Stud Muffin

by Smartypants Romance

  Ready to take a break and change the subject, I hold my gloves up to my brother and nod my head, silently asking him to untie them for me. “Did you know Gunnar is thinking about coming to stay with me and train in a few months?”

  My youngest brother and I have been talking a lot this week about his future in the ring. He’s excited to take his training to the next level, but I know he’s been avoiding telling Viggo. Being the oldest of us Erickson boys, Viggo feels like he’s in charge and he doesn’t always welcome change, unless it’s approved by him. Hence, his unhappiness with my early retirement.

  It’s not that he doesn’t understand my injury or the fact that I refuse to fight under anything less than the best conditions, but he wanted a say so in the path my life took after the ring.

  He’s always had a vision of the five of us living close to each other and working together forever, but life doesn’t always turn out the way we plan. It’s a great vision, don’t get me wrong. And I love my brother and don’t want to crush his dreams, but Dallas isn’t for me.

  At least, not right now.

  “I had a feeling this was coming,” Viggo says, tossing my gloves to the side. “And I knew he wouldn’t have the balls to tell me himself.”

  “He looks up to you, man,” I tell him as I stretch out my bad shoulder. “He doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “The only way he’ll ever disappoint me is if he doesn’t work his ass off to achieve his goals. He’s got the talent and it’d be a shame if he pissed it away.”

  I look at my brother, trying to gauge whether or not that was meant to be a sly jab at me and my situation, but I see nothing but honesty on his face. Maybe we’re all growing up a little.

  Miracles never cease to exist.

  We walk over to a bench where I left my towel and water bottle, and I make great use of both while Viggo updates me on the latest gym gossip. There really isn’t a difference between big cities and small towns when it comes to this kind of shit, but I keep quiet and let my brother continue his story.

  “So, what’s the pussy like in Green Valley?”

  Nearly choking on my water, I take a quick glance around us to make sure no one heard him.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you ask me that, especially in our place of business?”

  Viggo huffs, rolling his eyes. “Get your fucking panties out of a twist, would ya? We teach fighting here, not etiquette. No one’s offended by my mention of pussy but you, which makes me think you’ve found yourself a girl… or at least a steady lay.”

  I don’t answer. I don’t even look at him because I don’t know if I can have a conversation about Tempest with him. He’s never been in a serious relationship. He’s definitely never been in love. If I tell him what’s been going on between Tempest and me, he’ll just tell me to get over it and move on, and that’s not what I want to hear right now.

  “Come on, man. You can talk to me. I know you say you really like being in Tennessee, but my gut tells me it’s not working at the strip club that’s making you want to move there permanently. I mean, I’d totally understand if that was it, but I know you. There’s gotta be something or someone, so spill it.”

  Fuck it.

  I toss my towel onto the bench and sit down. When he sits by me, giving me his full attention, I tell him everything. I tell him about how I met Tempest and a little bit about her history and how that lead to her taking lessons from me. Then, I tell him about how my feelings started changing for her and how the last couple of weeks were between us. Lastly, I tell him about Tempest freaking out, leaving me completely dumbfounded. After I’ve said everything I want to say, I take a breath and brace myself for his response.

  “So, you’re gonna go back and prove her wrong, right?”

  That’s not what I was expecting him to say.

  “I haven’t decided yet, to be honest.”

  “Bullshit. If that were the case, you wouldn’t be selling your house here.”

  Okay, so he has a point.

  “I’m going back because I have plans I want to see completed, but I don’t know if those plans include Tempest. I’m not sure she’s ready and I don’t want to push her. She’s been through a lot.”

  Her words ring in my ear like a fucking gong—just a rebound. I don’t believe that. I don’t want to believe it. I think she’s scared so, maybe, I need to go back and demand she give us a shot, which makes me laugh. Me demanding anything from Tempest, outside of the bedroom, that is, would only result in her kicking my ass. I’d gladly let her.

  An ass kicking from her would mean she’s near me, and as masochistic as it sounds, I’d rather be close to her, taking whatever she wants to give me—even an ass kicking—than to be without her.

  “I’ve never seen you this worked up over a girl before. Not even with what’s-her-name. She must be really special.”

  I smile at my brother. “She is. She’s fucking amazing and I’m crazy about her.”

  “Well, sounds like you need to grow a pair and go get your girl.”

  Ah, there’s that brotherly advice I was waiting for.

  Walking into the arena the night of the big fight has me feeling on edge. This is the first time I’ve even been near a ring in a year and I’m nervous. I mean, I’m not fighting, so I don’t have to worry about that, but this is my first bout to attend since my injury and I don’t know what to expect.

  I wouldn’t miss it, though.

  Vali has worked hard and has a lot riding on tonight. I still feel a little bad about not being able to fight, knowing that had been his plan all along—to get me back in the ring. But I’m proud of him for all he’s accomplished and I want to be here to support him.

  “Hey, there you are!” Speak of the devil. Vali walks up, looking sick as fuck in a black suit and tie, something a mob boss would wear.

  “You going to a funeral?” I tease.

  “You stepping in the ring?” he shoots back, a gleam in his eye. “All you’d have to do is smile and wave. And, maybe, take your shirt off.”

  When I go to punch him, he laughs, pulling me into a hug. I respond with a very enthusiastic smack to the back of his head. “Watch the hair, jackass!” This makes me laugh, so I give him a genuine hug in return.

  He’s a persistent little shit, but I still love the guy.

  “You’ve really outdone yourself tonight, Val. I’m proud of you.”

  He tries to play off my praise, but the way the tips of his ears turn red, I know my comment means a lot to him, even if he’s a little embarrassed. But hey, isn’t that what big brothers are for?

  “I mean it,” I assure him. “When I open my studio in Green Valley, you’ll have to come out and plan something.”

  “I’m not a party planner, Cage. I’m a promoter.”

  “I know that. You can come out and promote the studio. It’ll be great, you’ll see.”

  The more I talk about running my own studio full-time, the more excited I get. I wasn’t even sure it was what I wanted to do until I came here and saw how well the family studio is doing. Mine will be different though. Not as big or as flashy, but I’m hoping it’ll be something the people of Green Valley and the surrounding areas need.

  Now, that my house here in Dallas is officially on the market, I can think about moving to Green Valley permanently. My realtor assured me the house would sell quickly, but I know he can’t really make that kind of promise. Still, the quicker it sells, the quicker I can finish fixing up the space and have a grand opening.

  And I’ll need more clientele. As much as I’ve loved training Tempest, being paid in muffins won’t get me to where I want to be.

  As I walk around, I smile and nod at the people I pass, remembering I’m here to make the family look good. A few of the guys I see stop and chat for a bit while even more people ask to take a photo with me. I haven’t been in this kind of situation in so long, I’d almost forgotten what it was like.

  I’ll admit, it’s not my favorite par
t of the business, but being seen is necessary when you’re building any kind of brand. The Erickson brand just so happens to have been built around my face. So, it’s vital for me to make this appearance, smile and play the part.

  And even though I’ll be back in Green Valley soon, I don’t plan on abandoning my role. My family has always been a top priority and that won’t change, even if my zip code does.

  “Hey, Cage,” a familiar looking blonde says, smiling as she walks up with a friend. “Good to see you around… we’ve been wondering where you took off to.”

  “Ladies,” I say, dipping my chin in greeting. A year ago, I might’ve taken advantage of a situation like this, invited them to sit in the box with me and my brothers, showed them a good time. But that was before Tempest… before she showed up at the Pink Pony and reeled me in without ever even saying a word.

  “Will you be here all night?” the brunette asks, handing me a card. “We’ve got a great party planned for after the fights, and we’d love to have you make an appearance.”

  I said I’d be at the fight, and I’m here, but that’s where it ends.

  Smiling politely, I shake my head. “Sorry, I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

  “You sure?” the blonde one asks, stepping closer and running a finger down my shirt.

  Taking her hand, I pull it away from me and place it back in her space. “Thanks, but no thanks.” Turning, I walk away as quickly as possible, looking for any of my brothers to use as a decoy.

  I’m off the market, ladies, but have you met Viggo… or Val… Ozzi?

  Not Gunnar, because I plan on keeping his ass very busy for the foreseeable future.

  A funny thought hits me as I walk up the steps toward the box I’ll be sitting at during the fight.

  What would Tempest say to all of this?

  I’ve thought about her a dozen times since I arrived… hundreds since I’ve been back in Dallas. Would she think this is all ridiculous? She seemed pretty intrigued the night we were at the restaurant and the guy approached me. Would she be jealous about the women? Does it make me a sick fuck to hope that she would be?

  There’s just no telling with her. She’s constantly surprising me. And I love that about her… along with a million other things.

  I’m halfway up the steps when my phone buzzes in my pocket, but when I look at my screen, I don’t recognize the number. It’s a Green Valley area code, but it’s not Hank. It could be someone at the club, Floyd or one of the workers. Swiping my thumb across the screen, I place the phone to my ear, “Hello?”

  “Hi.”

  One word… that’s all it takes.

  My heart jumps up into my throat and for a second, I can’t speak. Does she have ESP? Did she know I was just thinking about her? Then, my instincts kick in. “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

  If Asher or Mindy have done anything to harass her or make her life miserable… so help me God. They do not want to mess with what is mine.

  “No,” she says in a rush. “I’m… I’m fine.”

  Lie.

  Tempest rarely lies to me, but I know it when I hear it. And just like the night she told me I’m a rebound… basically writing me off for good… I heard it then and I’m hearing it now. “Can you hold on for a second?” I ask, turning toward one of the exits and quickly making my way to it. “I’m going to go outside so I can hear you better. Don’t hang up.”

  “Okay.”

  Her response is direct and not the usual way she speaks to me, but maybe she’s just nervous.

  I know I sure as hell am—sweaty palms, heart pounding.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Once I’m outside the building and away from everyone, I take a deep breath. “I’m here.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Dallas,” I tell her, looking around at the parking lot that’s quickly filling up and feeling a million miles away from Green Valley… and her. At this point, they could be on a different planet. “My family is hosting a bout… and it’s kind of big deal, so I’m here to lend a hand.”

  “You left.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. And it sounds like she accusing me of something, but I’m not sure what. She sounds pissed. What does she have to be angry about?

  “I did, yes.”

  She lets out a frustrated grunt before continuing. “You left without saying anything and I didn’t know how to find you.”

  If I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of panic to her voice and even though I shouldn’t, I’d love nothing more than to reach through this phone and pull her to me.

  “You told me you didn’t want to see me anymore,” I tell her, feeling the weight of her words as I pinch the bridge of my nose to gain a little composure. “Why would I tell you I was going to Dallas?” Now, I’m getting pissed. “You’re kind of giving me whiplash, Tempest. One second, we’re just friends… the next second, you want me… and then you tell me I’m off the hook and I shouldn't follow you. What am I supposed to do?”

  This is not how I wanted this conversation to go.

  “I don’t know!” She sounds just as confused as I’m feeling, which does little to calm me. “I… I looked for you,” she stutters. “But the studio was empty and so was your apartment. I even went to the Pink Pony, but Floyd said you had the week off. And I couldn’t fucking remember your goddamn phone number!” She’s yelling at this point and I don’t know what to do or say, so we sit in silence, both of us breathing heavy from frustration.

  “I know I shouldn’t be angry,” she finally says, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “But I can’t help it.” Her words break on that last note and I feel it all the way down to my toes—hurt.

  I rub my free hand up and down my face, willing myself to calm down before I speak again. “What do you want, Tempest?”

  She doesn’t say anything for what feels like ages and I know this is a struggle for her. She wants to speak her mind, but she’s afraid to do so. I loved helping her before, back when our relationship wasn’t so damn complicated, but I’m not bailing her out this time. She can say exactly what she wants to say to me or she can hang up. If she wants to be on her own, then that’s what she’ll get from me.

  I’m done playing games.

  Finally, she finds her voice. “I want to apologize,” she begins, sounding more certain than a few seconds ago. “I need you to know I’m sorry for all the awful things I said to you. I was just angry and hurt… and so confused.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “I want us to be friends again. Actually, I want us to be more than that but, if you don’t want that anymore, can we at least go back to being friends? I miss you and I need you in my life, Cage.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Why did she have to call and tell me these things? Why couldn’t she wait until we were face to face again? I don’t want to have this conversation here, like this. Going against every instinct in my body—fighting the part of me that wants to hop in my car and not stop until my feet are on Tennessee soil—I reply, “I can’t talk about this right now, Tempest.” Pausing while I swallow down the bile that’s in my throat, practically choking on my own words, I manage to say, “I’ll call you when I get back to Green Valley.”

  And I hang up.

  Chapter 31

  Tempest

  “I Fall to Pieces?” Jenn asks, walking into the kitchen with the Muffin of the Day message board in her hand. “I thought we were past this.”

  Sighing, I let my head drop. “I’m sorry,” I groan. “I can’t help the way I feel, though. And you know my muffins are always inspired by what’s happening in my life. It’s not my fault that I’m in a constant state of turmoil these days.”

  Jenn just looks at me—one hand holding the board, one hand on her hip. “This is the last day,” she huffs. “Do you hear me? Tomorrow, there better be some happiness on this board, so help me…”

  “Tomorrow,” I tell her, wiping my hands on my apron and walking around the counter. “I promise. I�
��ll think of something and it will be sunshine and fucking rainbows.”

  Her pointed stare burns through me. “It better. This is Donner Bakery—Home of the Banana Cake Queen. People come here expecting to leave feeling good. Carbs… sugar… happiness. If you keep this up, we’re going to have to get our liquor license and I just don’t have time for one more thing on my plate.”

  Releasing a breath as she walks out, I press a hand to my forehead.

  “Get it together, Tempest… you’re better than this… stronger.”

  After a brief self-help talk, I decide to make myself useful while the muffins are baking and take out the trash. We might be royalty around here, but that doesn’t excuse us from menial tasks.

  Dumping my bowl, I keep on the counter for all the baking refuse—egg shells, empty wrappers from chocolate, banana peelings, etc.—I tie the bag up and make my way to the back door. It’s still dark outside, not even six o’clock in the morning, but I feel like it’s midday. Ever since my fight with Cage, I’ve started coming in super early, earlier than usual—two o’clock… three—which makes for a long day. But I’d rather make myself useful instead of lying in bed, trying to solve problems I don’t have the answer to.

  Why did Cage hang up on me?

  When is he coming home?

  What will he say once he gets here?

  Do I have a chance to make things right between us?

  I rub at my chest as I make my way over to the dumpster. “God, I hope so,” I mutter, heaving the heavy bag over the edge. Before heading back inside, I take a minute to breathe deeply, assuring myself that whether or not I make things right with Cage, I’m going to be alright. He helped me see that and it’s something I’ll always be grateful for. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss him or that I don’t want him back… but I’ll survive.

  When I get back inside, I continue with the muffin making until every tray is full of my go-to recipes lately—I Fall to Pieces, Crazy, and Going Through the Big D. But I also made a last-minute addition of I Will Survive—an espresso and chocolate masterpiece—and my new favorite, I Will Always Love You—a lemon blueberry with buttercream drizzle… it reminds me of Cage. Lemon for his blond hair and blueberry for his eyes… even though his eyes are blue, blue… like a glacier-fed lake.