began to panic a little, not wanting to get into it. The crush I had on Dean was my own private little thing. A fantasy that played out just for me. Saying it aloud made it real.
“Why are you asking that?”
“I heard what you said,” she murmured. “I don’t think anybody else caught it, but I sure did. Lincoln and I were dancing behind you.”
I hesitated, knowing exactly what she was getting at. The moment where I told Hamish there was someone else and the bit after where he accused it of being Dean. Clueless fucking Dean, who was still hung up over Monica Miller.
“Vee, please,” I said, not wanting to get into it. I wasn’t even sure how I felt. Was it just a crush or something more? And if I acknowledged it, I’d be forced to do something because it’d be out there. I wasn’t ready. Was I?
“Do you have feelings for—”
“I said don’t,” I interrupted her. “I’m under a lot of pressure right now. I’m just doing my best to get through it. I can’t entertain the idea of starting something new with someone so soon after Hamish. Not right now.”
I said the words, but I didn’t really feel them. Not really.
“If you say so,” Violet said, moving back into the change room. Sweeping the curtain across, she added, “You know you can always talk to me, and it’ll stay in the vault.”
“I know…”
Taking in my reflection once more, I couldn’t help it when the bad boy twin, who was the bane of my existence, came to mind. His awkwardness at the wedding when I’d forced him to dance with me was comical, but all I could think about was the feel of his hands on my waist. We’d known each other for a few years now, and in all that time, he’d never once touched me like that. I didn’t think he’d ever really touched me at all.
“Did Lincoln hear?” I asked, gaining the courage to say at least a little something now that no eyes were on me.
“No,” came Violet’s reply. “Just me.”
I sighed, feeling like an elephant had just sat on my chest. What the hell was I doing? Harboring secret crushes and fawning over a guy who was in his own world. Since we’d come back from the wedding, I wasn’t sure if Dean was afraid of losing me as a friend, potential lover, or as his Public Relations Manager. The moment he saw Gabe O’Connell trying it on—and again after the fight—I could’ve sworn there was a little flash of jealousy.
Was it all just professional, or was it something more? There were so many variables in play, and my head told me to steer clear, but my heart was another story entirely. Not to mention the things my body craved.
What was it about Dean Hayes that had gotten under my skin? I had absolutely no bloody idea.
Lincoln and Dean looked exactly alike, but they couldn’t be any more different. There were things that made Dean stand apart from his brother. Things that pulled my attention and made me take notice.
He was a bad boy with a dirty mouth, while his brother was well-spoken.
He was handsome in a rugged kind of way, whereas Lincoln was clean cut.
He was a formidable fighter with the body to match.
He was tattooed with something meaningful and had considered his choice carefully.
He cared about where he’d come from and helped kids like him onto a better path.
He was careful with his money and didn’t spend it on frivolous things.
He was dedicated completely to his chosen sport.
But fuck, sometimes he was the stupidest oaf I’d ever met in my entire life—infuriatingly, mind-blowingly, outrageously, explosively stupid.
And I wanted him.
Staring at my reflection, I decided to buy the dress and get myself a clue. It was time to figure out what Dean Hayes wanted because I’d just made up my mind.
Josie Cunningham was back in the game.
8
Dean
A week had passed since the fight, and I was still in a bad place.
The gym was empty when I arrived, but that was the point. I’d come a couple of hours early to get in some alone time before Lincoln and Coach arrived, to work through some of my pent-up stress. My head was fine physically—despite the cut over my eyebrow that was still healing—but internally, I was shot.
Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten from black to blue with a few stars still shining through. The sun rose over the ocean, so I could see the fire in the sky and the refection on the water. We were a stone’s throw from Bondi Beach and that made the place cost a mint. It was the only thing I’d shelled out that much cash for in my entire career. Linc and I had a fifty-fifty split in this place, and we owned it outright. Best investment ever.
Climbing up onto one of the treadmills, I tossed my hoodie and powered the machine up to a walk. Running seemed to be the only thing that had calmed my mind in the last week. Focusing on the burn of my muscles and the pounding of my feet on the track centered my destructive thoughts.
I was on my fourth kilometer when the electronic lock clicked and the outside door opened. I caught sight of Josie in the refection of the window and was a little surprised to see her.
She came in early three days a week to do her own workout—one of the perks of working with us was using our private gym—but today she was extra early, which was out of sorts for her. Watching her reflection, I ran my gaze over her body and frowned.
Sure, I’d noticed her before, I was a man after all, but now I really noticed her.
The little sports crop she wore barely held her breasts in place, and the leggings that hugged her ass didn’t leave much to the imagination. Each tight cheek was the perfect size to sit in my palm… I felt my cock begin to rouse, and I thumped my fist onto the controls of the treadmill, upping the speed.
There, that was better.
Josie didn’t say anything, she just climbed onto the treadmill beside mine and began at a slow walk. Damn, did she have to run beside me in that little top? Shit.
We ran side by side, and it took all my strength to keep focused on the lightening horizon and not her tits. When I got to ten clicks, I slowed to a jog, then to a walk before coming to a complete stop.
I watched Josie for a while, her body sleek and athletic as she ran. She had good form.
“You’re creeping me out,” she declared breathlessly.
“You’re early today,” I replied, reaching for my water bottle. Popping the lid up, I put it in my mouth and sucked, letting
the cool water wet the back of my throat.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, slowing her speed.
Smirking, I asked, “What did I do this time?”
She didn’t reply as she stepped off the end of the now stationary treadmill.
“You always do cardio,” I said, changing the subject. “You should do some weights.”
“Why?” she asked, turning to face me, her skin all dewy with sweat. “As long as I have stamina, I don’t need muscle.”
Stamina? Holy fuck, my cock liked that sound of that.
“Then at least let me teach you some basic kickboxing techniques,” I declared, tossing the water bottle and gesturing for her to stand on the mat.
“What’ll that do?” she asked, kicking off her trainers and bending over to peel off her socks.
Of course, it gave me an eyeful of her cleavage, and I raised an eyebrow. Nice.
“It’ll tighten your core muscles,” I said and instantly came alive at the double meaning in my words.
She smirked. “Really? Sounds like fun.”
“And you tell me off for being a dirty bastard,” I replied, grinning in return.
She shook her head. “So what do I do?”
“Raise your fists like this.” I raised my hands, curling my fingers into hard fists, the same fists that had knocked out full-grown men, and she mirrored my stance. “Now hold your core.” I reached out and pressed my palm against her stomach, and she instantly sucked in her gut. “Now raise your knee as high as you can across your body.”
I stood back and demonstrated, grinning at her expression of futility. “Your turn.”
“Right,” she declared, looking determined. “That doesn’t look hard at all.”
I smirked, knowing it’d burn right up her inner thigh, and stood back as she gave it a go. She wobbled on her left foot as she thrust her right knee into the air. She almost fell on her ass, and I burst out laughing.
“Shut up,” she snapped. “You make it look so easy.”
“Keep going,” I ordered. “Don’t forget to do the other leg.”
