“Barely warming up here.” I squint the blood out of one eye and raise my gloves. “Come get it, Riptide,” I growl.
We go at it for three hours. His team is pissed with him. We end up bloodied and losing pounds of water from sweat. His team comes over with electrolyte drinks, and he tosses one my way with the crook of his arm.
“Same time, a day before the Atlanta fight. You have a lot to learn.” He yanks off his gloves.
I say nothing. Out of pride, I shoot him a fuck-you look. But I know I’ll be there.
♥ ♥ ♥
I’M PROSTRATE ON the bed, ice packs wrapped all around my body. I don’t get this guy. I don’t get him at all. I’m being set up. I have to be. I wonder if Reese is in on it. If she’s meant to be my distraction.
Fuck, she is.
I groan and take out my phone. I want to text her, but I don’t have her number. I want to text somebody who gives a shit. My mom? No way. I text Oz.
You alive?
I am.
Where the fuck are you?
I want her to come over.
Can’t get what you want, asshole, that mean little voice tells me.
I glance at the pail of ice water on the floor by the bed, toss my phone aside, and shove my knuckles back into the ice. Then I lift my eyes to my father’s gloves, letting my anger fuel me.
TWENTY-ONE
THE AVENGER IS CLOSE
Reese
I haven’t seen him since that night. I didn’t go to the gym in Denver again, coward that I am. I’ve been stressing over the possibility of Remy finding out and deciding not to train with Maverick ever again. I’ve been battling the urge to seek out Maverick against feelings of betrayal to the Tates, to Miles, the logical but painstaking truth that our friendship is more than a friendship but probably won’t go anywhere.
Now we’re in Dallas, five days after I gave him my V card. I’m trying to focus on the fact that Miles texted to let me know he, Gabe, and Avery are coming to the semifinals. But the Avenger is causing a stir.
I heard the team discussing how he knocked out a few difficult opponents and ended up one away from fighting Remy again on the last fight. It’s like he’s a legend simply by trying to avenge the Scorpion alone. He’s a contender. He’s getting respect, admiration, and a lot of fear.
I couldn’t bear to listen.
The thought of Maverick fighting Remy, who’s part of my family, is starting to be painful. So instead, as the team talked, I focused on Racer’s trains, the perfect therapy if you ask me.
I’m at a Dallas gym. Today my conversation with myself has been focusing on how great it is that he’s not here so I can actually feel calm as I exercise and also stay focused on supporting Team Remy. I’m glad when I head over to day care, ready to clear my mind with some good old Racer fun, when I get a text from Brooke.
Take the day R and I are taking Racer to the zoo
You sure?
Yes, picking him up right now
OK HAVE FUN!
Ending up standing in the middle of the sidewalk halfway to the day care, I suddenly don’t know what to do with the rest of my day.
For some reason I find myself traveling the exact same path I came from. I push open the gym doors, greet the receptionist, and am aware of my heart starting to flip-flop in my chest as I slip inside. I pass the treadmills, bicycles, the weight section, heading toward the mats at the end and the boxing bags. I scan the area where I’d find him. There are several guys at the bags now. None of them are as big, or mysterious. Or hot.
He’s gone from my life.
Maybe he doesn’t want to see me ever again. I’m a Dumas, after all.
He’s probably training somewhere with Oz.
I wait a couple minutes more before realizing I’m just acting stupid, holding out for him like this when he’s clearly not showing.
I stride outside, then stare at the buildings across the street. The heat has been painful these past few days, but there’s a breeze today, a partly cloudy sky.
Not ready to go back to the hotel yet, I wander to the park until I see a big shady patch of grass under one tree. In every park we go to, I find the perfect tree and this becomes my and Racer’s perfect spot. I head there with my book and Racer’s snacks and spread out my blanket, sit down, and pick up where I last stopped reading.
“Hey.”
I hear his voice clearly, exquisitely clearly, and raise my gaze up dark torn jeans and a gray T-shirt straining at the shoulders with the lean muscles beneath.
Our eyes connect and my brain flashes to him holding me. Am I hurting you . . ?
His tattoo rippling . . .
His eyes flashing with passion . . .
He shoves his hands into his pockets and just looks at me. And those eyes are looking at me with caution and wariness now.
Maverick is gauging me.
“How long do you have until you need to get back?” he asks, scanning my face as if for the answer.
I don’t even know if my voice will work when I open my mouth. “A few hours. Mom and Dad took Racer to the zoo.”
He unwinds and drops down beside me, lies on his back, and then stares at the tree branches and part of the sky. “I’ve been hitting a park every day. Didn’t know which one I’d find you in.”
“You have?”
He’s staring at the sky, jaw tight. “Yeah. I didn’t want to ask Tate.”
“He wouldn’t have told you if you’d asked. And I might have been hiding as I . . . processed.”
“Processed what?”
I set my book aside, my eyes gobbling him up like breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Then I glance at the blanket. “How intense it was.”
He shuts his eyes, exhaling and clenching his fingers.
“Do you want my number?”
He sits up and props his elbows on his knees. He nods. “I don’t have my phone on me.”
I search Racer’s bag for one of my lipsticks and then I look at Maverick for permission.
He looks back at me, watching as I curl my hand around his wrist. It’s thick and strong. I press the tip of the lipstick to his arm and write my number down. In coral lipstick, on his forearm. And it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever done.
He watches me tuck the lipstick back into the bag, then remains without touching me for a moment.
He stares down at his arm. Then he turns his face away, exhales, and turns back to me. “Reese,” he whispers mournfully. “I lost control that night.” He looks at my mouth, as if he wants it. And I want him to take it.
We go at it for three hours. His team is pissed with him. We end up bloodied and losing pounds of water from sweat. His team comes over with electrolyte drinks, and he tosses one my way with the crook of his arm.
“Same time, a day before the Atlanta fight. You have a lot to learn.” He yanks off his gloves.
I say nothing. Out of pride, I shoot him a fuck-you look. But I know I’ll be there.
♥ ♥ ♥
I’M PROSTRATE ON the bed, ice packs wrapped all around my body. I don’t get this guy. I don’t get him at all. I’m being set up. I have to be. I wonder if Reese is in on it. If she’s meant to be my distraction.
Fuck, she is.
I groan and take out my phone. I want to text her, but I don’t have her number. I want to text somebody who gives a shit. My mom? No way. I text Oz.
You alive?
I am.
Where the fuck are you?
I want her to come over.
Can’t get what you want, asshole, that mean little voice tells me.
I glance at the pail of ice water on the floor by the bed, toss my phone aside, and shove my knuckles back into the ice. Then I lift my eyes to my father’s gloves, letting my anger fuel me.
TWENTY-ONE
THE AVENGER IS CLOSE
Reese
I haven’t seen him since that night. I didn’t go to the gym in Denver again, coward that I am. I’ve been stressing over the possibility of Remy finding out and deciding not to train with Maverick ever again. I’ve been battling the urge to seek out Maverick against feelings of betrayal to the Tates, to Miles, the logical but painstaking truth that our friendship is more than a friendship but probably won’t go anywhere.
Now we’re in Dallas, five days after I gave him my V card. I’m trying to focus on the fact that Miles texted to let me know he, Gabe, and Avery are coming to the semifinals. But the Avenger is causing a stir.
I heard the team discussing how he knocked out a few difficult opponents and ended up one away from fighting Remy again on the last fight. It’s like he’s a legend simply by trying to avenge the Scorpion alone. He’s a contender. He’s getting respect, admiration, and a lot of fear.
I couldn’t bear to listen.
The thought of Maverick fighting Remy, who’s part of my family, is starting to be painful. So instead, as the team talked, I focused on Racer’s trains, the perfect therapy if you ask me.
I’m at a Dallas gym. Today my conversation with myself has been focusing on how great it is that he’s not here so I can actually feel calm as I exercise and also stay focused on supporting Team Remy. I’m glad when I head over to day care, ready to clear my mind with some good old Racer fun, when I get a text from Brooke.
Take the day R and I are taking Racer to the zoo
You sure?
Yes, picking him up right now
OK HAVE FUN!
Ending up standing in the middle of the sidewalk halfway to the day care, I suddenly don’t know what to do with the rest of my day.
For some reason I find myself traveling the exact same path I came from. I push open the gym doors, greet the receptionist, and am aware of my heart starting to flip-flop in my chest as I slip inside. I pass the treadmills, bicycles, the weight section, heading toward the mats at the end and the boxing bags. I scan the area where I’d find him. There are several guys at the bags now. None of them are as big, or mysterious. Or hot.
He’s gone from my life.
Maybe he doesn’t want to see me ever again. I’m a Dumas, after all.
He’s probably training somewhere with Oz.
I wait a couple minutes more before realizing I’m just acting stupid, holding out for him like this when he’s clearly not showing.
I stride outside, then stare at the buildings across the street. The heat has been painful these past few days, but there’s a breeze today, a partly cloudy sky.
Not ready to go back to the hotel yet, I wander to the park until I see a big shady patch of grass under one tree. In every park we go to, I find the perfect tree and this becomes my and Racer’s perfect spot. I head there with my book and Racer’s snacks and spread out my blanket, sit down, and pick up where I last stopped reading.
“Hey.”
I hear his voice clearly, exquisitely clearly, and raise my gaze up dark torn jeans and a gray T-shirt straining at the shoulders with the lean muscles beneath.
Our eyes connect and my brain flashes to him holding me. Am I hurting you . . ?
His tattoo rippling . . .
His eyes flashing with passion . . .
He shoves his hands into his pockets and just looks at me. And those eyes are looking at me with caution and wariness now.
Maverick is gauging me.
“How long do you have until you need to get back?” he asks, scanning my face as if for the answer.
I don’t even know if my voice will work when I open my mouth. “A few hours. Mom and Dad took Racer to the zoo.”
He unwinds and drops down beside me, lies on his back, and then stares at the tree branches and part of the sky. “I’ve been hitting a park every day. Didn’t know which one I’d find you in.”
“You have?”
He’s staring at the sky, jaw tight. “Yeah. I didn’t want to ask Tate.”
“He wouldn’t have told you if you’d asked. And I might have been hiding as I . . . processed.”
“Processed what?”
I set my book aside, my eyes gobbling him up like breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Then I glance at the blanket. “How intense it was.”
He shuts his eyes, exhaling and clenching his fingers.
“Do you want my number?”
He sits up and props his elbows on his knees. He nods. “I don’t have my phone on me.”
I search Racer’s bag for one of my lipsticks and then I look at Maverick for permission.
He looks back at me, watching as I curl my hand around his wrist. It’s thick and strong. I press the tip of the lipstick to his arm and write my number down. In coral lipstick, on his forearm. And it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever done.
He watches me tuck the lipstick back into the bag, then remains without touching me for a moment.
He stares down at his arm. Then he turns his face away, exhales, and turns back to me. “Reese,” he whispers mournfully. “I lost control that night.” He looks at my mouth, as if he wants it. And I want him to take it.
