“Tuesday.” He nods in response.
I should get up and walk him to the door, but I need him out of my space so I can get my head on straight.
I’m all messed up over a guy – a fighter at that.
“See ya, pinky,” he says as he crosses the room slowly.
“Later, champ.”
I hear his feet moving down the hallway, the door opening and shutting and then he’s gone.
And I already wish he’d come back.
CHAPTER NINE
Hudson
“You up for a run?” Justin asks.
“Fuck no. I’m still limping like an eighty-year-old. You know, for a head trainer, you’re not very observant.”
He chuckles. “Thought you might have just been milking it.”
“Because that’s my usual MO, right?”
He shrugs and goes back to scrolling on his cell phone. Facebook probably; the guy is addicted.
“What about him?” I tip my head in the direction of a ginger-haired kid sparring off to the side of the two rings we’re meant to be scouting for talent.
“He’s not even a senior.”
“I know but check his footwork. He’s young, but there’s potential there.”
Justin watches for a few moments before getting to his feet and heading in the direction of the kid.
I grin.
He might argue virtually everything with me, but he knows I’ve got an eye for talent.
I try to pick out a few fighters a year from the wrong side of the tracks and give them an all-expenses-paid membership at the MMA gym I fight from – Justin’s dad’s gym.
I might have grown up on the good side of town, but I know what it’s like to struggle. My parents don’t support my career – never have. So, when I left school at seventeen with the goal to pursue a career in fighting, I was cut off.
The only person I still speak to in my family is my older brother, and even that relationship is strained. If he wasn’t my accountant, I’d probably never hear from him either.
Where I grew up, using your fists to make money isn’t an acceptable career choice – it never mattered how good I was at it.
Justin, Rusty, Beast and the other guys at the gym – they’re my real family.
People say blood is thicker than water, but I think that’s bullshit. You’re born with blood, but water is a choice.
“He gone fishing for newbies?”
I glance up and see Rusty standing in front of me.
He tips his head in the direction of Justin, who is now talking to the ginger-haired kid.
“Kid had good feet,” I explain.
He nods and drops into the seat next to me.
We both watch as Justin speaks and the young guy’s eyes light up.
“Got him,” Rusty murmurs as Justin hands over a business card and then points in my direction.
The kid’s jaw falls open, and I raise my chin at him, a chuckle falling from my lips.
“Kid’s star struck,” Rusty drawls.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“Beast said you guys were down here, and I was bored.”
I shake my head at him. “You’ve got a fight in less than a month, go and fucking train for it.”
Out of all of us, Rusty is by far the least motivated. He’s also the most naturally talented, so the fucker usually manages to get by on that.
He chuckles. “Yeah, maybe later… I was thinking of swinging by to see Ramsey.”
My jaw clenches, but I chant to myself to stay cool.
I’ve got no reason and no right to get wound up at the idea of Ramsey and Rusty hanging out, but I can’t seem to get that message to my racing pulse.
“Oh yeah? You nursing an injury?”
“Nope. Just wanted to hang out.”
I nod my head, one sharp, short bob, my eyes trained on the two fighters in the ring throwing jabs at one another.
“I haven’t seen her for a year or so, but damn, the girl is all grown up,” he carries on, seemingly oblivious to my inner rage.
“I wouldn’t let J hear you say that.”
He chuckles. “What? That his sister is hot as fuck?”
I clench my fists and inhale deeply through my nose.
His chuckle deepens. “Shit, Horror, I thought Beast was making shit up, but he’s right, isn’t he? You’re keen on Ramsey?”
My head snaps around to glare at him.
He howls with laughter at the look on my face.
“Shit, son, you’re screwed.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Your knuckles are so white I’m worried you’re going to pop a joint.”
I glance down at my still tightly clenched fists and release them quickly.
Shit.
“We’re friends. That’s it. She’s working on my injuries,” I hiss.
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
“Fuck off, Rusty.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Horror, you might be able to talk smack to Justin, but I’m smarter than him, and I know a lie when I see one.”
“I’m almost entirely certain you’re not smarter than him.”
“Well I am. And seeing as you’re thinking about banging your best mate’s sister, I must be smarter than you too.”
“I’m not thinking about fucking Ramsey.”
He claps me on the shoulder and bounces to his feet.
“Well then you must be the only one,” he taunts me.
I lunge for him, but he darts out of the way – stupid bastard and his uninjured body.
He chuckles, his loud laugh ringing out through the run-down old gym as he strolls out the door.
Justin looks at me in question, and I wave him off as I limp back to my seat.
Fucking Rusty and his bullshit.
He’s so much easier to deal with when he’s not right.
***
“What’s Ramsey’s cell number?” I ask Justin as he drops me back at my car.
I feel like a tool driving that car most of the time, but it’s fast, and it used up some of the money I earnt from my fights. I earn more than I can figure out how to spend without living like a total wanker, so a ridiculously expensive car seemed like an acceptable purchase.
“What the fuck do you want that for?” he demands.
“Dude. Chill. She’s my fucking physiotherapist, remember? I’m running late for our appointment, so I need to call her.”
He grimaces. “Sorry, man, it’s fucking Rusty – he’s been in my ear all morning about Ramsey and I’m on edge.”
I nod and feel like a total asshole. I’m the one testing the boundaries, not Rusty – well not as far as I’m aware.
“I’ll keep an eye on him.”
He grabs his phone and scrolls through.
“Thanks, bro.” He calls out her number and I tap the digits into my contact list.
“I gotta boost, J, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Say hey to Ram-Ram for me,” he calls as I slam the door shut.
I try to jog over to my car, but my leg is still giving me grief.
I hate being injured. My body runs like a well-oiled machine usually, and the week or so after a tough fight drives me insane.
I start my engine and it purrs to life. I turn out of the gym car park and head down the street towards Ramsey’s, hitting dial on the Bluetooth car system.
Her phone rings and rings, and I’m just about to hang up when her breathy voice answers, “Hello?”
Just the sound of her speaking ties me up in knots.
“Hello?” she repeats.
“Ramsey, hey, it’s Hudson.”
“Oh hey, champ.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
I can’t pinpoint the moment she started calling me champ, but I like it.
“I got caught up at the gym, I’m really sorry, I’m still ten away… do you want to rebook me?”
“It’s no worries, you’re my
last client for the day, so take your time.”
“You’re too good to me.”
“Special privileges remember?” She laughs lightly.
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Drive safe,” she replies, her tone soft.
I hit the end key and try to steady my thumping heart.
There is just something about Ramsey Ashton that turns me into a complete wreck.
CHAPTER TEN
Ramsey
He winces as he throws his legs over the side of the bed.
I got stuck into his sore spots today – I know he can handle it, and he needs to get back to training, so the sooner we get that muscle in working order again, the better.
“What are you up to tonight?” I ask as he slides his shirt on.
I’ve learnt to look away when he does that – it’s better for my self-control.
“No big plans. Might play some video games.”
“Rager of a night,” I joke.
He chuckles. “What about you then? What big, exciting plans have you got?”
“Grocery shopping.” I screw up my nose as I turn around. Thankfully, he’s fully clothed now.
His chuckle deepens. “And you’re giving me shit?”
I pop a shoulder and grin. “I’m starving and there is no food in this house. Juliet has been a total piker and gone to her mum’s house for dinner.”
He’s silent for a few beats.
“Come out for dinner with me then.”
It’s not a question.
“Dinner? With you?” I nibble on my bottom lip nervously.
I know we’ve agreed to be friends, and friends go out for dinner, but that sounds a lot like a date.
“Yeah,” he says, his dark eyes burning into mine.
He doesn’t elaborate further. He doesn’t reassure me that it’s not a date… he just stares and waits for me to say yes; because I think we both already know that I will.
I watch him, watching me, my resolve weakening by the second.
“So… where are you taking me?”
***
“You like sushi, right?”
“There are people out there who don’t like sushi?”
He smirks. “There’s some sick individuals in the world, pinky, I don’t know what to tell you.”
A wide, genuine smile graces my face. I like hanging out with this man far too much.
I can already feel that this is going to end in heartbreak, for me at least.
“This is the best sushi in town.”
I should know that. This is my home town after all, but since I haven’t spent any time here in the past few years, it’s all different now than it was when I left.
So much has changed around here.
The installation of a world-class fighting gym being one of the main things – courtesy of my dad.
There were never this many sexy fighters wandering around when I was in high school. I probably would have got myself into a whole heap of trouble if there was.
He holds the glass door open for me and points in the direction of a vacant booth down the back.
Heads turn as we walk past, but Hudson doesn’t seem to notice. No one approaches us. In fact, no one even gets out their phone to take a photo.
Either the novelty of living in the same town as a superstar athlete has worn off – which I doubt due to the amount of whispering going on – or Hudson really does scare people.
I guess they don’t call him ‘Horror’ for nothing.
He slides into one side of the booth and I take the other – so we’re sitting directly opposite one another.
His face has healed up quickly – the black eye is just a faint yellow bruise now, and his jaw has only got a little bit of purple left.
He pushes a menu in my direction. “You’ve never been here?”
“Nope.”
“How long have you been away for?”
“Long enough for the MMA boys to take over the town,” I reply with a grin.
He chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
I shrug. “Hey, it should be good for business at least. I need a heap of beat-up bodies to fix. And it’s not your doing – it’s my father’s.”
He smirks and glances down at his menu.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask, paying no attention whatsoever to what I’m going to eat.
I’m still starving, but just as much for information about him as I am for food.
“About four, maybe four and a half years now. I met Justin when I’d been here about six months and we’ve been close ever since.”
“Where’s your family from?”
He drops his menu and studies me. “A stuck-up town about three hours from here. They all still live there, my mum, dad, and my brother. We’re not exactly close.”
“That sucks.”
I might not be super close with my parents either, but I have my brother at least.
He shrugs. “It is what it is. I’ve got plenty of people in my corner.”
I smile. “I’m in your corner, hypothetically speaking at least.”
He grins widely, showing off his perfectly-straight white teeth. “You don’t want to hang out on the side of the cage again?”
I shudder. “I’ll pass. Why do they have to call it a cage anyway? It makes you sound like an animal.”
“You should open your eyes next time I fight, pinky… I am an animal.”
A shiver crawls over my skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake.
He really is a scary guy.
The waitress appears then to take our drink order and when she leaves, the dark intensity burning in his eyes has lightened.
“You went to school here?”
I nod. “Left to study physio after I graduated high school.”
“Is that how you know Juliet?”
“Yeah, we’ve been friends since I was about eight. She started her vet nurse degree at another school but transferred to be closer to me in her second year, my first year – she’s a year older than me.”
“Cute.”
“That word sounds weird coming out of your mouth.”
He chuckles. “Why?”
“Rugged men that look like they could rip you in half don’t usually say words like ‘cute’…”
“Pretty girls with pink hair don’t usually talk about a big bad, MMA fighter ‘ripping them in half’.” He grins deviously, the sexual innuendo dripping from his lips.
“Oh my god, I didn’t say it like that.” I feel my cheeks heat. “I meant with your bare hands.”
“Just stop talking, pinky, you’re already pretty deep in that hole.”
Oh sweet Jesus.
“Now who’s saying inappropriate shit, huh?” I giggle.
He laughs, long and loud. “You know, Ramsey, I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.”
“Whatever. You’re always laughing and smiling.”
He shakes his head. “It’s only when I’m with you.”
I blush.
“Seriously, ask anyone, a scowl is my usual expression. You’re going to be bad for my rep if this carries on – people will start asking me for photos and to sign shit if I’m not careful.”
“They don’t ever ask you?” I question, grateful for the slight shift in conversation. I didn’t quite know what to say when he was being so sweet.
He shrugs. “Nah, not many are brave enough… I pride myself on being unapproachable.”
Sure, he might look as hard as nails, but he’s never made me feel anything but welcome.
I glance behind me and see a young guy at a nearby table raising his phone to take a photo of Hudson, doing his best to be inconspicuous. I duck out of the way.
I’ve had enough of that shit with my dad to last me a lifetime.
Unlike Hudson, my dad prized himself on being approachable, and my childhood suffered because of it.
We had to stop and talk to every fan – every fighter. We’d go on family holidays that consisted o
f nothing much more than visiting the local gyms and recruiting fighters.
While I agree that there’s something noble in the way my father made time for everyone, it would have been nice if just once he made time for me.
Justin loved it, obviously – it was an aspiring fighter’s wet dream to have a father like ours.
“You’re not close to your folks?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “They don’t approve of my career choice.”
I clasp my chest in mock outrage. “What mother doesn’t like to see her baby getting beaten half to death at the hands of another man?”
He chuckles. “If I’m doing it right, I’m the one who’s doing the beating.”
He is doing it right. I know that much.
“I didn’t expect them to be there in the front row of every fight, but I thought they’d support me, not disown me.”
There’s hurt there in his eyes that I’d be willing to bet he rarely shows.
“You don’t talk to them at all?”
“My mum sends a card on Christmas and my birthday.”
I reach out across the table and take his hand in mine without thinking twice about it.
“That’s really shitty, champ.”
He shrugs, his fingers weaving through mine. “That’s life for you.”
“What about your brother? You see much of him?”
“A little bit,” he replies, his gaze locked on our intertwined hands. “He’s my accountant. I think he’s a little more understanding since he sees the balance of my bank account – not that I do it for the money.”
“I bet the money doesn’t hurt though.”
He grins, his face tipping up to look at me. “It certainly doesn’t.”
The waitress comes back with our drinks, and I reluctantly pull my hand from his.
She takes our food order and disappears again.
“So, what about you? Close with your olds?”
I shake my head as I take a sip of my chocolate milkshake. “Not really. If you’re not a fighter, you don’t really exist in my father’s eyes. And if you don’t exist in his eyes, then my mother doesn’t really see you either.”
He frowns. “That’s fucked up.”
Mr. July: An MMA Sports Romance (Calendar Boys Book 7) Page 5
