She pulled in a sharp breath. Her chest gave a pang and she asked, “Oh, my…he’s been injured, hasn’t he? Is he in the hospital? Did you have to fly him out?”
“Whoa!” Mason held up his hands. “Not so bad. Dustin got word you were here and decided he didn’t want to see you. Not yet. I’ve got a good idea where he is. Tomorrow Tavvy’s going to check up on him and he’s got to come back for training.”
Avery kicked at a clump of show. “Really—he left because of me?”
“Hey, don’t take it bad. I think Dustin may be worried you really will talk him out of this.”
“Well, if he stays away, I guess I do win.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose. The cold had started to make it drip. And she was not going to think that Dustin’s running away was hurting her. No, she was old enough not to let that matter—and she could ignore that small twist inside her stomach.
Mason shook his head and started for the larger building again. “Let’s not have you getting any ideas about planning a long stay. Like I said, we have a full house. Besides there are other training camps.”
She pulled a face. “Not if you heard Dustin talk about it.”
“Really?”
She glanced at him and trudged through the snow. “It’s all he talks about—training, the camp, the fights. You and your brothers. Sometimes, I feel like—” She cut off the words.
“Like what?” Mason said his voice low.
“I don’t know why I should tell you.”
“Why not?” He threw his arms wide. “It’s just us and the snow.” Stepping up on the wooden porch, he held out a hand to her.
She put her gloved hand in his hand—the steps looked icy to her. Standing close to him, the warmth off his body washing over her, and him smiling at her, she gave into the impulse to confide in someone. “I feel like I already lost Dustin to this fighting already.”
Mason squeezed her hand. “I promise—he’s fine. And he’s not…look, he’s just avoiding you at the moment. It’s damn juvenile, and not the response I would have expected from him, but it is what it is. He and I are going to have a long talk about maturity. Running away from one’s problems never solves anything.”
Avery dropped his hand. “Meaning I’m the problem?”
“No, you’re not. But that’s how he’s just ducking when he should stand up for what he wants. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of this weather and sit by a warm fire for a while. Why don’t you wait in the lodge while I grab your things and get a fire started in the cabin. Then you can either rest, or if you want to shower and freshen up, and I’ll fix us something hot to drink.”
Avery glanced at the darkening sky. The sun had already dropped behind the mountains. “I suppose trying to find Dustin right now isn’t a good idea. And sitting by a fire actually does sound good.”
Opening the door for her, Mason swept her a bow. “Hang out and I’ll be back for you before you know it.”
She stepped inside. The warmth did feel good and the tightness relaxed in her chest. She pulled off her woolen cap and glanced around. The lodge looked comfortable—big furniture, a blazing fire, books scattered around the room. She glanced at one of them and was surprised it wasn’t on fighting, but was on computers.
She had been going to college for a degree in IT. When her parent’s had died, she’d quit college to help raise her brothers. She’d used the Internet to teach herself and had worked online from home and while the boys were younger.
She’d made a nice living and she had built up a list of clients whose systems she remotely accessed to keep their networks up and running. That work still needed her attention, and she had four clients whose files needed to be backed up and archived before Monday morning.
When Mason came back, she jammed on her cap and grabbed her laptop from him. “Do you have Internet up here?”
“Sure. Why?” Mason asked. He led the way out and nodded to the nearest cabin. “Right over here. And you’re in luck. This place has the best signal of any of the cabins. You should have no problems if you need to get some work done.”
Avery followed Mason into the cabin. She gasped in surprise. From the front of the cabin, the structure appeared to be a very small space, but once inside, she saw the cabin had a lot more room.
“Amazing isn’t it? Come on, I’ll show you the bedroom you’ll be using.” Mason led her down the hallway. Doors opened into the bathroom and at the end one door stood open, showing an empty bedroom. He set her things down near the bed. “Each cabins had two bedrooms with bathrooms for each. There’s a laundry room at the back.” He waved to the door at the far end of the hall. “Living room up front like you saw. Big meals are served in the lodge, but all the cabins have a small kitchen, which is where I’ll be making you something hot. Coffee or hot chocolate? Your choice.”
“How about tea?”
He glanced at her and grinned. “Trying to surprise me—that wasn’t a choice, but I think we can handle your request. I also have wine and beer.”
She followed Mason back into the living room and into a small kitchenette. She glanced around.
Moss rock covered the west wall around the fireplace. A wooden mantle sat over a large hearth. Mason had a fire burning and it was already warming the room. Comfortable couches done in rich neutral tones, a wooden floor covered by throw rugs, and photos of the pines on the cream-colored walls gave the place a homey feel. “It’s a lot larger than I expected. Whoever decorated this place certainly knows what they’re doing.”
“Yeah, Terry Anders and his daughter run a great place.”
She glanced at him. “Are the cabins all the same?”
“The layout is, but the look is different. Most of the fighters appreciate having a comfortable bed and a great TV, but some of the guys like things a little more Spartan. Hey, do you want to grab a shower while I cook? And how about a snack, too?”
Avery pulled off her coat. “A shower actually sounds really good. Are you sure I’m not putting you out? I mean, you don’t have to cook for me.”
“I never mind cooking. I was the cook for my brothers, and I can still find my way around a kitchen. So how hungry are you? Snack, meal, or starving and could eat a steak?”
Avery smiled. “I can’t believe I’m saying that after the meal we ate at the diner, but I could eat again. Maybe a small steak?”
“A good appetite is a good thing. How do you like yours cooked? Medium rare?”
“Sounds great—but are you sure I’m not keeping you from getting settled in your own place?”
Mason’s cheeks reddened but his smile stayed in place. “You’re not keeping me from anything. Now go shower, and steaks will be done in half an hour.”
With a nod, Avery headed back to her room. She unpacked and hopped into the shower. She hoped that she’d just misread Mason and her sleeping arrangements. Two bedrooms to a cabin. And this was Dustin’s cabin. Wasn’t it?
She thought back to how tidy everything seemed. The living room didn’t show empty plates or scattered beer cans, the kitchen sink had seemed devoid of dirty dishes, clothes weren’t strewn across the floors. Maybe Dustin had stopped being such a slob. That would be a good thing if he’d learned that much from his fighting training.
Pulling on a pair of fleece pajama pants with cartoon characters, she rubbed her arms. She dragged on a tank top and an oversized sweatshirt and sat on the bed to pull on fuzzy socks. She used her hands to gather her long hair up into a high ponytail, securing it with an elastic band. Her hair was so thick, she hadn’t washed it since it would take hours to dry.
Standing up, she took a critical look at herself in the mirror above the dresser. She almost laughed. She thought she looked much more like a college kid, and not someone well into her late twenties. She ran a hand down the sweatshirt. There was a time she would have worn something slinky and sophisticated. She’d dated a lot when she’d been in college—and she’d just started to fall for David when things…when everyt
hing changed.
She gave a sigh. Thoughts of David always left her sighing. He’d seemed the perfect match for her—he’d been mature, kind, thoughtful. But the truth was they’d been more like really good friends who occasionally held hands. David’s focus had been on school—and in some ways he’d been romantic, but not very physical. In fact, looking back on it, David was utterly unlike the man waiting for her outside this bedroom door. She shook her head
Mason wasn’t like any guy she’d ever known. Funny, dynamic, and sexy, she couldn’t imagine him being ‘just a friend’ to any girl. Not given the way he liked to stand a little too close, and certainly not the way he kept staring at her, like he was more than interested. But he was handsome and he had just enough of a rough edge about him to spark her interest. She touched her lips and wondered what his kisses might be like. Rough? Or gentle? And when he stripped down, would he look as good as those other fighters she’d watched tonight?
Oh, stop it.
She didn’t want Mason to know she’d been thinking of him. And no way was she getting involved with a fighter. It didn’t matter that Mason affected her like no other man ever had. His touch sent skitters over her skin. But he really was the last one she should be feeling this way about. Not only was he a fighter, but he was training Dustin to fight!
She bit down on a thumb nail. Maybe she could use that attraction between them, though. He’d told her she’d never win him over to her side, but what if she could use some of whatever was between them to sway him. She shook her head at the thought. She wasn’t much of a seductress—not enough practice—and she was pretty sure she was trying to talk herself into just a small fling with Mason.
But would it stay that way? Or would she get herself in trouble? Was Mason really the white knight kind of guy, or more like the other fighters she’d met through Dustin—the guys only interested in using sex as filler between fights?
She tugged on her sweatshirt. At least that would give her a barrier between herself and the way he made her feel. Maybe it would help her keep her head on straight. She tugged down her top once more and headed back into the living room.
Her mouth watered at the smell of grilled meat and onions. She stopped near the kitchen. Mason turned from the stove and his face froze.
Chapter Seven
Mason took in her appearance, from the long hair gathered back to the fuzzy socks peeking out from beneath the most ridiculous pajama pants he’d ever seen! What on earth was she wearing? Clearing his throat, he dried his hands and stepped toward her. He watched her eyes darken as he drew closer. He was impressed when she held her ground. He touched a finger to her sweat top, “Nice outfit.”
Avery blushed. She pushed at a stray strand of hair. “Thanks. I was ready to be comfortable.”
Reaching out, he tucked the hair behind her ear. Mason dropped his eyes to the fleece pants and nodded, “I can see that.” Don’t think about how nice she smells. Don’t think about her having just stepped out of the shower, without any clothes on, and all that warm skin.
His lips felt so dry, he had to run his tongue over them, twice. He needed something to take his mind off this woman—boy did he need it if she could look this good in dumpy clothes. Forcing himself to turn away, he went back to check on the steaks.
“Good news is you’re eating Dustin’s steak. We were supposed to have dinner and watch the video of Shamus MacDougal’s last fight.”
Avery sat down at the small dining table. “Well, that’s an Irish name.”
“Yep, that’s even his nickname—the ‘Fighting Irish. He’s one of the best up-and-coming fighters in the semi-professional circuit. Strong, quick, and fearless—the perfect combination for a champion.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Avery shiver. He thought about changing the subject, but maybe if she knew more about MMA she wouldn’t be so tied up in knots about it. “But he’s like every other fighter—he’s got a weakness. And I don’t mean chocolate. Hey, do you want some wine? I’ve got some white in the fridge or a Cabernet that’s open.”
Wrinkling her nose, she waved a hand. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“What? You’re not driving. The red goes better with steak, but I’m watching my figure, so it’s white for me.”
“Okay—a small glass of the Cab sounds good.” She tipped her head. “But first tell me what’s your weakness?”
He grinned. “No fair telling. But, yeah, I’ve got one too. All fighters have at least one. A smart fighter studies their opponent until they can identify what it is and capitalize on it. Dustin’s a little too wet behind the ears yet to really handle that kind of analysis. That’s one of the things we’re working on—watching enough tapes so he can come up with a game plan in just seconds. Learning how to read the other guy.” Except now I’m stuck with a missing fighter…and a sister who worries.
Mason glanced at that worried sister. She was watching the door as if she expected Dustin to walk through it any second. She needed a distraction here. Heading to the fridge, he pulled out lettuce, tomatoes, and a cucumber. He fixed a small salad while the steaks grilled, and then he pulled a loaf of fresh bread from the pantry. “Oh, by the way, Marguerite—the compound housekeeper and cook—she left me a pecan pie. And, yeah, that is my weakness—good food. If I’m not careful, Marguerite has me moving up in weight class.” He glanced at Avery and saw her staring at him.
She shook her head. “I have no idea what that means.”
“What? You don’t know your brother fights bantam class? He goes up against other guys his size—the whole idea of a fair fight is you want to see who’s the best in class.”
“It all sounds barbaric to me.”
Mason poured himself a half a glass of white wine, letting it sit on the counter to breathe while the meat finished cooking. “Hey, want to be a help? You can set the table. Dishes and forks and stuff over in that sideboard there.” He watched as she bent over to pull out the dishes. Those sweats might be baggy, but they still did a nice job outlining her ass—a first class one. Letting his eyes travel down her body, he enjoyed the view. And then he heard the steaks pop. “Ready to eat?” he asked.
He pulled out the steaks and plopped them onto the pottery plates Avery had set on the table. “It’s just salad and bread to go with. Given the desserts Marguerite keeps stuffing into me, I’m trying to watch the starches.”
“It looks great.” She sat down across from him.
He watched her fuss with her salad and cut the fat off her steak, and then cut it into tiny bits. And was it just him or was the room sizzling with tension between them. She had to be feeling this, too—the pull, the tug, and it got him thinking.
Would she be like this in bed, all picky? Or could he make her forget to be fussy? If she let that long hair of hers down and loose, would she loosen up with it? He drank his wine and tried to get his thoughts off her. Keep thinking she is Dustin’s sister, he told himself.
But it wasn’t working. He liked watching her mouth work—and that had him wondering what she tasted like. He wanted to know more about her—about her mix of seeming toughness and vulnerability. He wanted to know what kinds of sounds she made when she was excited—was she the type to whimper or to tell him just what she wanted? And he was making himself crazy with these kinds of thoughts. She was off limits—even for a fling. But knowing that wasn’t helping him at all.
After consuming only half of her dinner, she pushed her plate away. “Sorry, it’s really good, but I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Mason shook his head, “Don’t be sorry. Why don’t you go sit over by the fire with your wine?”
Avery shook her head. “No, you cooked. I should clean.”
“That’s not necessary. Really.”
“I insist. Go ahead and finish eating. I don’t mind.” She stood up from the table and took her plate to the counter. She began filling the sink with water and soap. She cleaned the pans and turned to retrieve the other dishes from the table, but she turned right into the arms
of Mason.
Mason reacted as usual—fast. He’d been intending to put his dishes next to the sink, but Avery slammed into his chest and he grabbed for her one-handed, juggling his plate with the other. A fork clattered to the floor. “Steady there, speedy.”
He glanced down at her. The feel of her soft body against his was too much temptation to resist. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and under those pants of hers he could feel the curve of her hip pressing right against him.
She stared up at him, eyes wide, but she wasn’t moving away. He could see her breathing had quickened. The pulse thudded quick and hard against her neck. She pressed her hands on his chest, her fingers slightly flexing. Mason knew he was pushing his luck, but with her this close, with the smell of her wrapped around him, with her body so close, he didn’t care. Reaching up, he let his fingertips graze the smooth line of her jaw, watching her eyes darken. “You didn’t wash your hair.”
Avery shook her head slightly. She stared at him, seeming mesmerized. “It takes too long to dry.” Her voice seemed breathy to Mason and way too sexy.
Mason dipped his head to breath in her unique scent. Then he made himself step back. Dustin’s sister! “Let me finish up here. Go sit down.”
Avery nodded and slipped past him. Picking up her wine glass, she walked toward the couch. Mason refused to turn and watch her walk away. Those ridiculous pants had done nothing to cool his libido, and he didn’t need to see her ass swaying as she moved. But he knew one thing—he’d just found another weakness. And that was Avery—Dustin’s sister.
Chapter Eight
Avery settled herself in one of the oversized chairs. She sipped her wine and watched the fire burn. She tried to keep her mind off the gorgeous male currently cleaning up the kitchen behind her. His body had felt wonderful pressed against hers. Talk about hard abs—and that hadn’t been the only thing hard.
She thought about going and retrieving her computer and trying to get some work done tonight—she hadn’t had her head in the job for a while now and her clients hadn’t started to complain yet, but they would if she couldn’t focus.
The Fighter's Stubborn Lover (The Burton Brothers Series Book 2) Page 4
