As long as Frankie’s happy, I’m happy.
Of course, I want her to eventually get past her aversion to the sport I love, but I love her more. Even if she never makes it to another one of my fights, I’ll be okay with that.
Is it crazy that a cage fighter falls for a nurse with an aversion to violence? Probably.
But that’s us, and I love us.
We’re both more than the things that define us. Frankie understands I’m not the sport and even though I inflict pain, I don’t have ill will toward anyone. I understand that just because she doesn’t come to my fights doesn’t mean she doesn’t support me.
It’s unconventional, but it works.
“Keep your hands up,” Cage yells, sounding like a mad man. We have another fight next week in Memphis and even though I’ve won my last two, he’s not letting up on the training. If anything, he’s working me harder than ever. “Use the decoy!”
As the sweat pours, I give it all I’ve got.
Left hook, right upper, left hook . . . body shot. Right hook . . . body shot. Left hook . . . right . . .
“Switch it up!”
Jab, cross, left hook, high kick.
Vince grunts, letting me know I hit my mark. When Cage calls for us to take a break, we take off our headgear and gloves, tossing them to the floor as Vince lets out a breathless laugh.
“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head. “I feel like you’ve got a chip on your shoulder tonight.”
Cage walks up, handing us two water bottles. “Nah, he’s just trying to impress his girl.” He shoots Frankie a wink and she blushes a little, shaking her head. The fact that she’s still here, even through all of that, makes me happy.
Just sharing this with her feels huge.
“We still on for Genie’s later?” Vince asks, scrubbing his sweaty head with a towel. “Frankie? You in?”
She looks up at me, then back to Vince. I see the slight hesitance, but it’s like she gives herself a mental pep talk and finally answers, “Sounds fun.”
The Frankie I met all those months ago wouldn’t even be sitting here. It’s Friday night and when I met her, she volunteered on Fridays—which she still does—but then she went home alone, never breaking her routine. Now, she comes here with me on Wednesdays and Fridays after she gets home from the shelter. And she says yes to invites to Genie’s.
We still grocery shop together on Tuesday nights, because we want to. It really is the best time to shop the Piggly Wiggly. That’s the day they get their weekly shipments in and the produce is the freshest.
Yeah, I keep up with the produce at the Piggly Wiggly.
I also know that tomorrow, when we go to the farmer’s market, I’m hitting up Mr. Henson’s booth first. Those blueberries go fast. After that, I’m stopping by for Louise Alberti’s fried pies. Then, I’ll go back to Frankie’s booth and keep her company while sneaking in my carbs for the week.
The small town life suits me. Frankie suits me. Actually, she does more than that—she firms up my foundation, giving me something to hold onto that’s more permanent than a career or a sport. No matter what happens, as long as I have her, I’ll be okay. I’ll be better than okay; I’ll be the luckiest man in the world.
“I’m going to head home to shower,” Vince calls out. “Meet y’all at Genie’s in an hour?”
“We’ll be there,” I tell him, picking up my gloves and hanging them on the hook by the mirrors. “I’m heading up to shower. You staying down here, or you wanna come up?”
Frankie pushes herself up, walking over to me. “When are you going to move in with me?”
I smirk, pulling her hips forward until she’s flush with my body. I wiped down with a towel, so I shouldn’t get her too sweaty, at least not right now. “I told you,” I say, leaning forward and brushing my lips against hers. “We’ve gotta go on at least twelve dates, and trips to the Piggly Wiggly and Saturdays at the farmer’s market don’t count.”
“That’s not fair,” she argues, jutting her chin out. I love this side of Frankie—stubborn, bullheaded, and sexy as hell. “You know I work Saturday through Tuesday, volunteer on Wednesdays and Fridays and then come here. It’s hard squeezing in real dates. And you don’t make it any easier with your schedule and trips.”
Breathing her in, I pull her hips even closer, wishing we were alone and not in a public place. But fuck if I don’t owe Cage months of this shit. The way he and Tempest go at it all the time, I’ll never be able to get full retribution. But I don’t mind trying.
When my hands travel to her ass, she wiggles out of my embrace, only making things . . . harder.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I tell her, trapping her with my arms, nuzzling my nose in her neck and eliciting a giggle from her.
“What?” she asks, pressing her hands to my chest. Instead of pushing me away, she grabs two fistfuls of my t-shirt, holding me close.
I kiss her neck and feel her body shiver beneath my touch. “Dance with me tonight at Genie’s, and we’ll count this as two.”
“Which makes twelve.” She grows still, her hands still holding onto my shirt.
What she doesn’t know is I’d started packing my shit two weeks ago and had every intention of moving in with her over the weekend Sweetening the deal with a dance at Genie’s tonight was a last-minute game call that totally panned out for me. “I’ll move in tomorrow after the farmer’s market.”
When Frankie read my roommate available ad in the paper, she called me immediately asking me why I was looking for a roommate. She’d almost sounded hurt. I didn’t think she’d be ready to make a huge step like that, but I was wrong.
She wanted me to move in that day, but I didn’t want to move too fast. Frankie and I have had plenty of setbacks and we’re in a good place right now. I didn’t want to mess it up. But I’m ready, and if she’s ready, then I don’t see any reason to wait. I want to see her every morning when we wake up. When she comes home late at night, I want to be there waiting for her.
“How do you feel about adding daily orgasms to your schedule?” I ask, smirking as she fights back a smile. When she shoves lightly at my chest, I begin walking backward into the bathroom, arms raised in surrender as my eyes devour her. I want her today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Moving in with her is the next natural step.
“I can do that,” she whispers.
That’s what I thought.
After I shower and dress, Frankie and I head out, meeting Vince, Cage, Tempest, and Vali at Genie’s. Vince picked out a booth in the back and already had ordered a round of beers before we got there.
Tempest and Frankie slide in next to each other, sharing a quiet hello and a few words I can’t hear, but I don’t need to. I like the friendship the two of them have started to form. Tempest is a great friend for Frankie, but more than that, I’m so happy that someone else gets to appreciate how great Frankie is.
When a slow song comes on, I slide out of the booth, grabbing Frankie’s hand and pulling her out on the dance floor with me.
“I’m not good,” she says, giving my hand a little tension.
Turning to face her, I continue to walk backward, still pulling her with me. “You’re perfect.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Just follow my lead,” I tell her, wrapping one arm around her waist and bringing our joined hands up to my chest. “I won’t let you fall.”
She tilts her chin up, those intense eyes boring into mine. “I know.”
“Ever danced at a bar before?” I ask, loving every first I’m able to claim of Frankie’s.
“No,” she says, turning her cheek to my chest and resting it there. “I’ve never even danced with anyone.”
“Not even in high school?”
She lifts her head, giving me a look. “Not even in high school.”
I hold her even tighter, hoping to fill up any cracks or lingering hurts, anything to make Frankie a better version of herself. As much as I want to erase her past, I realize it
’s what made her who she is today, and I love that person—scars and all.
Epilogue
Frankie
I’ve always known Tennessee is a beautiful state, but I’m finally realizing just how amazing it really is. The multiple shades of green in the trees, the bright blue sky, and, my favorite—the wildflowers—come together to create the most incredible scenery. I hate feeling like I’ve taken it for granted all these years.
Now that I’ve fought the demons of my past and survived, it’s as though the fog I didn’t realize I was living in has faded away, leaving brightness and clarity in its wake. I smell things differently now and my food tastes better, like all my senses are turned up to one hundred percent.
And then there’s my sense of touch.
Everything I come into contact with is intense, especially when it comes to Gunnar. Hugs, caresses, tickles, kisses . . . everything is overwhelming, but only in the best of ways. I swear, I feel like a walking orgasm half the time.
Even though I wasn’t near-death a few months ago, I feel like I’ve been given a new lease on life. It’s as if I’m finally living my life, and I owe a lot of that to Gunnar. I’d like to think I would’ve eventually learned of my past and sought help even if I wasn’t with him, but it wouldn’t have been as satisfying. Being in therapy and doing the homework I’m given is much easier to get through with his support.
Just like now, as we drive to my mother’s home.
Unlike a few months ago, I don’t look in the rearview once. The Iron Wraiths are no longer a worry. Outside of the night Crow found me and told me about Razor, they’ve held up their end of the bargain and kept their distance. When I told Gunnar the entire story, he wanted to track them down and make them pay for stringing me along for the past couple of years. But I wouldn’t let him. I refuse to let Razor Dennings mess up anyone else’s life, especially Gunnar’s.
He has too much going for him. Now that I know all there is to know about mixed martial arts and the UFC, I know he could get in big trouble for fighting outside the ring. I also know he’d risk something like that for me, but I don’t need him to fight my battles.
Besides, Razor is behind bars for life.
One of these days, I might dig a little deeper into who he was and explore the possibility of finding my siblings. But for now, I’m happy with my life and the family I have.
About a month after my mother shed light on my hidden memories, I made the decision to forgive her. We talked, we cried, and then we decided to move on—together. We both know she hasn’t always been an ideal mother, but I understand she did the best she could, given the circumstances, and that’s good enough for me. I can’t change the past, but it’s up to me how I live the rest of my life.
Our relationship never has been and never will be perfect, but I decided I’d much rather have her in my life than not.
Things are still strained at times and I wish my mom would speak with Samantha or find a therapist of her own, but that needs to be her decision. She’s slowly coming out of her shell, though, and she’s starting to branch out more with what she creates and sells at the farmer’s market, which is why we’re here.
“Come in.” She greets us from her porch with a smile, motioning for us to hurry inside. “You have to try my new jams.”
Gunnar and I hide our grimaces from her, but not from each other. We’ve both tasted some not-so-great concoctions over the last few weeks, so we’re not very eager to try anything else. But we do, of course.
As soon as we step inside the kitchen, my mother shoves two spoons at us with a healthy scoop of jam in them.
I tentatively taste, offering myself up as a guinea pig to save Gunnar from unnecessary harm, and am pleasantly surprised with the flavor, so I finish off what’s left on the spoon. Gunnar follows suit and gives a nod of approval. The raspberry flavor is delicious, but there’s something else I can’t put a name to. “Wow, Mom, that’s really good. It’s different and has a nice kick to it. What did you add to it? Jalapenos?”
“No, Moscato!” she answers, clearly proud of herself.
“You made boozy jam?” Gunnar asks, cackling. “That’s awesome, Miss C.” I’m dumbstruck as I watch him high-five my mother. Not only has he swept me off my feet and made me want things I’d never dreamed possible, but he’s breaking down my mom’s walls too.
“Do you think they’ll sell? I really think they’d be a hit with the local ladies who brunch. Maybe I can go with you next week and help sell them, depending on how this week’s market goes.”
I’m obviously not the only one who’s been changing for the better around here.
“That’d be great, Mom,” I say, encouragingly. She’s suggested joining us a few times lately but it hasn’t happened yet. I’m just thrilled she’s even considering it, and I’m hopeful that one day she’ll follow through.
Gunnar takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze. “Want to take a walk with me before we load up?”
“Sure.” I smile at him, wondering what he’s up to. “Mom, we’re gonna go for a walk but we won’t be gone too long.”
“That’s fine, dear. Have fun.” Paying us no mind, except for the small, content smile on her face, she goes about ladling her new creation into jars.
Gunnar takes my hand again, interlocking our fingers, as we begin our walk. My mother’s property is quite large and the grass needs to be cleared soon, but it’s also very peaceful. I haven’t mentioned anything to Gunnar, but I could see us building our own home out here one of these days.
We walk in silence for a few minutes before stopping at my favorite spot. It has a few large trees that provide a wonderful shade to sit in while looking out at the nearby pond.
“I love it here,” I say for no real reason.
“I know you do. That’s why this is the perfect place.”
“The perfect place for what?”
“The perfect place to fall.” He gives me my favorite smile of his, the one that makes his eyes sparkle the most. It’s also the one he gives only to me.
“I hate to break it to you, Beefcake, but I’ve already fallen for you.” I slip my arms around him and pull our bodies together.
“Frankie, I want you to do the Trust Fall with me.”
“What? Why?” The Trust Fall is the only homework assignment from Samantha I haven’t completed. Not because I don’t want to, but because I think it’s silly at this point. I know I can trust Gunnar, and I do. I trust him with my whole heart, so why he thinks we need to do this is beyond me.
“It’s important to me, and it should be to you, too. It’s the last step and you refuse to do it because you think it’s silly. I’ve done research of my own, you know, and it has its merits. I mean, why not do it? It could be fun. You never know.”
His eyes catch on my collarbone and I automatically know what he’s looking at. A scar. I used to be ashamed of them, afraid of what they could represent. Being with Gunnar, though, has helped me embrace them rather than hide them. They’re a part of me. They help make me who I am, and I like who I am.
I watch Gunnar lick his lips before leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on top of the puckered flesh. Every time he sees a scar he kisses it. Or touches it, almost reverently. He wants them to represent only good things, he’s told me before, and what’s better than his kisses? I can only think of one thing and if he keeps putting his mouth on my skin like he’s doing right now, I’m going to make him take me right here, right now.
“Gunnar,” I whisper.
“Fall for me. I want to catch you.”
It’s in this moment I realize he wants to do the test, not just for me, but for him, as well. He wants it for us and I can’t find it in me to deny him. “Okay.”
There’s that smile again.
“Okay, turn around and take a couple of steps forward. I’m right behind you. Whenever you’re ready, I’m right here,” he assures me.
I might trust Gunnar with all my heart but that doesn’t keep me from wo
rrying about the fall. It’s not that I think he won’t catch me, it’s more about me worrying that I’ll fall and hurt myself. Or him. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Gunnar. I know it sounds silly and juvenile, but it’s how I feel.
“Come on, baby. You can do it.”
“Alright,” I hesitate for a few more seconds, taking a deep breath. When I let it out slowly, I push out every negative thought with it.
I can do this.
I can do this for me.
I can do this for us.
Closing my eyes, I focus on the sun warming my skin, the water splashing in the nearby pond, and the birds chirping in the trees. With fear far from my mind, I’m completely at peace.
So, I fall.
Being caught by Gunnar Erickson is the best feeling in the world—exhilarating, scary, safe, warm, and a lot like something I want to do forever.
Acknowledgments
A common theme in our books is family and that’s because we value ours immensely. Sometimes, it’s the family you’re born into and other times, it’s the one you make for yourself. We consider ourselves lucky to have both. To our children, who are more like adults these days, thank you for being understanding when we’re locked away in the writing cave for days and weeks. Sometimes it feels like our houses are going to grow legs and run away from us. So, thanks for holding down the fort and living off ramen and pizza.
We have an amazing support group.
Pamela Stephenson is always there from the beginning, watching and reading as the story takes shape. Her cheerleading skills are second to none. Thanks for being you, Pamela!!
We’d also like to thank Nikki, our editor. Thank you for always approaching each new story with an insightful eye. You teach us things along the way, and we’d like to think we’re better writers because of you. Here’s to a dozen more books!
For these Smartypants Romance (SPR) books we’ve found a couple new people to add to our arsenal of amazingness. Heather, our alpha reader. Thank you for your wonderfully insightful feedback.
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