Tavvy had grinned at him and suggested he catch up to Anders—if he could. That was forty-five minutes ago and he was still trailing behind the old guy. He could hear Tavvy following them in an open vehicle called a Gator, which looked like a cross between a golf cart and a four-wheeler and had been painted John Deere green.
It was sheer determination that had Bryant still putting his feet one in front of the other, rather than begging for a ride back in the vehicle!
As he rounded the top of yet another hill, he was so relieved to see the training camp below, he felt like crying. His lungs were screaming with each breath he took, and his legs had long since gone numb. I’ll be lucky if I can move later on. The old man’s trying to kill me on the first morning!
He pushed himself, needing to prove himself to the man who had been steadily outpacing him the entire run. He’s like a machine! Digging deep, he pulled every ounce of energy he could find up to the surface and increased his pace as he began the last descent. He almost caught up to the man—almost.
When Bryant finally reached the training gym, he watched as Anders walked up to Tavvy—walked, not even showing he was out of breath! He walked up to Tavvy, who had also arrived back at the compound, and he heard the two men share a short laugh while Bryant struggled to bring oxygen into his overworked lungs! After speaking with him briefly, Anders turned his head and watched Bryant suck deep breaths in, bent over at the waist and struggling for control.
Anders waited until Bryant raised his head. Anders offered him a smile and a nod before heading toward the main cabin.
“Where’s he going?” Bryant asked.
“Same place you are. The showers. Rinse off and then come back here. I’ll have a protein shake waiting for you and we’ll finish this morning’s workout off with some bag drills.”
Bryant nodded. He watched Tavvy head inside the training gym, shaking his head and murmuring beneath his breath. He couldn’t make out what the older man was saying, but whatever it was had him laughing.
Chapter 6
Alice entered the main cabin, pulled the skullcap from her head, and then slowly drew out the pins that held her hair up. She gave it a good shake. God, I hate wearing this cap! Alice normally kept her hair gathered in a ponytail, especially when she ran, but that just wasn’t possible right now. It’s only for a few weeks. You can do this!
Nodding in agreement with herself, and appreciating her own encouragements, she walked toward the back of the main floor and pushed her father’s door open. “Daddy? How are you feeling today?”
She approached the bed, hiding the dismay she always felt when she was faced with the physical evidence of how debilitated his body had become. One side of his face was still slack, paralyzed. When he tried to smile, only one side of his mouth turned up.
“Good. You ran?”
“Yes, Dad. I went for a run. The mountains are beautiful this time of year.” I wish you could have gone with me. Since Alice had been a little girl, she and her father had always gone running together first thing in the morning. As she’d grown, their runs had gotten longer and encompassed more difficult terrain.
That habit had continued as she entered college, just not as frequently, given that they no longer lived together—and didn’t even live in the same town. She continued to run while away at college, and she knew her dad had been keeping up his standard routine.
On their last run together, the same morning he’d suffered his first stroke, they had run the six miles, one way, over the neighboring ridge to the lake and back. She missed those times with her father, and she was determined that he get well enough so he could at least follow behind her in the Gator with Tavvy.
She had insisted they purchase the all-terrain vehicle when Tavvy had come on board and they had begun taking their trainees and the local teens with them on their runs. It had been the wise thing to do, and on more than one occasion had saved time in having to send someone back to the compound for transport when there was a twisted ankle, or if an athlete become too ill to complete the run.
Please God, let Daddy get better enough to enjoy life once again.
Her father’s voice interrupted her morose thoughts. “You train today?”
Alice looked at him for a moment, hoping Marguerite hadn’t given away what they were doing. Her father needed to focus all his energies on getting better, not on worrying about whether or not Alice had gotten herself in over her head. “I thought I might spend some time in the gym this afternoon. These last few weeks I’ve gotten fat and lazy!” She smiled at him sweetly.
“No. Not fat. And never lazy.” Her father gave her a crooked smile.
“Well, whatever is causing my jeans to fit a bit snugger, I thought maybe I’d spend some time in the gym with Tavvy. He hasn’t had anyone around to beat him up for a few weeks now.”
Her father tried to smile. One of their running jokes was that Alice could take Tavvy in the ring. At two twenty, the older man outweighed Alice by over a hundred pounds, and he was almost eight inches taller. But she had youth and speed on her side, and most days she managed to get the upper hand on him.
“Be careful.”
“I will.” She turned, hearing Marguerite in the doorway. “Good morning, Marguerite. How are you today?”
“Just fine, thank you, Miss Alice. I’ve made you a recovery shake. It’s sitting in the kitchen for you.”
Alice stood up and thanked the woman on her way out the door. She turned to her father again. “Daddy, I’ll see you later. The therapist will be coming by in a little bit. Don’t be too hard on him, he’s only trying to help.” She winked at him and headed back through the kitchen.
Grabbing the shake from the kitchen counter, she took it up to her bedroom and finished it off while the water heated in the shower. Getting dressed after her quick shower, she happened to glance out her window and saw Bryant exiting his cabin and heading for the gym.
He had showered and changed, and rather than wearing a shirt, he had it draped over one shoulder, giving her a perfect view of his smooth chest and muscles. God, he’s gorgeous. She spent long minutes at the window watching him walk, before shaking her head and refocusing on his reason for being at the compound.
The money.
She grabbed yet another cap and pulled the oversized T-shirt over her bound breasts before she headed down the stairs and out the back door. Tavvy had already been given his instructions for the remainder of the morning, and she would only be observing and making notes for the afternoon’s training session.
I can handle this. Observation. Easy stuff, right?
Chapter 7
Easy stuff? Who was I kidding? Alice held back a sigh and deliberately closed her fists, her now unpainted nails digging into her palms just short of drawing blood. What is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be observing his fighting style, not lusting over his body. Which just happens to be astonishingly gorgeous.
Bryant Burton was truly poetry in motion when he moved. His athletic body flowed smoothly from one stance to another, and she couldn’t remember another fighter who had posed such a challenge to Tavvy. And it’s only the first day!
He’d yet to don his shirt, too. Alice couldn’t help but notice Bryant’s chest and back were covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She watched his muscles bunch and release, and found herself having a hard time keeping her mind focused on fighting.
Deeply tanned, his skin was free of the ink that adorned most fighters these days, something she truly appreciated as she’d never been attracted to tattoos, or the idea of needles. But as far as she could tell, that is where the differences ended. He was probably just another arrogant knucklehead.
Yet instead of being able to concentrate and formulate some rational thoughts about his training, she found herself unable to stop the visceral reaction she was having to Bryant’s performance. She’d never experienced this in relation to a fighter before and found it disconcerting and confusing.
Deciding Tavvy needed a break, she
motioned him over and suggested he put Bryant on the wing chun dummy. The wooden structure was built so that when struck, it pivoted and turned, forcing the opponent to continuously block and counterattack.
Her father had specifically designed this particular version of the training device, modeled after the traditional kung-fu training piece, so the two arms and the single leg projecting from the main tree-like center post would require the fighter to toughen up his forearms and legs.
The structure was teak coated with several layers of shellac, giving it both a nice shine and longevity. Two padded surfaces were strapped around the center post, indicating where an opponent’s head and chest would be. By striking the wooden appendages, the device would spin, forcing the opponent to block or get hit.
Tavvy nodded. Bryant hadn’t been training long enough to fully strengthen those bones, but he did have a fight coming up in three months. He would have to work carefully and strategically to reinforce what his bones could withstand, and maybe he’d learn a new method of training his body, one he could easily employ in the future.
Tavvy hollered at him and waved Bryant over to work with the dummy. “You ever work with one of these?”
Bryant frowned. “No. I’ve seen them in the equipment catalogs, but I’ve never seen one in action. How does it work?”
Tavvy grimaced and looked back at Alice. He knew how the dummy worked, in theory, and in slow motion, he could do an adequate job of demonstrating its usefulness. But Bryant needed to see what the dummy could really do and for that, Tavvy needed Alice to demonstrate. When she looked back at him without moving, still keeping the dark glasses on her face, he waved her over.
Alice knew what Tavvy wanted of her and she was trying to figure out how to demonstrate the way the wing chun dummy worked while still maintaining her secret identity. You can do this. Just a few moves to show him what it will look like when he masters it and Tavvy can take it from there.
Squaring her shoulders, she crossed the gym and motioned for Tavvy and Bryant to step back. She took several deep breaths to center herself and applied all of her concentration to the wooden structure before her.
As she released her third breath, she moved in and began striking and kicking the extended arms of the dummy, using her palm to deflect the opposing arm and landing a series of strikes and punches as she moved from one side of the device to the other.
She bit her lip to keep from releasing the shouts that threatened to burst forth from her lungs. All of her life she had been trained to use her vocal energy to help focus and define her physical reactions, and now, keeping silent was extremely difficult. Not to mention vocal releases helped release tension and helping with the sting that came from striking the wooden appendages.
One minute later, she stepped back after delivering one final blow to the dummy. She was slightly out of breath, but it was nothing she couldn’t cover up for a few more minutes. She turned to see Bryant watching her, a look of awe on his face.
Clapping his hands, Bryant cheered her actions. “I always wondered what those were for. That was great!”
Lowering her voice, she addressed him as she turned to step back. “Now you know. Tavvy will take you through some of the motions slowly. Go gently. I don’t want you too bruised to work out this afternoon.”
“Yes, sir. Those wooden arms look like they might hurt a tad.”
Tavvy chuckled. “They do at that. But they will also build up your tolerance and allow your body to become accustomed to taking strikes in those areas. This will help give you an edge in the ring.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for. I’m not losing this next fight,” he said, his voice trailing off as he moved to the dummy. At the same time Anders tried to step out of his way, and the two ended up colliding, with Bryant using his hands on Alice’s arms to stop from knocking her over.
Alice barely contained her gasp of surprise when she felt Bryant place his hands on her upper arms to steady her and stop her from falling on her backside. She shivered in reaction to his nearness and quickly pulled herself away, muttering a quick “sorry” as she skirted around him and headed to the other side of the gym.
Chapter 8
Bryant released Anders as quickly as he’d grabbed him, confused at his reaction to being near the man. God, what is happening to me? He’s an old man, for gods sake! Wow. I never realized how much difference there might be in muscle tone with an old man. I mean, he’s toned… but his muscles just didn’t feel as big as I thought they would. And I really need to get laid if touching an old man gets me this hard, this quick! And why in the hell am I noticing how he smells?
He watched Anders walk away, struggling to keep from showing how disgusted he was with himself. Shaking his head, he stepped up to the dummy and delivered a sharp strike to the wooden arm closest to him, forgetting he also needed to block the opposing one, receiving a sharp knock on the back of his head for his effort.
Tavvy chuckled and reached out a hand to stop Bryant from getting hit in the face as the arms rotated once again. “Easy, son. We need to start out a little slower and a lot lighter, or you’re going to give yourself a concussion!”
Bryant rubbed the back of his head and nodded, his physical reaction to being near Anders forgotten amid the pain lancing across his skull. God, this thing hurts! How did that old man hit this thing so hard and not come away black and blue?
***
Alice watched Tavvy take Bryant through several more moves before she left the gym and headed back to the main cabin. She was still reeling from the way her body had responded to being so close to his. Her nipples were hardening just thinking about him again and there were butterflies in her stomach causing quite a commotion.
She met Marguerite in the front doorway and removed her sunglasses. Marguerite was peering closely at her. “What happened?”
Alice shook her head. “Why do you think anything happened?” She tried to act normal, but from the look on Marguerite’s face, she was failing dismally.
“You look shocked. What happened in the gym?”
Alice thought about making up a story, but she’d never been any good at lying and she caved under Marguerite’s watchful eye. “Nothing. Bryant and I got in each other’s way for a moment and I almost fell on my butt.”
Marguerite nodded. “But you didn’t. How come?”
“Bryant stopped me from falling by grabbing my arms.”
Marguerite gasped. “Does he know you’re not your father?”
Alice waved a hand. “No. Nothing like that. It’s just that I got this funny feeling when he was touching me. I think maybe I’m coming down with something.”
Marguerite grinned. “Well, it’s about time. I wondered when you’d finally wake up and see all of that fine eye-candy your daddy brings up here.”
“What are you talking about?” Alice asked, following the housekeeper back to the kitchen.
“Girl, you’re twenty-two. You’ve been on exactly three dates since that slimeball fighter you were dating your sophomore year in college.”
“So what, you think I’ve been pining for Scott all these years?” Alice asked incredulously. “Did you forget what happened with him?” She remembered all too well the final time she’d seen Scott Taylor. It hadn’t been fun.
Marguerite sighed. “Alice, I didn’t say that.”
“I know.” Alice pushed out a breath. “It’s just… more complicated than that.”
Marguerite nodded, gently rubbing Alice’s shoulder. “You know you’re like a daughter to me—you can tell me anything.”
“It wasn’t just the street fights. There was more. I didn’t tell you because, well, I hate to make you worry.”
Alice hesitated, glancing at the door. Just tell her. “One weekend he loaded our stuff back into his truck. We ended up at his dad’s cabin about an hour away. As usual he started drinking and then…he accused me of being a stick in the mud and not knowing how to have any fun. So I gave in and had a few drinks with him. T
hen came the touching and the clumsy kissing..”
“I swear to god if he touched you I will kill him!”
“Marg, no! God, no. He began telling me how sweet I was, and how hot I was, and like an idiot I listened to every word he said! He finally convinced me to sleep with him. Bad decision. Sex with Scott lasted a whole three minutes! Thank God he’d remembered protection in his partially drunken state.”
“He’ll need more than protection if I ever see him again!” Margeurite said, rolling up her sleeves and cracking her knuckles.
“Then when we got back, he broke it off with me. Saying he needed to focus on his fighting. And I guess that’s why I never wanted to get involved with any of the eye candy.” Alice gave a giggle.
Scott didn’t even realize the gift he’d been given the night before, nor did I think to mention it—he was completely focused on his own desires.
She promised herself that she would have a healthy attraction to the next boy she slept with. And definitely no fighters.
She’d gone out with three other boys since Scott, but none of them had gotten past second base because she just hadn’t been feeling it. Alice wanted what she’d read about in the romance novels Marguerite lent her from time to time. She wanted to be so consumed with lust that the thought of not being with someone would cause her pain.
Pulling herself back to the present, Alice glanced at Marguerite. “I haven’t been out with anyone because I haven’t found anyone I wanted to spend that much time with. But Bryant is…different.”
Alice was so confused about her feelings with Bryant. She’d read his file, and watched his videos. As she spent more time with him she saw how different he was to Scott. Not only was his body divine, but he was intelligent and appeared to have a good sense of humor. But enough to forgive being trained by a female without his knowledge?
MMA Fighter's Fierce Temptation (The Burton Brothers Series Book 1) Page 3
