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Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

Page 135

by Grover Swank, Denise


  “Hey Good Lookin?” he asks.

  “No,” I yell back.

  “Forever and Ever, Amen?”

  “No!”

  “What the hell?” he asks, finally walking down the stairs so we can stop yelling at each other. “You know those are my favorites.”

  Holding the bag out to him, I wait for him to take a whiff. He mentioned a few weeks ago that his favorite fruit is pineapple, so I think he’s going to be happy with this combination. When he takes the bag from me and opens it, the groan he makes goes straight to my core.

  Cage’s muffin approval is basically the same sound he makes when he’s coming.

  I can’t be held responsible for my body’s response to that.

  “Islands in the Stream,” I tell him, walking over and stealing a bite from the one he’s holding up.

  “Hey!” He pulls the muffin back with a look of disgust on his face… his beautiful, perfect face.

  Giving him an unapologetic smile, I walk around him and over to the mats. “So, what’s left to do for tonight? I’m ready for you to put me to work.”

  “I’ll put you to work, alright,” Cage mutters, his mouth half-full of muffin.

  He actually is going to put me to work, and not just in the bedroom. When his regular classes start next week, I’ll be helping with the self-defense classes. After this week, Cage will no longer work at the Pink Pony, going full-time at the studio.

  Ignoring his sexual advances, I redirect the conversation. “You know, when this all started, I thought you were just going to teach me how to channel my anger,” I say, thoughtfully. “But you taught me so much more than that.”

  “Like how to kick my ass,” he says, a mischievous grin on his face.

  “That,” I agree. “And how to fight, not just physically, but for myself.”

  He sits the bag of muffins down and walks over to me, grabbing me by the waist. “You already had it in you… I just helped you find it.”

  “You helped me see I was worth fighting for.”

  Crystal-blue eyes bore into mine as Cage’s expression turns serious. “You are worth it,” he says, his voice full of earnest. “I’ve known it since the first time I laid eyes on you… I’m glad you finally caught up to speed.”

  Rising up on my tip toes, I press my lips to his. “I love you,” I whisper, hoping he knows how much. “Thank you for everything… for being my friend and always being on my side… for helping me fight my battles.”

  “Always,” he says, his lips brushing my cheek as he kisses his way to my neck, strong arms wrapping me up and pulling me closer. “I love you, Tempest Cassidy...and I’ll always fight for you… for us. Never doubt that.”

  THE END

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, we’d like to thank the Queen, aka Evil Overlord, Penny Reid for giving us this amazing opportunity to write in her world. We’ve been Reiders and fans of her work for a while now, often commenting back and forth between ourselves about how well our characters would fit in the Pennyverse. Then, low and behold, the heavens opened up and she offered us a chance to do just that.

  Fiona “Finger Guns” Fisher, you’re the woman! We don’t know how you do all you do, but we bow down to your greatness. Thank you for everything!

  Being a part of Smartypants Romance has been a dream come true. The other authors we’re privileged to work with have been nothing short of amazing. Their camaraderie, championship, and creativity are invaluable. In no particular order, because we love you all equally, we’d like to thank Karla Sorensen, Daisy Prescott, April White, M. E. Carter, Cathy Yardley, Piper Sheldon, Ellie Kay, L. B. Dunbar, Katie Ashley, Stella Weaver, and Nora Everly.

  To our fellow bakery girls—Karla and Ellie—DONNERBAKERY4LIFE.

  For this book, we’d like to give a special shout out to Miranda Lambert for writing the album—Four the Record. Music is the key to our soul and the songs on this album unlocked the heart of our character, Tempest Cassidy.

  We’d also like to tip our hats to the Country Western greats that made the muffins possible: Waylon, George, Hank, Willie, Johnny, and Merle.

  We can never not thank our amazing families. Our mamas probably read these and they’d be offended if we didn’t show them some love. Also, our kids, who thankfully are now old enough to fend for themselves when we hole up in our writing caves.

  Pamela Stephenson is always the first to read our words and we appreciate her honesty and cheerleading skill. She’s always there from the beginning, watching and reading as the story takes shape. Thanks for being you, Pamela!!

  We’d also like to thank Nikki, our editor. Thank you for always approaching every new story we throw at you with an insightful eye. We kind of threw this one on you at the last minute and we appreciate you always working us in and making a place for us in your busy schedule.

  Our proofreader, friend, and drinking buddy, Mrs. Karin Enders. Thank you for everything! We appreciate your time, effort, and most of all, your friendship!

  A special thank you to Shannon for always catching the sneakiest mistakes. You’re the best!

  Thank you to our pimp team and everyone in Jiffy Kate’s Southern Belles. All of you make our days better. It takes a village and we’re so happy you’re a part of ours.

  About the Author

  Jiffy Kate is the joint pen name for Jiff Simpson and Jenny Kate Altman. They're co-writing besties who share a brain. They also share a love of cute boys, stiff drinks, and fun times.

  Together, they've written over twenty stories. Their first published book, Finding Focus, was released in November 2015. Since then, they've continued to write what they know--southern settings full of swoony heroes and strong heroines.

  * * *

  Website: http://www.jiffykate.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jiffykate

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7352135.Jiffy_Kate

  Twitter: @jiffykatewrites

  Instagram: @jiffykatewrites

  Find Smartypants Romance online:

  Website: www.smartypantsromance.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/smartypantsromance/

  Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/smartypantsromance

  Twitter: @smartypantsrom

  Instagram: @smartypantsromance

  Read on for:

  1. Sneak Peek of Beef Cake, Book #2 in the Fighting For Love Series by Jiffy Kate

  2. Jiffy Kate’s Booklist

  Sneak Peek: Beef Cake, Book #2 in the Fighting For Love Series by Jiffy Kate

  Gunnar

  “Oh, yeah, that’s it!”

  You know when you’re somewhere between dreaming and waking up and you’re unsure what’s real or not?

  That’s where I am right now.

  “Right here,” he says, somewhat out of breath. “That’s perfect, baby. Stay still, though, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Don’t worry about me, I can handle it.”

  I could’ve sworn I was having a sex dream but now, I’m not so sure.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  They’re going to break the fucking bed with the way the walls are shaking.

  “Shit, it’s still not going in all the way. Do it harder, Cage.”

  And, I’m awake.

  Hearing my oldest brother’s name being called out and told to do it harder is enough to kick me out of the deepest sleep.

  Guaranteed.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  “That’s it! Just a little more, babe. You’ve almost got it.”

  “I don’t want to break it,” Cage growls out in frustration.

  “One more stroke and you’re there.”

  My god. There aren’t enough pillows in the state of Tennessee to bury my head in to block out the sound of my brother and his girlfriend having sex.

  Also, is he trying to kill the poor girl? He’s twice her size and it sounds like he’s trying to plow her through the damn wall.

  BANG.

  “That’s it
!” she exclaims, elation thick in her tone. “You did it!”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you, babe.” He sounds out of breath and it’s all I can do to keep last night’s dinner from spewing all over the bedroom. I could’ve lived another twenty-two years without being witness to this exhibition.

  “That stud was a nightmare to get the nail through.”

  Huh?

  “That’s why these old buildings are so great,” she says. “They were built to last, strong and sturdy, just like my Viking man.”

  Tempest’s voice just dropped.

  Why did her voice drop?

  Cage laughs, and his voice is deeper and . . . husky? And that’s my cue to get up and make it known I can hear everything going on before things really get going. It also might be time to move to the other side of the apartment.

  Or the fucking state.

  I’ve been here in Green Valley for a week and it’s been great so far, but I don’t want to cramp their style or make things uncomfortable. I also don’t want to inadvertently be a third wheel to their fuck-fest on a regular basis.

  That happened too many times back home with my other brothers and it’s a trend I don’t care to continue. If I had a job, I could move into my own place, but Cage is a fucking hardass and the training schedule has been brutal. Any employment outside of training for a fight and teaching classes is out of the question. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s why I’m here—to train and be the best, and eventually, to be as good as him.

  By the time I’ve dressed, brushed my teeth, and opened my door, Cage has Tempest pushed up against the wall across from my room with his tongue down her throat, right next to the framed picture they obviously just hung.

  Tempest immediately pulls away and hides her face in his chest as she chuckles, but my brother can’t bother to even pretend to be embarrassed.

  “Just let me get to the kitchen before you two attack each other again, please,” I mutter, quickly walking past them, avoiding all eye contact.

  Tempest calls out, “Sorry!” But Cage follows up with, “No, we’re not,” before I hear a door slam closed.

  Quickly, I fix myself a protein shake and head downstairs to the studio to begin my morning workout. I’m not mad at the lovebirds upstairs, not in the least. I’m thrilled Cage has finally found his person and is in love. But I’ve just met Tempest and, although I think she’s great and perfect for my brother, I’m not comfortable seeing her being manhandled by the guy.

  I’m used to my brothers bringing random chicks to the studio and to the house we used to share, but I knew I’d most likely never see the women a second time. In this case, I’m pretty sure Tempest will become my sister-in-law, sooner rather than later, and I’d rather not know any intimate details about her, if you know what I mean.

  My warm-up takes the usual thirty minutes or so and then I switch to my official workout. It’s seamless, one flowing into the other. It's like breathing to me: easy but necessary. I need to feel the burn of my muscles, the sweat rolling down my body, the tightening of my lungs every day. It helps to clear my mind and stay focused while getting me closer to my goal of being the top MMA fighter in my weight class.

  I’ve been going at it for a good hour when Cage finally waltzes in, his smile making it very clear he was going at it good too, but in a different way.

  Asshole.

  Between punches, I glance at him, giving him an intense glare just like I would an opponent. I swear if I wasn’t wearing boxing gloves, I’d flip him off just for being his smug self and silently rubbing his sexcapades in my face. It’s been way too long since I’ve been balls deep in anything besides my palm and I don’t appreciate being woken up with a resounding reminder that, once again, Cage gets everything he wants.

  And he’s the best at it.

  Fucker.

  He’s even good at retiring, even though it was forced upon him thanks to a career-ending injury. Regardless, he’s excelling at it, totally making it his bitch. This new gym is everything he ever wanted Erickson’s to be and more. It’s personal, one-on-one coaching. There isn’t any showboating. Everyone is treated equally.

  Sure, he doesn’t have many patrons yet, but he’s building a good, solid foundation. Besides, once I go pro, he’ll have all the publicity he can handle, and I’ll be doing for him what he spent his career doing for our family gym back home.

  “I’m sorry, man,” he finally says, breaking the silence with a laugh. When he sees I don’t believe his bullshit, he holds up his hands in surrender. “I am, I mean it.”

  Eventually, I hold my punches and face him straight on. “Look, I’m happy for you and Tempest, but I really don’t want to walk in on the two of you fucking. If I need to find another place to live, I will.”

  “Don’t be stupid, G. We’ve had this place to ourselves for months; you’ve been here a week. It’s an adjustment for all of us, but we’ll make it work.”

  A few beats pass before I give him a nod, sweat dripping off my hair and onto my forehead. After swiping the back of my covered hand over the damp skin, I continue hitting the bag in front of me. I know he’s right, and I’m damn thankful to be here. Without Cage and this opportunity, I’d have to tuck tail and go back to Dallas and get lost in the mix of Erickson MMA. With all the big names and bigger egos, that’s the last thing I want.

  Even though Green Valley, Tennessee is a culture shock, it’s already growing on me and it’s the perfect place to buckle down and focus on my end-goal—be the best, no distractions, make it to the top.

  I’m toweling off an hour later when I hear Cage call my name.

  “Yeah?” I holler back.

  “Can you give me a hand hanging this new bag?” he yells from the other side of the studio.

  Recently, he acquired another portion of the strip of old buildings the studio resides in. It’s a great set-up. He and Tempest have turned the upstairs into great living quarters, and everything below is nothing but mats and bags with mirrors lining most of the walls. Eventually, Cage plans to build a ring in the middle of the new building, amping up his arsenal of training equipment.

  Fuck, before he’s done, this place will be better equipped than Erickson’s. He’ll have enough space to host his own events. Being in the backwoods of Tennessee, there’s nothing like this for miles. You’d have to go into Knoxville to find something even close, but all of those gyms lack one thing.

  Cage Erickson.

  I might be biased seeing as how he’s my older brother and I’ve always looked up to him, putting him on a pedestal, but it’s true. Before his injury, he dominated the sport. Everyone wanted a piece of him even though they knew they couldn’t beat him. They just wanted the bragging rights: I fought Cage Erickson—The Fighting Viking.

  I want that.

  I want to be everything he was . . . but better. I’m going to fight smarter and be in it for the long haul. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Now that I’ve paid my penance and finished college—something Cage never did—I’m going for my real goals.

  “On my way,” I finally call back, tossing my towel down and jogging over to where he’s standing on a tall ladder, marking where to drill bolts into a beam that’s attached to the ceiling.

  “Hold the ladder,” he instructs when I walk in. “This thing is shaky as fuck and if I don’t get this in, I’m going to Hulk smash this place.” He mutters continuously as he positions the bolt and begins to drill.

  Hanging bags is something my brothers and I have done together for years and we usually make quick work of it. This time, though, is proving to be more difficult.

  Cage has managed to strip a couple of bolts trying to drill them into the old steel beam and he’s getting more pissed by the second.

  Meanwhile, I’m trying not to laugh and piss him off even more.

  “You got a good grip on the bag?” he asks when he finally gets the bolt in and attaches the hook.

  “Got it,” I tell him, ready to get this shit ov
er with so we can go back to training.

  As I’m holding the bag, I feel the tension give way. Instinctively, I look up just in time to see the chain whip through the air.

  I try to drop the bag and guard my face, but I’m not fast enough. The impact of the chain hitting my face knocks me off balance and I fall to the floor with a thud.

  “Oh, shit, man! Are you okay?” I hear Cage jump down off the ladder and the next second he’s kneeling down beside me, hovering. “Let me look at your face.”

  “I’m all right, just a little stunned.” I hiss, pressing my hand to the skin and feeling a sting. “I might have a shiner, but those are a dime a dozen around here.” Sitting up slowly, I try to get my bearings.

  Cage curses under his breath before rushing off. Seconds later, he tosses a towel at me with instructions to hold it to my cheek then grabs his phone and calls Tempest.

  “Hey, baby. Look, we’ve had a bit of an accident in the studio and I have to take Gunnar to the ER.” His eyes grow concerned and he draws his brows together when I bring the towel away from my face and we both see all the blood. “No, I’m sure he’ll be fine, but I’d rather a professional check him out just to be safe.”

  My stomach rolls as I register how the once-white towel is now bright fucking red. You’d think being a fighter, I would be good with blood, but this is more than I’m used to. Besides that, typically when I see blood, it’s usually coming from someone else. Not to be overly cocky, but I'm a damn good fighter.

  “Keep that towel on your face, dammit,” Cage orders.

  “Where the fuck is it coming from?”

  Come to think of it, my face feels a little numb.

  Cage grabs me by the arm and helps me stand, then quickly guides me outside to his truck.

  Once I’m seated and buckled in, he jumps behind the wheel and takes off, tires screeching as we leave.

  “You have to talk to me, man. What’s going on?” I’m practically begging for answers because all I know is my face is bleeding and we’re headed to a hospital somewhere. My brother’s silence, while probably soothing for him, is only causing more panic to rise in me.

 

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