Worth the fight Page 3

  “Okay.”

  He smiles, and I’m caught in his boyish charm. “Okay?” I think I’ve actually surprised him.

  I smile back and raise an eyebrow, daring him to question my answer.

  “Friday, 7pm. Give me your address. I’ll pick you up.”

  “I’m barely done by 7pm. Why don’t you pick me up here?”

  And just like that I made dinner plans with Nico “The Lady Killer” Hunter.

  Chapter 5

  Nico

  “You give any more thought to taking on Kravitz?” Preach stands on the other side of the bag, struggling to hold it in place as I alternate between kicking and punching. He’s been bugging the shit out of me for four months now. It’s been thirteen months since I stepped out of the cage and today was the first day that I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat reliving it since it happened. Nope. Instead I woke up with a hard-on and a picture of Elle smirking at me, daring me to question what had made her change her mind about going out with me. I took a cold shower. It didn’t fucking help. So instead I came down to the gym and started earlier than usual.

  “Are we going to have this conversation again, Preach?” I hit the bag with a series of quick strikes and catch Preach off guard, he takes a step back to steady himself. He knows damn well I meant to knock him on his ass.

  “We’re going to have the conversation until you get your head out of your ass and get back in the damn cage.”

  I switch to leg attacks. My legs are stronger and I know I have a better chance of taking him down behind the bag with the power of my legs. But fucking Preach is ready for me and his stance didn’t even falter. He probably knew what I was going to do before I did. That’s what happens when you stay with the same trainer for ten years. They get into your head and know you better than you know yourself. They have to. Otherwise how would they break a fighter of their bad habits.

  “I’m not ready.” I stop and double over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath. I’ve been at it for almost eight hours, but Preach doesn’t know that. He gets pissed if I do anything over six in a day. Says a man’s body has to rest if he wants it to renew, or some shit like that. He came in at his usual time and assumed I’d just come down.

  I see a glimmer of hope in Preach’s eyes when I stand to face him. I know what he thinks, I didn’t say no today. He sees it as progress. I’m sure he’d take anything at this point. I know I’m a stubborn shit and haven’t budged from not wanting to get back in the cage for thirteen months. But Preach knows me. I still workout six hours a day, six days a week. Fighters don’t put in that kind of time unless they’re training for a fight. Even then, some who are training put in less.

  I didn’t lie to Preach, I’m not ready yet. But today I woke up and saw a glimmer of sun breaking in from under the cloud I’ve carried around with me for the past year. I don’t know if it will lead anywhere, but I’ll be ready if it does.

  Chapter 6

  Elle

  I look in the mirror at the newest outfit I’ve picked out and decide it will have to do. I’m already a half an hour late for work and I haven’t even left my apartment yet. My bed is littered with clothes, haphazardly thrown all over the place. I must have tried on ten outfits this morning. I feel like a teenager. I never give much thought to what I wear to work or my dates with William. I have nice clothes and William and I make an easy transition from work to dinner. He removes his tie and jacket and unbuttons his top two buttons. I take off my suit jacket. But I’m not dressing for William today.

  I want to look sexy tonight. I know I shouldn’t care what I wear on my non-date dinner with Nico Hunter, but in the pit of my stomach I do care. I see desire in his eyes and it fuels me. I like that I can put it there, even though I don’t want to. I take one last look in the mirror and like what I see. I have on a cream colored pencil skirt that hugs my body and comes a few inches above my knee. I’ve paired it with a soft pink, completely see-through blouse with a nude colored cami underneath. Because the cami is nude, it’s not entirely clear if I have anything on underneath without a closer inspection. I topped off the outfit with nude heels. They’re higher than I usually wear to the office, but because they match my skin color, there is no break from my leg to my foot, which makes my already long legs look longer.

  I get the reaction I hoped for when I walk into the office, only the reaction comes from Regina and not the man I dressed for this morning.

  “You look hot, Elle.”

  I smile at Regina. I’m a little embarrassed that I dressed for a man, but Regina is my friend and won’t judge me. “Thank you, Regina.” I give her a gratuitous twirl in the lobby.

  “You’re going to make that man wag his tail and hang his tongue out of the side of his mouth for the whole date.”

  Regina’s words make me smile, but then I force myself to slam back down to reality. “It’s not a date.” My face is serious and I use my best scolding lawyer voice.

  “Whatever.” Regina smiles.

  “It’s not.” I know she’s pacifying me.

  “I’m not arguing with you. If you say it’s not a date, then it’s not a date.” Regina’s smile never leaves her face.

  “Good, because it’s not.” I stroll past Regina and head to my office. I have a million things to do, and now, due to my playing dress up this morning, I have an hour less to do them in.

  ***

  I’m happy everyone has already left when Nico walks in the door right at seven. I’m putting files on Regina’s desk as I catch a glimpse of him on the sidewalk through the glass front door. He’s wearing jeans and a dress shirt and I feel my heart rate increase as he walks into the lobby. The man is sexy. Not beautiful or handsome, those words are too generic to describe what he is. Sexy. Sensual. Rough. All man.

  “Hey.” He smiles at me with that lopsided grin and for a second I feel my knees go weak. The man makes me feel like a teenage schoolgirl. I can’t remember the last time I felt like that. Yes, I do remember, I was a teenager.

  “Hi.” I smile at him. I swear his smile is contagious, I just see it and my mouth mirrors his in response.

  “I just need a minute to shut down my computer.” Nico nods and I step around Regina’s desk. The front reception had been hiding my body and I’m still looking at him when he catches the first glimpse of my outfit. I watch his face change and it makes my day of running around to make up the hour that I was late this morning all worth it. I head down the hall to my office and steal a glimpse back at him as I turn to enter my door. He’s watched me from behind as I walked. He doesn’t see the smirk on my face as I go into my office to get ready to leave.

  I lock up the front door and wait for Nico to show me the way to his car. But instead he walks forward to the motorcycle parked at the curb in front of the building and hands me a helmet with a devilish smile. Really? Who picks up a date on a motorcycle?

  “Umm...I can drive.” I offer, thinking maybe he doesn’t own a car. With gas being the price that it is and living in a city with a good public transportation system, it might even be practical to have a motorcycle instead of a car.

  “Have you ever ridden before?”

  “No.”

  “Are you afraid?” He seems genuinely concerned that I might be.

  “No.” I’m actually not, although I probably should be.

  He smiles and there I go again, responding in kind. “Good, then get on.”

  I look down at my skirt and back up at Nico in contemplation. His face is amused. He slips his helmet on and casually throws his leg over the bike seating himself like he’s done it a thousand times before.

  He turns to me and waits, his smile still in place. I shake my head at him and put on the helmet before carefully straddling the seat behind him so as to not give anyone who might be watching a show. I’m pretty sure I heard him chuckle.

  I’m not quite sure what to do with myself once I’m on the back of the bike. I feel awkward. Leaving space between us, I rest my hands on Nico’s
back, my palms near his shoulders. Nico takes my purse from my hands and tucks it into a saddlebag I hadn’t even noticed was there.

  “Scoot forward.” I do.

  “Wrap your arms around my waist and hold on tight.” I hesitate for a second, but do as I’m told. Safety first, right?

  “Put those sexy shoes on the pegs and don’t move them. Not even a little.”

  Okay, so now I may be a little nervous. I consider asking him what could happen if I move my feet, but my thought is fleeting as he pulls away from the curb and I find myself wrapping my arms around his waist in a death grip.

  After a few minutes, I start to relax. Most of the traffic has passed and it’s a beautiful late summer night. The wind hits my face and it feels exhilarating. Freeing. I loosen my death grip around Nico’s waist, and splay my hands around his abdomen. For the first time, I’m relaxed enough to actually feel what is beneath my hands. Solid muscle. Not just firm and in shape like William, the kind of muscles that are ripped. Swollen. Deeply defined. They’re raised under his flesh and I want to move my hands around to explore better. But I don’t.

  We slow as we enter a neighborhood I’m not familiar with. I’ve never been to a restaurant in this area. William and I tend to stick to the same restaurants, exploring new ones occasionally that he finds when a new Zagat comes out each year. We crawl almost to a stop in front of what looks like a warehouse and I watch as a metal garage door opens. It looks like a delivery entrance, but Nico steers the motorcycle under the slow rising door and it begins to close behind us.

  He turns the motorcycle off and takes off his helmet. I follow his lead. “Where are we?” I look around the unfamiliar surroundings as I speak. We’re in a garage, there is a large, dark colored SUV parked next to us and a few bicycles hang on the walls to the side.

  “My house. Well, technically we’re in the gym down here, but I live in the loft upstairs.”

  I look at the SUV next to me as I do my best to unstraddle the bike in a ladylike manner. It’s not an easy task to accomplish. “Is that your SUV?”

  The sides of Nico’s mouth turn upwards in a hint of his devilish grin. “Yes.”

  He takes my helmet, hands me my purse, and motions to the door. “Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour before we go up. Dinner is in the oven, but we have a little time.”

  I’m still absorbing that he is cooking me dinner and we are not going to a restaurant when I feel his hand on the small of my back as he begins to lead me into the main part of the building. His large hand takes up half of my lower back and I can feel my skin underneath his hand sizzle. The hair on the back of my neck stands up of its own accord, my body buzzing from a simple touch. I don’t even think he notices my reaction.

  Nico flips a switch and the enormity of the room we entered comes into focus. It’s the entire bottom floor of what was likely once a warehouse. But now it’s a state of the art gym. There is exercise equipment in one half of the space and the other half has what looks like two large boxing rings set up.

  “Wow. This is really nice. It doesn’t look anything like my gym.”

  Nico chuckles. “I doubt any of my clientele look anything like the people at your gym either.”

  I look at Nico confused and he explains. “It’s a fighter’s gym, Elle. It’s filled with men with tattoos and raging testosterone. I’d hate to see what would happen in here if you walked into this place dressed how you probably look for the gym.” Nico shakes his head and chuckles.

  Oh. I’m not sure if I should be offended or take his words as a compliment, so I choose the latter.

  After a few more minutes, we walk into a freight elevator and Nico pulls down a metal gate. He inserts a key into the control panel and the elevator slowly ascends. Nico lifts the gate and his hand is back on my lower back, as he steers me out of the elevator and into his loft. It’s enormous, almost as wide as the downstairs.

  At least half of the floor is a huge open space. Off to one side is a sleek modern kitchen with stainless steel appliances. There’s an oversized island and gleaming granite countertops that modernize the dark wood cabinetry beneath them. The living area takes up the other half of the floor and has the largest sectional couch that I have ever seen. I bet the couch can hold ten men. I notice it’s strategically positioned in front of a large flat screen TV and I envision a bunch of guys sitting around watching fights. A complete bachelor pad, but a very nice one at that.

  My nose catches a scent and I’m surprised. “Chicken Franchese?”

  Nico smiles at me as he walks into the kitchen. “Very good.”

  “I’m impressed. You can cook?” I never gave it any thought before, but in the years that I have been seeing William, he has never once cooked for me. I’m not even sure if he even can cook.

  “Don’t look so surprised. I’m pretty good at it, if I may say so myself.” Nico walks to the oven and checks on dinner.

  “Do you cook often?” I’m so curious about this man.

  “I have to, it’s part of the sport. You can’t keep in shape and eat crap, so you learn to cook healthy pretty fast if you’re serious about fighting.”

  I nod, it makes sense. It’s next to impossible to maintain a good diet when you live off restaurants and takeout. I should know. The only choice is salad, which is how I have been able to keep thin, but a man that looks like Nico needs an intake of way more calories than a salad could supply. “Do you still fight?” I don’t even think before the words come out of my mouth. Maybe he doesn’t like to talk about fighting. I remember the newspaper saying he had retired after what had happened, but he was definitely younger than whatever the normal age is for fighters to retire.

  Nico tells me dinner is ready and puts out an entire meal of salad, vegetables and the main dish. I noticed that he didn’t answer my question, and I’m not sure if it was intentional or just the timing.

  We sit at the table for a long time after we eat. I tease him about how domestic he is and he teases me about how dependent I am on takeout. He laughs when I tell him I’m on a first name basis with at least five deliverymen. Our conversation flows naturally and time goes by fast. Too fast. Eventually we relocate to the couch and our conversation turns to how he got into MMA. Nico tells me he’s the youngest of four boys and was raised by a single mother who worked two jobs.

  “I got my ass kicked a lot. My mom was at work at night and my brothers were into wrestling big time.”

  I laugh at the notion that Nico could get his ass kicked. “You? I hate to see what your brothers look like.”

  Nico laughs, “I was always big for my age. When I was eight or nine my mother would warn my brothers that some day I was going to be bigger and stronger and get even with them for the years of ganging up on me. I don’t think they expected that day to come when I was only twelve.”

  “How old were your brothers when you were twelve?”

  “We’re all two years apart so they were fourteen, sixteen and eighteen.”

  “You were bigger than the eighteen-year-old at twelve?”

  “I don’t know if I was bigger than him back then. But I could fight better. I remember the day that it happened too. Joe, the eighteen-year-old, came home and I was drinking out of his cup.”

  “His cup? He had his own cup?”

  Nico laughs. “It sounds worse than it is. But yeah, he had a cup and none of us were allowed to drink out of it. I used to take it out when he wasn’t home and pour a big glass of milk and dunk my cookies into it.”

  “On purpose?”

  “Yeah, on purpose. I liked to use it when he wasn’t home, it gave me a secret satisfaction.” Nico smiles and shakes his head, realizing how silly it sounds to have taken satisfaction from using someone else’s cup. “But one day he came home early and caught me. We went at it like we usually did. We broke the coffee table and the end table wrestling around. Mom used to get pissed when we broke the furniture. But after we rolled around for a while, I pinned his ass to the floor.”

&nbs
p; I smile watching Nico tell his story with such fondness in his voice. I’d never heard anyone speak of fighting with such reverence. To me, fighting has always meant hatred and violence and ugly things. But oddly enough, when Nico speaks of his brothers he makes it sounds like it comes from love and beauty.

  Nico stands, “How about a glass of wine?”

  “Sure, I’d love that.”

  Nico brings me a glass of wine, but nothing for himself. “Aren’t you having one?”

  “I don’t drink when I’m training.” He sits next to me on the couch, much closer than he had been before. My leg touches his inadvertently when I lean forward to set my drink down and when I look back at Nico he’s looking at our legs where they meet. He notices me watching him and he brings his eyes back to mine. I’m mesmerized as he looks into my eyes and then slowly his eyes drop to my mouth for a long moment. I can tell he’s forcing his gaze back to mine against his will when his beautiful green eyes refocus on mine. His eyes are dilated now and my breath hitches when I see my own desire reflected back at me.

  “Oh.” I swallow hard. What were we talking about? Drinking. Drinking while training. “Are you training for a fight?”

  Something different passes over his face at my question, and I’m not sure what it is. “Not really.” Nico ponders for a second. “But if you ask Preach, he might say differently.” He chuckles. The mood has changed and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved.

  I lean forward and take another sip of my wine. “Preach?”

  “He’s my trainer.”

  I wait for more, but nothing comes. “Why would Preach think you’re training for a fight if you aren’t?”

  “Because he thinks he knows me better than I know myself.”

  “Does he?” Nico is surprised by my question. I watch as he thinks before he responds. I like that he doesn’t just spit out an answer. He seems to consider his words carefully.