by Lane Hart
“Yes, it is. Most MMA fighters hit their prime in their twenties. I’m almost thirty!”
“You won’t be thirty for two years. And you’re not most MMA fighters. You come from a family of champions. It’s in your blood and why you were built supersized compared to normal men.”
“So, I’m supposed to what, throw seven years of working my ass off in school into the garbage to let people beat the shit out of me?”
“If you’re not happy, then yes,” Cass tells me.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Sure, it is. You just have to be willing to take the chance.”
“I can’t,” I reply.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“You’re a pain in the ass,” I say when I jerk the pillow out of her hands to whap her on the top of her head with it. “This week was supposed to be about relaxing and catching up, not making me second-guess every decision I’ve made for myself.”
“Sorry,” she says as she reaches up to run her fingers through her hair to smooth it out and redo her ponytail after I ruffled in. “But I care about you and want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy, even if that means hanging up the stiff suits for a while and breaking out the tight undies again.”
That gets a grin out of me.
“It doesn’t have to be forever. You could go back to practicing law after you give fighting a shot,” Cass suggests.
“Everyone would think I’ve lost my mind if I quit my job to start training for one of the bloodiest sports in the world.”
“Who cares what everyone thinks?” she asks. “Everyone, especially my parents, thought I was insane when I told them I wanted to start my own business at eighteen. I did it anyway because it was what I wanted. It wasn’t to make anyone else happy. And now I’m successful enough to buy a house with no mortgage and even open up a second location if I want.”
“Really? That’s awesome, Cass. I’m so damn proud of you,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” she says with a shy smile. “It’s nice to know I did one thing right. Now, if I could just figure out dating.”
“Dating?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she replies. “Finding a husband and popping out a few kids by the time I’m in my thirties. Why do you think I bought a house with four bedrooms?”
“Oh,” I mutter since I didn’t even consider that. “Are you dating many guys?”
“A few,” she says. “None serious, just playing the field.”
“How many is a few?” I ask.
“Just two.”
“Just two?” I exclaim. “Why haven’t you told me you were dating two men before now?”
“Because I’m pretty bad at it. You should see me when they show up to pick me up and take me out. It’s like being sixteen all over again with the awkwardness. I either talk too much or not enough or drip tomato sauce all over my blouse. It’s all pretty pathetic.”
“I bet your dates don’t even notice,” I say.
“Maybe not because they both ask to come inside when they drop me off.”
“Come inside?” I repeat, wondering if she means that in the literal sense.
“Yeah, but it’s just sex. They know about each other, and I’m sure they’re dating other women too.”
“So you’re sleeping with two men?” I ask in disbelief. In my mind, I think I knew Cass probably wasn’t a virgin, even though she never talked to me about guys she was seeing, but I liked to pretend she was innocent, for some reason.
“I’m not sleeping with them at the same time,” she answers with a grin.
“Jesus Christ, Cass,” I mutter once she puts that image in my head.
“What?” she huffs. “I bet you’ve slept with more than two women in the past week!”
“Are you calling me a whore?” I ask with mock indignation.
“Yes, Xavier. You are a manwhore, and everyone in town knows it!”
“Only after Camilla and I ended things,” I remark.
“And before you met her,” Cass adds.
“Right.”
“Anyway, it’s getting late,” she says when she gets to her feet and stretches her arms over her head, causing her tiny t-shirt to reveal her flat midriff. “You ready for bed?” she asks.
I start to say yes, but then realize she’s not inviting me to hers where she’s been sleeping with not one but two guys. My mind is blown. Good little girl Cass is all grown up. I should be happy for her, but I’m not.
“Ah, I’m not tired yet. Still on Seattle time,” I respond. “Mind if I stay up and watch television a little longer?”
“Help yourself,” she says as she walks over to the stairs.
She’s halfway up when I blurt out the question racking my brain. “Hey, Bambi?”
“Yeah?” she asks, pausing with her hand on the stair rail.
“Are those guys…will they be coming over this week?”
“Maybe,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. “But don’t worry. It will only be at night if so, not during the day when we have plans.”
“Wow,” I mutter since having them over at night is so much worse.
“And Mike is taking me to the reunion.”
“Oh?” I ask. “I thought we were, you know, going together.”
“That would have been easier,” Cass agrees. “But you didn’t decide you were coming until about two weeks ago, and I had already asked Mike.”
“How long have you and him been…”
“Seeing each other?” she offers, which sounds nicer than fucking.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve been seeing Mike for a month or two I guess, and Eddie for a few weeks.”
“Mike on his own wasn’t enough?” I ask.
“He didn’t seem interested in a commitment, and Eddie asked me out, so…”
“So you’re doing them both. Gotcha.”
“Don’t get all big brother judgy with me,” Cass warns through narrowed eyes. “Especially when you’re the biggest player I’ve ever met!”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” I tell her honestly. Well, partially honest. The truth is, I’m…jealous.
“I won’t,” she says. “I’m a big girl, and I’m not letting my heart get involved.”
“Good. That’s good,” I reply.
“Night, Xavier.”
“Goodnight,” I say as she disappears, unknowingly leaving me sitting in her living room with a stiff cock trying to punch its way out of my pants leg.
I try to tell myself it’s nothing but my competitive spirit. My cock loves a challenge and conquering unchartered waters.
If Cass is screwing around with two guys, then she’s clearly not getting what she needs from them in or out of the bedroom.
My erection is proudly standing at attention, ready and willing to report for duty. I want to take a shot at being all she needs, fulfilling her every fantasy and blowing her mind.
God, I’m a horrible person.
And it’s all Camilla’s fault that I feel the need to screw my gorgeous best friend to try and boost my own damn ego.
Chapter Four
Cassidy
“Morning, sleepy head!” I say to Xavier from the open doorway of the guest bedroom. And holy crap, he’s even sexier when he’s sleeping. His raven hair is in the shape of a mohawk from where it’s been pressed to the pillow on each side. While I like his clean-shaven face, the morning stubble makes him look less like the smart, sophisticated lawyer he is and more like a rugged, badass fighter. And then there’s his thick bare arms wrapped around a pillow in a chokehold, causing his bowling ball sized biceps to flex.
“Mmm,” he finally murmurs. “What time is it?” That deeper, gravelly voice is rougher than sandpaper and ups the hotness factor even more.
“Eleven,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning a shoulder against the door frame to enjoy the view while I wait for him to get his lazy butt up. “And, sorry, but I didn’t take off a week from work to sleep the whole time you�
��re here. It’s a beautiful day! We should be outside enjoying it!”
“Jesus Christ, I forgot you were a peppy morning person,” he grumbles when he rolls to his back.
“There’s coffee and a – whoa!” I exclaim when an enormous teepee suddenly pops up in the middle of the bedsheets.
“Sorry,” Xavier says when he slaps his hand over his erection and makes it disappear. Like a game of Whac-A-Mole, I keep watching to see if it will pop up somewhere else in bed, but sadly, it does not. “You’re not the only one who is frisky in the mornings.”
“Obviously,” I say as I spin around with my back to him. “There’s, ah, coffee and cereal downstairs. Or we could grab breakfast on the way to the lake.”
“Needwood?” Xavier asks.
“Huh?” I reply.
“We going to Lake Needwood?”
“Oh, right. The name of the lake,” I say in understanding. “Yeah, that’s where my boat is docked. I thought we could do some fishing maybe?”
“Sounds good,” he replies. “You got any Cheerios?”
“Yep,” I answer with a smile because they were always his favorite, which is why I bought them at the grocery store last week. “I also have skim milk for you even though you may as well use water. It would probably taste better.”
“Thanks,” Xavier says with a gruff chuckle. “I’ll grab a quick shower and head downstairs.”
“Okay,” I agree. “There are plenty of towels and washcloths in the spare bath. And an extra toothbrush in case you forgot yours, along with that rich boy shampoo, body wash, and deodorant you always liked.”
“Tom Ford?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“Wow, Cass. You’re the best.”
“No problem,” I respond since I love the masculine scent of smoked wood and the sea even though it never smells as good as it does on Xavier. “It’s not like I bought it just for you or anything. Mike and Eddie sometimes shower here too in the mornings when they stay over. Not that they stay over on the same night, but you know what I mean. Besides, after this week I may not see you again for another ten years, maybe at our twenty-year reunion…” My rambling comes to a stop when I feel a tug on both sides of my hair.
“The braids are cute,” Xavier says from behind me, having snuck out of bed while I was talking. “They remind me of the first day we met.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
He gives my braids another tug. “And it won’t be another ten years before I come back to visit.”
“Can I please get that in writing, counselor?” I tease when I look at him over my shoulder where he’s hovering over me like a shirtless, blurry-eyed Adonis. “You’ll, ah, be legally obligated to honor any agreement that you sign, right?”
“Camilla was always in a hurry to get home when we came to see my family for holidays,” he says, and I hate the reminder of the evil witch he married. “Now that I’m not legally obligated to try and make her happy, I’ll stay for however fucking long I want.”
“Until you have to get back to the office,” I remind him.
“Ugh,” he huffs. “Until I have to get back to the office.”
“Unless you quit so you can train…” I trail off.
“Not gonna happen. That ship has sailed,” he responds.
I turn around to face him before I get a crick in my neck. “Or the ship’s just been gone on a long journey and finally returned to offer you a second chance.”
“I can’t!” he says with a scowl that I know is full of regret.
“At least talk to Macy or your dad about it while you’re home to see if they think it’s a crazy idea or not.”
“No way,” Xavier huffs, running his fingers through his black, tussled hair. “If I even mention me and fighting in the same sentence, my dad’s face will light up like it’s fucking Christmas, because he’s always wanted me and Macy to follow in his footsteps. And if I tell Macy, she’ll tell our parents, so no.”
“Well, there has to be someone you can talk to? Maybe a coach at Havoc?” I suggest. God, I wish the stubborn bastard would just admit he hates being in law and just go after what he knows in his heart he wants. Not to mention that if Xavier does quit his job to fight, there’s a chance he would move back home, maybe permanently to train with his family.
“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” he asks me through narrowed eyes.
“Not after what you said last night about your dying wish. That’s what friends are for! And time is running out. It’s not too late now, but it could be soon since you’re not getting any younger. So why waste another day of your life doing something that doesn’t make you happy?”
His face finally softens, and he mutters, “Why do I let you boss me around when I’ve always been twice your size?”
“Because you love me and you know I’m always right,” I respond with a triumphant grin. Xavier is the most indecisive person I’ve ever met. He always needs a little push in the right direction.
“That’s unfortunately true,” he says with a chuckle. “Even though it’s really fucking annoying sometimes.”
“So? You’re going to give fighting a shot?” I ask, bracing my hands on his hard shoulders. Jeez, his skin is so warm and smooth.
“I’ll go to Havoc and try to talk to Coach Briggs. That’s all I’m agreeing to.”
“Fair enough,” I agree, knowing that once Xavier walks back into that gym he grew up in, he’ll know it’s what he still wants deep down inside. “You may as well take your tight little shorts and get in a workout while you’re there.”
“Maybe my tight shorts and I will.”
“Good,” I say, dropping my hands from his body.
“Great,” he replies. “I’ll head over there tomorrow since we’re going fishing today.”
“Only for a few hours. You could still go by the gym this afternoon,” I suggest.
“Fine.”
“Okay,” I say, happy to see he’s finally being so amenable to this dream of his today.
“You want to come with me?” he asks.
“Sure,” I agree. “Will Macy be there?”
“Probably so,” he tells me. “She practically lives at Havoc.”
“Then that’s even more reason for me to tag along. I haven’t seen your sister in a few weeks.”
“All right,” Xavier agrees. “Then we should probably get moving.”
“You’re the one holding us up, sleeping in until lunchtime and still needing a shower,” I remind him as my eyes lower to his chiseled chest and eight-pack of abs. He’s been keeping up with his training despite his desk job, that’s for sure. And damn his red sweatpants for blocking his lower body from view.
“Then you should probably move so I can get to the bathroom,” he replies.
“Oh yeah,” I say. “So there’s a bathroom down the hallway on your left or right. Feel free to use either.”
“Would you recommend the left or the right?” Xavier asks while making the correlating pectoral muscle jump.
“They’re both fully stocked,” I say while trying not to laugh at his hot body antics. “But the right has a shower radio.”
“Then right it is,” he agrees, bouncing that pec again.
“God, you’re ridiculous,” I tell him with a smile and shake of my head when I finally step out of his way.
Xavier
Cassidy is spoiling me.
She has all of my favorite toiletries in the bathroom, the cabinets and fridge are packed with all the foods I love, and we have barely seen each other in years. I’m surprised she still remembers it all.
But the truth is, I haven’t forgotten anything about her either.
The lake is calm and beautiful. Most of the poor local saps are at work or just starting back to school during the day, so it’s like Cass and I have mother nature all to ourselves.
“I miss this,” I tell her as I lean back in my seat, holding the fishing rod loosely in my hand. “Back home I don’t get out of the house or office
much.”
“Long hours?” Cass asks.
“Yeah, a lot of overtime I wasn’t expecting.”
“That’s one of many benefits of owning your own business,” she says, tilting her face up to the sun. “I get to come and go whenever I want.”
“How many hours do you usually work a week?” I ask.
Cass shrugs a shoulder. “Like twenty-five or thirty? The rest of the time I’m outside testing the equipment.”
“Testing the equipment,” I repeat with a chuckle.
“How can I know what to recommend to customers unless I’ve personally tried every brand?”
“Must be nice. Who tries it out with you?” I ask curiously.
“Ah, Mike joins me if climbing is involved, but usually I’m on my own.”
“You hike, bike, and camp out on your own?” I say in disbelief.
“Well, sometimes my dad joins me. And Macy’s hiked with me a few times.”
“What if something happened to you when you’re alone in the middle of nowhere?”
“I always have my cell phone,” she says.
“Most national parks don’t have cell reception after you get deep enough into them. You, of all people, should know that,” I point out.
“They also have rangers patrolling.”
“Yeah, one or two rangers in thousands of acres. You would die before one of them found you!”
“Die of what?” she asks with a laugh.
“Anything? Everything?” I answer.
“I’m pretty tough,” Cass says. “I could last weeks out in the wilderness on my own.”
“Even so, you shouldn’t have to,” I mutter. “You need a partner.”
“A partner would be nice, but I’m not going to let my lack thereof to keep me from going.”
“I’ll go with you anywhere you want to go this week,” I tell her.
“Anywhere?” she asks with a grin.
“Anywhere. I’m pretty tough too.”
“You haven’t left the comfort of your home or office in years I bet,” Cass says. “Could you go days and nights without a phone?”
“Gladly,” I reply. Lowering the reel to the ground to prop up my fishing pole on the edge of the boat, I pull my phone from my jean pocket to check it for messages. Holding it up, I tell her honestly, “Some days I wish I could just throw this damn thing away.”
