And then there was his smell.
Those two senses didn’t come close to the one that basically reduced her to Jell-O. Those didn’t even take into account how he looked. Which, if he were on display in a museum, the placard would need to read Perfect Male Specimen. Because that’s exactly what he was.
And that was only while he was standing still. When he moved, she was surprised that women’s panties didn’t drop to the ground. He was like a sexy, capable, half ninja, half warrior. He possessed agility, grace, and strength, and he was so alpha, so dominant, so hot, that shivers raced down her spine from thinking about it, which wasn’t helping her make her shot.
If he came within two feet of her, all of those qualities made her entire body vibrate like she was sitting on a massage chair at the nail salon.
Taking a deep breath, she made her shot. The crack of the cue ball hitting the eight ball rang out just before the black ball dropped into the pocket she’d called.
Thank God.
Being in Lucky’s presence tonight had been a torture so sweet that she was going to get a cavity. Looking down, she was careful not to make eye contact with the man, who was swiftly and effectively unraveling her sanity like a cat playing with a roll of toilet paper, as she rushed to put her stick away and get the heck out of there. Her brilliant no-eye-contact-and-get-out-of-dodge plan would’ve worked if Lucky hadn’t decided to replace his cue stick on the wall mount at the same time.
The result: a triple déjà vu moment. Deanna walked straight into Lucky’s chest.
She froze. Her outer body responded in total opposition to her inner body, which warmed like she’d just taken a shot of piping-hot coffee. Starting deep in her core, tingles exploded within her.
Leave. Just move your feet in the opposite direction and go.
Deanna’s inner pleading was futile—her feet were cemented to their spot. Apparently, her brain was no longer calling the shots. So she told herself that it should not feel this good to stand plastered against a man while fully clothed and then murmured under her breath, “Come on.”
“Come where?” Lucky asked, his voice dripping with sinful intent.
Beneath her fingers, his words rumbled in his chest as he spoke, and for a moment, Deanna actually entertained the idea of forgetting her no-athlete rule, forgetting Lucky’s reputation, forgetting her sanity, and lifting her head, rising up on her tiptoes, and closing the few inches between them.
At the mere thought of kissing Lucky, her body clenched and shuddered. Her nearly orgasmic response to just thinking about feeling his lips against hers was enough to shock her into motion.
“Nothing. Good game. Goodnight.” Then she sped out of there like her life depended on it.
And she had a sinking feeling that it did. Something told her that, if she threw caution to the wind and took a walk on the Lucky side, she might not survive the inevitable crash and burn.
Breaking into a jog once she’d hit the parking lot, Deanna felt like she was running from a ghost. Maybe she was…
Her mother was one of the most beautiful, self-confident, self-reliant women Deanna knew, and Victoria Lane’s fling with Doug Bishop had almost destroyed her. Her mother had spent years waiting by the phone, living in a constant state of depression and disappointment.
She’d told her that men like her father were after one thing: the chase. After they’d gotten what they had wanted, they moved on to the next chase. Although Deanna ignored most of what came out of that woman’s mouth, she had to admit that she’d observed that exact behavior whenever she spent time around her dad and his teammates.
Every time her mom talked about the summer she’d spent with Deanna’s dad, a sadness filled her voice, her eyes, her entire being. The talk always came with the same warning…if you play with fire, you’ll get burned.
Well, Deanna didn’t play with fire. She fought it—just like she was fighting every urge Lucky inspired…
Chapter 7
‡
“Twenty one, twenty two,” Lucky grunted as he gripped the steel bar tighter. “Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five.”
After dropping the bar back in its cradle with a crash, Lucky let his arms fall to his sides. He was exhausted, and the source of his fatigue was a five-foot-four, green-eyed, brown-haired girl who’d gotten so far under his skin that, at this point, she was part of his DNA.
It’d been three days since he’d seen her. Three days since she’d run out of the Roadhouse so fast that she’d left skid marks. Three days since he’d had one of the best nights of his life from simply being in Deanna’s presence.
It’d been three days, but somehow, time was playing a trick on him, because it felt more like weeks, months, years—not days.
For the last few Deanna-less days, an empty ache had taken up residence in his gut and chest. The first day, Lucky had thought he must have been getting sick. He hadn’t had the flu since he’d been in the Army, but he figured that that had to be it. So he’d visited the local doctor, who had assured him that he was fine. But Lucky had insisted on getting a B12 shot just as a precaution.
Yesterday, he’d figured that the shot hadn’t kicked in yet.
Then, this morning, after a restless night of his mind playing and replaying every minute he and Deanna had spent together like a bad movie montage¸ Lucky realized what was wrong with him, and it didn’t have anything to do with influenza.
He wasn’t sick.
He missed her.
He missed a woman he’d had to trick into playing a game of pool with him. A woman who had point-blank told him that she didn’t want anything from him. A woman who, the second he had seen her, had made the rest of the world cease to exist. A woman who he felt like he knew so strongly, that he was starting to consider that reincarnation was real. A woman who looked sexier in jeans and a tank top than any Victoria’s Secret model at a lingerie shoot.
Since turning eighteen and enlisting, Lucky had been on the move. During his military career, he’d been stationed in four different states and traveled to over a dozen countries, meeting amazing people along the way. And he’d gone months and years at a time without seeing his brothers. He thought about them and wished he could see them, but he never missed them to this magnitude.
He’d never mistaken being homesick for a real illness.
Lucky’s phone rang and his manager’s number popped up.
During his training, he didn’t normally take phone calls. He zoned out the world and went into beast mode. But, since that obviously wasn’t happening today, he answered the call, happy for the distraction.
“Hey.”
“You sitting down?” Jerry asked.
No. He was lying down. Feeling sorry for himself.
Pushing up to a sitting position, Lucky answered, “Yeah.”
“Energysplash is in.”
This was huge. This was the kind of sponsorship every fighter would give his left nut for. The kind of sponsorship you celebrated for having it locked down.
He knew that logically, but he didn’t feel even the slightest bit of excitement over news that, a year ago, he would’ve lost his mind over. News he would’ve had to work to calm down after he’d heard it. News that would’ve made his entire year, not just his day.
Lucky waited to feel something. Anything. But all he felt was numb. And empty.
“Are you there? Did you hear me? Energysplash is in!” Jerry repeated with more enthusiasm.
“Yeah, I heard you. That’s great.” Lucky was more confused than ever.
Since talking to Levi, he’d been waiting for a sign; something to give him a clue as to what he should do. This was a blinking neon sign and his only instinct was to turn the light off.
“‘That’s great’!? ‘That’s great’!? Dude, what’s going on with you? This is what we wanted. This is what we’ve been working for. This is a hell of a lot better than great.”
“I know.” Frustration coursed through Lucky’s veins as he opened and closed h
is gloved hand.
“If you know, then why do you sound like I just told you your dog got run over by a car?”
“I’m just tired.” Lucky wasn’t lying. He was seriously draggin’ his ass today.
“Well, wake the fuck up! I don’t know what the hell you’re doing out there in California, but you need to get your shit together. There’s no ink on the contract. We’re still in negotiations for Moyer, and if his camp gets wind of you being tired, we’re screwed.”
Some athletes surrounded themselves with “yes men.” They blew smoke up their clients’ asses and made them feel like they were living gods. Lucky had never done that. He always valued honesty in his camp. The people who worked for him, with him, always said what was on their minds. He left the ass-kissing for the bedroom.
Maybe it was because he’d grown up in a rough suburb of Detroit and had had a less-than-privileged home life. Or maybe it was because he had two brothers who never pulled punches with him, so that’s what he was used to. Or maybe it was because he wanted to be the best, and to be the best, you have to surround yourself with the best—and the best weren’t the brown-nosing types.
Whatever the reason, he’d never had a problem with Jerry, Alder, or anyone he worked with calling it how they saw it.
Until now.
He really didn’t need to get a lecture on what it was going to take to make the kind of bank he wanted to make with this next fight. Though he needed to hear what Jerry was telling him, he also didn’t want to take his frustration out on someone who by no means deserved it.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Great. Maybe, by then, you’ll have removed your head from your a—”
Lucky disconnected the call, but he knew where it had been going. And Jerry was right…about everything.
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees as Levi’s words played in his head. “Maybe it’s time to consider retirement. Have you given any thought to what your life is going to look like after MMA?”
Had he? No. He hadn’t.
Logan had always accused Lucky of living in the moment and never planning ahead. But he’d never really considered that he was right because he had always had a plan.
In high school, his plan had been to graduate. When he’d graduated, his plan had been to join the Army. In the Army, his plan had been to become a Ranger. Once he’d gotten out, his plan had been to pursue a career in MMA. When he’d established a career, his plan had been to fight The Hammer.
Now, he didn’t have a plan.
“You look like shit.”
When he looked up, Alder Hanson was walking into the gym. His trainer lifted his dark stunna shades and dropped his duffel bag before he made one more uninvited observation. “This place looks like shit.”
“Good to see you too,” Lucky replied flatly as he began unwrapping the tape around his wrist. He only wore gloves for grips when he didn’t have a spotter, but his spotter had arrived and he was already talking shit. Literally.
“Damn.” Alder shook his head as he narrowed his eyes at him in an assessing glare. “I thought you said that when you moved to Hope Falls, there weren’t going to be any more ‘all-night’ training sessions. What happened? Just couldn’t resist the mountain girls?”
For the past few months, Lucky had been categorizing his hookups as “stamina training.” Alder wasn’t a fan. But his trainer had nothing to worry about because there was only one girl Lucky couldn’t resist and, although she did live in the mountains, he would never classify her as that.
“Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I have been training solo since I got here. There haven’t even been any online training sessions.”
“We are talking about sex, right?” Alder tilted his head.
Lucky nodded. “Yep.”
“You haven’t hooked up since you’ve been here?” The disbelief in his trainer’s voice was a little dramatic.
“It’s been two weeks.” Lucky stretched his hands over his head as he moved to the corner of the gym, where the boxes that held the octagon he’d ordered were. The rest of the equipment was set up, but he’d been waiting until he had another pair of hands to put that bad boy together.
“I know. It’s been two weeks.” Alder had a dumbstruck expression on his face.
“Stop being an asshole.” Lucky motioned for him to come over and help with the boxes.
Shaking his head slightly, Alder blinked as he let out an audible breath and walked over to Lucky.
“So is this”—Alder waved his hand up and down—“the not-getting-laid version of Lucky Dorsey? Because, if it is, I can have some girls here in—”
“Help me with the box.” Lucky wasn’t asking; he was demanding. He might’ve wanted to hear his trainer’s and his manager’s honest opinions before, but right now, he just wanted everyone to shut the hell up.
After lifting his hands in surrender, Alder pulled his Swiss Army knife out of his back pocket and quickly sliced the tape on the largest box. They worked in silence for the next hour. Well, neither of them was speaking, but music was blasting from the speakers—the first thing Lucky had unpacked. Music had always pumped him up.
When the cage was fully assembled, Lucky was ready to get in it and start sparring. His trainer had other ideas though.
“Is there any place to eat in Mountain Mayberry?” Alder asked as he wiped the sweat off his brow with a rag. “I blinked and think I missed the entire town.”
“There’s a good place for hamburgers.” In the short time Lucky had been in Hope Falls, he’d been to Sue Ann’s Café so many times that he was pretty sure she considered him a regular.
“Sounds good.”
With no fast food or other restaurants in the small town, it wasn’t like he had a lot of options, but even if there were, he would end up there more times than not. Every meal he’d had at the cozy café had tasted like what he imagined a real home-cooked meal would taste like.
Home cooking wasn’t something he’d had. Ever. When he’d been growing up, his mom hadn’t been the domestic type, and even though now Levi cooked at the bar and at the B&B he owned, in their youth, his big brother’s culinary expertise had been limited to macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, and Hamburger Helper.
“Seriously? Two weeks?” Alder asked as the two headed out.
It had actually been more like six, but if two was too much for Alder to wrap his meathead around, then there was no way Lucky was going to drop that bombshell. For a long time, he lived up to his reputation, but he was different now. He just had to figure out how different.
Chapter 8
‡
“Wait! Rewind. Back up.” Deanna rolled her fingers in backwards motion. “Karina Black and Ryan Perkins live here? In Hope Falls?”
“Yep.” Tessa Maguire nodded as she motioned to the woman behind the counter. “In fact, Sue Ann is Ryan’s grandmother. Oh, and Kyle Austen Reed is basically an honorary resident.”
“Oh my gosh. That’s so crazy!” She had no idea how to process that shocking information in the middle of the crowded café.
How did her cousin forget to mention that Karina and Ryan, two of the biggest pop stars in the world, lived here? Not to mention Kyle Austen Reed, who had just been named the Sexiest Man of the Year and topped Forbes’ list of highest-paid actors, was a frequent visitor.
When Tessa, the chief’s wife, had called this morning and invited her to lunch, Deanna knew that she had to accept the invitation, but she hadn’t been looking forward to it. Mainly because she hated small talk and forced relationships. She didn’t want the chief’s wife to feel obligated to get to know her just because she was the first female firefighter in Hope Falls’ history.
She had prepared herself for an awkward, one-hour obligatory lunch, after which she’d go home and catch up on the latest season of Chicago Fire. Not that she was under any illusion that she’d actually be able to concentrate on any of it, since she’d only been able to think about one thing
and one thing only lately. Or she should say one person only.
Lucky Dorsey.
In her twenty six years, Deanna had had two relationships she would classify as serious. The first had been a colossal mistake ending in a humiliation. The second had been fine. Not great, but not horrible; it just naturally ran its course. But the two drastically different experiences had one thing in common: She hadn’t thought about them incessantly. In fact, she’d been able to go several-hour stretches without them even crossing her mind. And they were her boyfriends. The second had even become her fiancé.
Her relationship with Lucky basically consisted of running into each other, literally, three times now; the trail, the coffee shop, and the bar. They’d shared one game of pool together with mild flirting, and for some reason, her brain was stuck on repeat when it came to playing all things Lucky-related. Those interactions, the images she’d seen on the Internet, the video clips she’d looked up on YouTube…
Yep, that’s right. Yesterday, she’d broken down and dove deeper into the rabbit hole. Instead of just drooling over the pictures of Lucky online, she’d watched all the fights and interviews she could find, which was a lot of footage.
Thankfully, this lunch had been served as a reprieve from her borderline-obsessive compulsion. To her surprise, she and Tessa had hit it off immediately. They’d met at Sue Ann’s Café, the only restaurant in Hope Falls, and had been talking nonstop for the past two hours. Tessa had filled her in on the people of Hope Falls and given her a better understanding of the town. Not in a gossipy or catty way—the chief’s wife was one of the sweetest people Deanna had ever met.
“Yeah, their wedding was just a couple of weeks ago. It was so beautiful. Kyle surprised everyone with Eric Benét serenading Karina and Ryan for their first dance. I cried. Of course, it could just be because I’m overly emotional.” Tessa beamed down at her very large, very pregnant belly.
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