Inhibitions

by Mattie Bowman

  “Grant wants to see you.”

  I straightened. “Why?”

  Anderson turned around and pointed to the back corner of the wall behind him. A small black orb rested near the ceiling. “He can see you.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Anything else?”

  He reached across and squeezed my hand. “I’m here if you want to talk before you go. I don’t know what happened, but I’m shocked as hell anything could split you and Owen up. The way he looked at you…”

  I tugged my hand backward, unable to take the comfort he offered. “You’re a great friend,” I said. “I mean it. You make it to Cali, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “Or take all my money?” He gave me a soft smile.

  “That too.” I tapped the counter. “Thank you. For everything,” I said and turned on my heels, heading straight to Grant’s office. No use in delaying the inevitable, I just hoped he’d go easy on me when he realized Owen and I had epically failed as a couple.

  His office door swung open before I’d even had a chance to knock and he ushered me inside in a hurry. I sank onto his couch, him right behind me, sitting so close his leather pant clad leg touched mine. The ice-blue eyes—that could read too much into a person’s soul—bored into mine so much that I looked away. I didn’t want him to see what I’d done, how messed up I’d let things get.

  When minutes of tense silence had passed, and he still hadn’t stopped staring at me, I gave up. “I’m sorry, Grant—” he held up his hand to stop me.

  “Those aren’t the words I want to hear.”

  I shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

  Reaching behind him, he slipped his long black hair into a man-bun. He was gorgeous; there was no denying that, in a rock star sort of way, but it was his ability to peel every layer back and see right down to your inner most desires that was intimidating as hell. Plus, even being able to appreciate his beauty, his allure, he was no Owen. Which I hadn’t realized it until now but he’d forever be my comparison, and nothing would ever surpass him. And I didn’t want it to. I wanted to erase my mistakes and go back to those few blissful moments when he’d truly been mine.

  “That,” Grant said, snapping and pointing a finger at me. “I want to know where you were at just then.”

  “Don’t you have a guess? I’m sure with the look of me you could do it with your eyes closed.”

  “Ah,” he said and leaned back against the couch. “You’re stumping me, Presley. I didn’t see it coming.” I scrunched my eyebrows together as I watched his frantic thought process. He moved his hands in dramatic circles as if he was trying to piece together some elaborate puzzle. “Not the bit about the engagement being fake, I saw that from the start.”

  I gasped, my hands flying over my mouth.

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You realize what I do for a living, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not offended. There was love there. The real stuff, not the fake crap I see waltz through here all the time.”

  Tears bit the backs of my eyes. Seriously? How do I have any left?

  “Talk.” Grant wrapped both his hands around mine. “Now.”

  I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to spill my guts in his office, but he had known both of us for the duration of our stay—figuring us out, our fantasies, our interests—all in the name of giving us a solid foundation to start a life together. How could I not tell him what had happened?

  He was an extremely good listener, taking in the details I relayed with intent concentration expect for the occasional roll of his eyes or shake of his head. Finally, after I’d brought him completely up to speed, he sat there, slowly nodding.

  “David is a right prick,” he said, and I laughed for the first time since Owen left.

  “He really is.” I couldn’t argue with him.

  “Are you upset that Owen lied to him that night, or are you angry with him keeping it from you?”

  The throbbing ache behind my eyes intensified. “It was more a collection of everything hitting me at once yesterday.”

  “Understandable.”

  “And,” I said when he didn’t continue. “I cracked. That, plus not wanting Owen to miss his fight, well, it was the right thing to do.”

  Grant pressed his fingers to his lips, contemplative. “Are you sorry the way things ended up? Before David arrived, I mean.”

  The image of Owen’s strong, bare arms wrapped around my waist popped into my head. The way he took such care with kissing my skin in some moments and others he greedily lapped at me like a wild animal. How we could carry on an entire conversation without ever opening our mouths.

  My hair fell around my face as I studied my hands. “No. I’m grateful I didn’t end up married to David, despite the hurt it took to get me there. I suppose, I should be thanking Owen rather than blaming him.”

  Grant clapped his hands together. “You’re within your right to be upset, hell, even hurt over how it all turned out but don’t ignore the happiness that could be yours if you only chose it.”

  I looked up at him, locking onto those ice-blue eyes. “I can’t.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  Bolting from the couch, I paced the length of his office. “Look what I did to him in just a matter of days!” I was full on shouting now still not having a lock on my spinning emotions. “I practically tortured him before really giving it to him with the whole David incident. Fuck,” I said, “I practically ruined every fantasy you threw at us! It’s clear he’d be much better off without me.”

  “Wake up, Presley!” Grant stopped me mid-pace, his hands on my shoulders. “Any man who would let a little thing like a slip of a chair, or a little puke in a Gondola wouldn’t be worth your time, and he most certainly wouldn’t hang around for the rest of it. Not unless he was madly in love with you. Which Owen is.”

  A flush raked across my skin with his declaration of my most intimate mistakes out loud. I knew he knew all of it, of course, Anderson and Jessica would’ve filled him in, but still, it was a little jarring. I shrugged and smacked my hands on my thighs. “How do I untangle this? I forced him to leave last night. He thought I had actually cheated on him with David!”

  “Like I said.” He squeezed my shoulders. “He’s crazy, madly, deeply in love with you. It makes us do insane things, see situations we never thought possible—even the bad ones.” Tilting my chin up to look him in the eye, he arched an eyebrow at me. “Do you feel the same way?”

  My heart screamed out of course before it computed in my brain. “I’ve loved him for longer than I even knew.”

  A slow smile spread across Grant’s face. “Then you can fix it.”

  “How? What do I do?”

  “Anything. Everything.” He stepped backward; his arms held out. “Do you know what I’d do to feel even an ounce of the passion you two have for each other?” He let his hands drop, his eyes trailing to the floor.

  I stood there, still, silent, surveying him as his mind drifted. I hadn’t given an ounce of thought to Grant’s love life except to assume he had a gaggle of ladies answering his every whim. He was a retired rock star that became the rock star of love gurus—how could he not have someone fanning the flames of his soul every night?

  “Why are you still standing there?” He asked me, finally returning his gaze to mine.

  Adrenaline shot through my veins at the thought of tracking Owen down and baring my soul to him, but cold fear clung to the broken pieces of my heart. “What if he doesn’t think I’m worth the hassle I’ve put him through? What if he just wants to go back to being…friends.” The word tasted bad in my mouth like it never had before. Owen had been the best friend I’d ever had in my life, but now that I knew what it felt like for him to be mine, I couldn’t go back. Having him in my life as anything less than mine would be an empty, painful tease.

  “There’s only one way to find out. Wouldn’t you rather know, than spend your life wondering if you
’d made a mistake?” Grant tilted his head. “Now, go!”

  “The fight, I won’t be able to get in…”

  “I’m sure you can find a way.”

  An insane grin shaped my lips as I hugged him. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He kissed my cheek before shoving me away. “I expect an update!” He called as I turned out the door, breaking into a run.

  Anderson had my bags loaded into an SUV ready to take me to the airport. “I’ll get the Jeep you rented back as well,” he said holding the door open for me.

  “How did you—” I shook my head, hugged him, and then dove into the backseat. “We’ll talk soon!”

  He shut the door behind me and waved as we drove off. I chewed on my bottom lip, mentally calculating the hours it would take before I could reach Owen. The logical side of my brain reminded me I didn’t have to rush, that I could just as easily tell him I was sorry tomorrow, but the racing in my heart wouldn’t stand for that. I had to tell him tonight before we wasted one more second of our lives not indulging in a happiness only the other could supply.

  Now I just had to make it in time and charm my way into the biggest fight of the year.

  18 Owen

  “You look like shit, man,” Craig said from where he sat across from me on the bench in the arena’s locker room. “You sure you’re up for this?”

  The urge to bare my teeth like a pissed off wolf rushed over me. “According to you, I didn’t have a fucking choice.” I deepened the triceps stretch I currently held, trying like hell to loosen my muscles. I should’ve asked Grant some tips…

  Just thinking about the resort, about Presley, hit me harder than I knew the prized fighter would do in just a little over two hours.

  “He speaks!” Craig shouted, throwing his arms in the air. “It only took six hours.”

  “There’s nothing to say,” I said, transitioning into another set of stretches. People had already started a line outside the arena when Craig had ushered me here an hour ago. Electricity buzzed through the crowd as I walked past them, some even shouting their support of me. The second I’d told Craig I was in, he’d gotten it all over social media, so the news spread like wildfire.

  “Bullshit,” he said, drawing me back to the present. “What the hell happened out there?”

  “Nothing—”

  “Don’t.” He punched my shoulder, and I growled at him. “Don’t do that. Something is eating at your ass, and I won’t let whatever it is make you lose this fight. You can’t take that shit out to the ring! You could get killed if you’re not sharp.” He punched me on the opposite shoulder, not hard enough to sting, just to drive home his point.

  I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair. He was right. I’d never let anything cloud my mind before a fight—not that anything like this had ever happened—but I couldn’t take the risk. And I absolutely couldn’t get Presley—and the way she’d begged me to leave—out of my mind. My chest tightened, thinking about her, wondering if she was still at the resort. If she’d decided to stay for the remainder of our trip, choosing to hang out with Anderson or Grant or even Tara. Had they forced David to leave? Or was he still there, prowling the grounds for her?

  “Dude,” Craig said, clutching my arm. “You’re shaking.”

  I ripped my head up, only now realizing my fists were clenched so hard my entire body shook.

  “I fucked up,” I said, the air leaving my lungs in one pathetic huff. Craig motioned me to continue, so I recounted the events at Inhibitions, only leaving out the more intimate details that belonged to me and Presley alone. By the time I’d finished, I was pacing in front of the row of lockers. “I’m such an idiot,” I said. Recanting the story had only made me realize with perfect clarity that I was in the wrong place. “I have to go get her!”

  “Fuck my life, Grady!” He slammed his hand against a locker.

  “Fuck your life? Are you serious?”

  “Yeah!” He shook his head. “Presley. The Presley?”

  “Nothing less would pull me off this fight.”

  He rolled his eyes and rubbed his palms against his face. “I know, damn it. I can’t believe you left her there. With the possibility that asshole could still be there too? And for what? Because of a few misconceptions? Give me a break. Go on. Go. Get her before she realizes what an ass you are and takes the next best opportunity that comes her way.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Pictures of Anderson or even Grant popped into my mind, but I forced them away. “She wouldn’t…”

  “She might when she realizes you didn’t fight for her. That you simply let her ask you to leave in the heat of the moment and bolted.” He shoved me toward the exit. “I hope you’re not too late.”

  My mind raced, overwhelmed with the possibilities he’d painted in my head. “Are you sure. What are you going to tell people about the fight?”

  He already had his cell pressed to his ear. “Fuck my life, remember?” He clenched his eyes shut. “Jordan? I need a word.” He tucked the phone against this chest and tossed me his car keys. “Fucking go, dude. I’ll handle this shit storm, but you owe me. When you marry her, I get dibs on her maid of honor!”

  I spared him a moment of pure sympathy as he delivered the news to my agent and then booked it out the door, barreling past the paparazzi lining the parking lot and to Craig’s car. I had nothing with me but my wallet, and the gym shorts and shirt I wore, but I didn’t care. He was right; I was a fucking idiot.

  I loved Presley. Loved the way she laughed, the way she could bring me to my knees with one look, the way she almost purred as I stroked her skin with my tongue. How had I left her there?

  Pressing harder on the gas, I zoomed through the traffic on the highway, speeding toward the airport without even a second thought to the fight I was blowing off. My single, solid hope was that Presley was still there and that I wouldn’t be too late.

  19 Presley

  An ache wrenched in my back from the stiff airplane seats, from the hours I’d spent on the flight, and I was pretty sure my hair had soaked in all that dreadful airplane scent, but I’d finally landed. I grabbed my bags in a hurry, rushing through the airport like I had to catch a connection. The fight would start in an hour and a half, and I didn’t know if that would be enough time for me to make it there and sweet talk my way inside.

  The image of Owen manifested perfectly in my mind—he’d be in his warm-up gear, the tight white T-shirt that drove me insane, and he’d most likely be stretching in the locker room while he listened to Thirty Seconds to Mars. I spared half a thought to wonder if he was thinking about me, but then instantly hoped he wasn’t. He didn’t need my emotional drama distracting him in the ring, especially against a fighter like Rollins.

  “Excuse me!” I yelled frantically as I weaved between people on my way to the nearest taxi stand. The door was finally in sight, and I almost squealed in delight at the time I’d made. My pre-celebratory fist bump to the air must have pissed the gravity gods off, because I tripped over my own feet and crashed to the floor, my bags slipping a foot away from me.

  The loud thwack my skin made against the cold tiled floor was louder than the announcer over the intercom relaying the level of security we were currently in. My own personal level of embarrassment? Code red coupled with a burgundy shade of frustration. I so didn’t have time to deal with this shit right now!

  I crawled over to my bags as people stepped over them and me as if I was nothing more than a piece of airport roadkill. Guess I was in a way. I certainly looked the part. Just as I got to my knees, a hand came into my eyesight, and I gladly took it to get off the floor that was covered in god knows what.

  “Thank y—” The words died in my throat. “Owen?” My voice was an octave that only dogs should be able to hear.

  “Presley?” He asked in that shocked growl he used whenever he was surprised.

  “What are you doing here?” We both asked at the same time.

  “I came
for you.” We both answered at the same time.

  My cheeks flushed, and I started laughing even knowing I shouldn’t. We had too much serious to deal with to have time to laugh.

  He chuckled and eyed my bags, shaking his head as he straightened and gathered them. “The air trip you again?”

  “You know me,” I said, unable to process that he was really here and not at the fight. “Oh my God, Owen!”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I had intended to get that out of you later, but you always are an overachiever, aren’t you?”

  I smacked his chest. “The fight!” Clicking my cell, I noted the time. “We only have an hour to get there.”

  “I’m not fighting.” He cupped my cheek. “I came here to get on a plane and come to you.”

  Warmth flooded my previously cold and tight chest. “You…you’d blow off something as big as Rollins for me?”

  “Hey,” he chided. “Don’t talk about how big Rollins is, okay? You’ll give me a complex.”

  Like that was even possible with Owen’s glorious body. “Stop!” I grabbed at the handles of my bags. “Help me with these. We have zero time to talk about this.”

  “That’s just it, Presley,” he said, unmoving. “We have to talk. I can’t go another second without righting everything I did wrong with you.”

  I stopped struggling against him, my eyes locking with his. I reached up to touch his face, love flooding every inch of my body at his declaration…right before I lightly smacked his face. “Rollins versus Grady. Now!” I moved passed him, hoping to hell he’d follow.

  “Presley!” He called as I tried to hail a cab.

  “No, we’re going! We can talk on the way over. I’m not letting you miss this fight.” I pulled out my cell, dialing Craig’s number.

  “I have a car.” Owen waved the keys in front of my face.

  “Move!” I urged him to lead the way.

  “Presley?” Craig’s voice was two tight-ropes of strained.