There’d be no driving out of this mess.
Fingers shaking, she turned off the engine and then just sat there, catching her breath, taking quick inventory of herself and her truck.
Her heart thumped hard enough to cause pain.
Her breath rushed, causing a sick echo in the quiet interior of the truck.
Other than being rattled, very rattled, she felt…uninjured.
Because the impact was all on the side of her truck and not the front, her airbags hadn’t opened. With a hand to her forehead, she closed her eyes in relief. Her seat belt had kept her secure. Somehow, she had survived intact.
Knowing she couldn’t just sit there, Stasia took a few deep breaths, then, hands shaking, she unhooked her seat belt. Crawling over to the passenger door, she got out to investigate her situation. It was so dark she could barely see outside the beam of the headlights, but it was clear that both front tires and one back tire were deep in a snow-filled ditch. It’d take roadside assistance to get her truck free.
Not that it mattered. Without brakes, she wasn’t driving anywhere.
Now what?
A gust of wind almost took her off her feet. She pulled her hat lower, covered her nose and mouth with her gloved hands, and looked down the hill, maybe a quarter of a mile away. A few people stared in her direction, but without streetlamps, Stasia doubted they could see her. More likely, they’d just heard the noise and wondered at it.
At least the truck was off the main road, so she wouldn’t cause any other wrecks.
Still trembling at the close call, she crawled back inside and turned off her headlights, but turned on her emergency blinkers. She grabbed the contents of her purse from where they had dumped onto the floor and shoved them back inside her purse.
She locked the truck, slung her purse strap securely around her neck, wrapped her arms around herself, and started trekking down the steep hill. Her feet sank so deeply into the crunchy snow that it fell into the tops of her boots and hindered her every step.
Stasia didn’t let herself think about the wreck, or why her brakes hadn’t worked, or the noises she’d heard long before leaving her cabin.
She concentrated on reaching Harley, and Lord help her, he had better be there. If he’d left already, she didn’t know what she would do.
KEEPING all his attention on his cards, Harley shrugged off the female hand on his shoulder. Oddly enough, he wasn’t in the mood for a woman, hadn’t been in the mood since that strange visit with Anastasia.
Somehow she’d bewitched him, thrown him off his game, at least his game with women. Poker was something altogether different. He’d stayed over to play cards to give the locals a chance to regain their losses, but he kept winning. He couldn’t leave with all their money. He had to stay for one more hand.
That was what he told himself anyway. He refused to acknowledge any other possibilities for his reluctance to get on the road.
The small hand touched his shoulder again, and again, he brushed it off. After the first woman had approached him, he’d been distant, almost rude to all interested females. He’d already slept with one of the ladies bothering him, and he wasn’t interested in a repeat performance. This was her third attempt of the night, and he was starting to feel surly about it. She’d been pushy to the point of annoyance.
Ignoring how closely she stood behind him, Harley placed his bet. Nothing happened. No one stirred.
Disgruntled, he glanced up at Ned, who sat across the table from him. Ned, as well as everyone else at the table, stared just beyond Harley.
And that prompted Harley to look, too. He glanced over his shoulder, and started in surprise.
Damn! So it wasn’t the blonde who’d been bugging him, but an altogether unexpected female visitor.
“Anastasia?” Pushing back his chair in a rush, Harley reached for her. With ice clinging to her eyelashes and her fair skin chafed bright red from the cold wind, she looked more miserable than any woman ever should. “What the hell happened? Are you all right?”
Teeth chattering, she whispered, “Yes.”
And then, to Harley’s surprise, she slammed up against him and stuck her nose against his throat.
It felt like an ice cube, and he jumped.
She held on to him like a lifeline, trembling uncontrollably. It was late, the storm had worsened, but here she was.
As he put his arms around Anastasia, three of the women he’d ignored glared at him, but to hell with it. He obviously had a few things to attend to other than a card game or a few bruised egos. “I’m out, guys.”
Ned crowed, “That means you lose!”
“Fine.”
“No.” Still shaking like an earthquake, Anastasia pushed back and sputtered, “Finish your hand, Harley. I’ll wait.”
Like hell! Her stoicism nearly made him hit the roof. For days he’d been thinking of her, wanting her, to the point that he’d turned down other women more suited to his special tastes.
Now Anastasia was here, frozen but in one piece.
It was clear that she’d come looking for him.
No way in hell was he waiting. “Take the pot, Ned.”
When Anastasia started to speak, Harley gave her a stern look and she went quiet again. After quickly collecting his personal belongings, Harley led her toward the bar.
“Coffee, Sheila. Lots of sugar and a little cream.”
Seeing Anastasia’s state, the owner, working tonight as a barmaid, brought the order in a hurry.
“Harley?”
“Yeah?”
“Like the pied piper, you have a following.”
He glanced back and saw that all three women had clustered up closer, and were now watching him with mixed expressions of annoyance, yearning, and jealousy. He shook his head. “Don’t worry about them.”
“If you say so.”
A million questions clamored in his mind, but Harley worked in order of priorities. He peeled off Anastasia’s coat and sodden hat, then her gloves. They were good quaility, sturdy, but not enough to fend off the weather tonight.
“You’re soaked. What the hell were you doing? Playing outside?” He hung everything on a wall peg without much hope of them drying anytime soon.
Anastasia ignored the question to wrap her fingers around the mug of hot coffee that Sheila offered. She didn’t sip it. Not yet. She just held it under her nose and absorbed the warmth, the steam.
“I’m waiting, Anastasia.”
Sighing shakily, she closed her eyes and took one small sip of the coffee. “Your uncle called.”
“Uncle Satch?”
Her eyes opened, and she sipped again. “You have other uncles?”
He would not start this game with her again. “What did Satch want?”
“For you to call him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Shaking so badly that she almost spilled the coffee, Anastasia said, “It’s important, but he said no one’s dead or dying.”
Harley marveled at her. So she hadn’t pried, but she had found out enough to keep him from panicking. “You walked here to tell me that?”
Steam from the coffee lifted around her face. “I’m not stupid.”
The hat had flattened her hair, her nose was cherry red, her cheeks wind-chapped. She looked frosty and uncomfortable and…adorable.
Harley narrowed his eyes. “So you didn’t walk?”
She shook her head. “Did you know that your cell phone isn’t working?”
“No reception.”
“Your uncle couldn’t reach you.”
Harley studied her. “You could have given the number of the bar.”
For a single heartbeat, Anastasia looked like a trapped doe. “I didn’t think of that.”
Or maybe she’d wanted an excuse to see him again. Insane as it seemed, that thought brightened his mood. “If you drove here, then it must’ve been with your windows down, and that doesn’t make any sense.”
She swallowed hard, shook
her head, and finally looked up at him with big dark eyes. “I don’t mean to be forward, Harley, but would it be too much to ask if I could burrow up and steal some body heat while you use the phone to call your uncle? I can explain everything after that, but I swear, I’ve never in my life been this cold.”
For inexplicable reasons, her request nearly made Harley hard. “Come on.”
Putting one arm around Anastasia, he led her through the crowd toward the back hallway near the bathrooms and the pay phone. Ignoring the hot stares of women and the knowing smiles of men, he used his free hand to unbutton his flannel shirt along the way.
When their positioning in the bar guaranteed a modicum of privacy, he took the coffee from Anastasia and sat it on the floor, then turned her to the wall, opened his shirt, and pulled her against his chest. He put his arms around her under her shirt and rested his chin on the top of her head.
As much as possible, he surrounded her.
With a soft moan, Anastasia crawled into him, as close as she could get.
His thick thermal shirt and her sweatshirt still separated them, but it didn’t matter. Feeling Anastasia curl in tight, her breath on his throat, her hands knotted near his abdomen, was more intimate than anything he’d experienced in years. Her back was silky smooth, but chilled, and trembles continued to course through her.
“Call your uncle, please,” she muttered against his skin.
He didn’t want anything to disturb the moment. “In a minute.” A gruffness sounded in his voice, but he hoped that Anastasia didn’t detect it.
“Harley,” she warned around her shivers. “I nearly froze to death just to relay that message to you. Now call him.”
Bossy. But cute. “Fine.” Digging change out of his pocket without dislodging Anastasia’s position against him, Harley reached out for the phone.
She turned her face so that her cheek rested flat against him.
He opened his other hand on her back, fingers spread wide to keep her pressed close.
Uncle Satch answered on the first ring. “Where the hell are you?”
Well used to his uncle’s surly manner, Harley replied in a calmer tone, “In town. Why?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
“So I heard. What’s up?”
“That woman with you?”
Rather than make assumptions, Harley asked, “Woman?”
“Anastasia Bradley.”
Harley’s fingers contracted on her smooth skin, then he began stroking up and down her spine. “Yeah. She’s right here.” As close as a fully clothed woman could be to a man.
“I like her.”
“You don’t know her, Uncle Satch.”
“I know more than you think.”
Harley let out an aggrieved sigh. “Did you call me just to talk about women?”
“We weren’t talking about women. We were talking about one woman.”
“Satch…”
“But that’s not why I called.”
“Then why?” His uncle wouldn’t hunt him down without reason. “What’s happening?”
Tension sizzled through the phone line. “Just about everything.”
“Meaning?”
“Magazine interviews, promo shots, a new sponsor, and get this—a friggin’ commercial.”
Harley went still. “You’re shitting me.”
Anastasia stirred against him, and Harley tightened his hold. He wanted to keep her right where she was—at least until she warmed up.
Uncle Satch said, “I told you I was getting the word out. Well, my boy, it’s out. The SBC has caught on to your background, all the shit that’s kept you out of the title fights—”
Alarm slammed into Harley. No. Hell no. He didn’t want his private life thrown out there for public consumption. “Wait a damn minute, Uncle Satch. You know how I feel about that. I don’t—”
“You’re a real human-interest story, my boy, the poster child for overcoming adversity. You represent the spirit of a true MMA fighter, a winner against all odds, private and public. And now the SBC is convinced you’re the next best thing to sliced bread.”
Through gritted teeth, Harley said, “I don’t want to be a poster child.”
“After all you did for Candace—”
On a surge of anger, Harley gripped the phone tighter, so tight that he felt capable of breaking it. “Listen to me, Uncle Satch. You will leave my mother out of this.”
“Your mother was my sister. I can speak of her whenever I want.”
Fuck. “Satch…”
“And that selfish twit, Sandy.”
Harley’s voice lowered to a furious growl. “Sandy is nothing to you, and I will not have her mentioned. Period. Ever.”
Anastasia pushed back to look at him, curiosity and sympathy in her eyes. Damn it, the invasion on his privacy was starting already, and Harley felt his careful control slip a notch.
No. He wouldn’t let that happen.
Uncle Satch was like a freakin’ freight train once he got started. He didn’t hear anything other than his own intentions.
But Harley would make him listen. “Uncle Satch—”
“What really got to the powers-that-be is this last time, with you getting taken out of the fight because you helped Sublime’s woman. If that isn’t newsworthy—”
“It’s not.”
“—then I don’t know what is. You’re a hero without even trying, and now that it’s getting out there, your upcoming fight is causing a huge stir. You and I know that you’re invincible, but because of outside forces, you’re being seen as the underdog.”
“I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.”
“Well, I do. And right now, everyone wants you to win.”
Not his opponent, Harley thought, whoever it might turn out to be. Trying a different tack, he asked, “Do I even know who I’m fighting yet? Is Sublime going to give me another shot?”
“Now, Harley, be patient. You’ll get the title shot. But given the turn of events, the SBC wants to build you up a little more, really capitalize on your growing popularity to bring in the crowds. Everyone’s suddenly interested in you, and we need to feed off that before we give them the big prize.”
Harley groaned. He didn’t want to feed anyone. He wanted the belt.
And he wanted it now.
“The websites are going nuts—you’re all the buzz in the chat rooms, and fan sites are popping up left and right. I’ve got an official site in the works, but in the meantime, the fans are doing a great job of showcasing your talents.” Satch finished all that by saying, “With so much going on, I need you back here.”
God. Harley could only pray that his uncle didn’t turn things into a circus. Rubbing his chin on the top of Anastasia’s head, he said, “I was heading out tonight anyway.”
“Good. We’ve got to tailor this thing around your training.”
“Thing?”
“The headlines, the wave of interest.”
Trying again, Harley said, “Listen to me, Uncle Satch. I was never out for the attention. You know that. I just want to fight and win.”
“Yeah, well, nobility doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Stow the sarcasm. We’re not hurting for cash and you know it.”
“Damn it, Harley, the truth is, you’re too damn good-looking. Couple that with an endearing background—”
“Endearing?”
“—and now the SBC wants you as the new face of the sport.”
Worse and worse. “What the hell happened with Sublime? I thought he was the damn face.”
“That’s just it. Sublime has drawn in this huge female audience. The demographics went from fifteen percent women to twenty-five. The organization wants to capitalize on that growth and according to them, you’re the next hottest guy fighting.”
Hottest? Harley frowned in distaste. “Let Sublime keep that rep. I don’t want it.”
“Look, forget Sublime. This is about you now.”
&nb
sp; Fresh alarm sent his adrenaline surging. Forget Sublime?
Like hell.
Harley liked Sublime well enough, but that had nothing to do with the sport, or with winning a belt. Sublime was the guy standing in his way to the title, period. “What’s going on, Uncle Satch?” His muscles clenched. “Is Sublime pulling out?”
“Now, Harley—”
“Answer me, damn it!”
“He’s beat two contenders in rapid succession.”
“Two?” Well hell, Harley thought. He’d missed one somewhere, when he never missed a single fight. Of course, he’d been so wrapped up in the rehab on his elbow, isolated from the rest of the fight world…
“Yeah, two. He fought O’Brian in your place, then four weeks after that, he knocked out Houston in the first round. He’s in high demand everywhere, from product endorsements to speaking engagements on every damn sport show or segment in the country. And Harley…the man loves his wife. What can I say? Simon Evans is not a man content to be without challenges.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Did Sublime no longer consider him a challenge? Did he just assume he’d win without accepting the possibility of a loss to his golden record?
Satch let out a long sigh. “He’s thinking of moving into a different arena. He’s been offered a real lucrative deal to announce fights instead of participate in them. He’s in negotiations right now. If things work out…he’s retiring again.”
Holding the phone away from his ear, Harley struggled to keep his disappointment in check. He needed to vent. A fight would do.
Or a good fuck.
He glanced down at Anastasia.
She shivered against him, small and tender and…in need of his warmth.
Shit. He didn’t just want sex. He could have that now, tomorrow, and the next day, no problem.
He wanted Anastasia.
One calming breath didn’t help, so Harley drew another. Then another.
When Anastasia tried to look up at him, he crushed her close, leaving her no choice but to relax against him.
Finally he brought the phone back to his ear. “So fighting Sublime is a long shot now?”
HardToHandle Page 5
