“Thank you, beautiful.” I wink at her, and Jase glares. He knows I’m teasing though. If he didn’t, I’d have found myself in a choke hold within seconds. “I was hoping Jase might be able to fill in some of the blanks about her.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, flexing his muscles, and Lena licks her lips. What I wouldn’t give for a woman to look at me that way. “Like what?”
“Anything you got, man. I didn’t even know she existed until you mentioned her a few days ago. I need details.”
“God.” He rubs his eyelids. “Couldn’t you have gone to Gabe?”
“Nah, I thought about it, but he’s with a girl he’s known his whole life. You had to win Lena over from scratch, so you’ll give better advice.”
“I hate how logical that is. Fine.” He huffs. “I don’t actually know a heap about her. She moved to Thailand at eighteen and settled at a gym. I never heard Seth mention a boyfriend or serious relationship, but he’s pretty tight-lipped, so who the hell knows whether that means anything.”
“Perhaps she’s a career woman,” Lena suggests, giving me a slightly sympathetic look that says more than her words do. “Not interested in relationships.”
“Or maybe she just didn’t tell her hot-tempered big brother, who’s built like a freight train and has a wall full of awards for kicking ass, about her sex life.” If I were her, I’d be keeping Seth far, far away from any man I intended to see more than once. I’d do nearly anything for the guy, but he’s scary as hell at times.
“Maybe,” Lena allows.
“How many fights has she had?” I ask Jase. “I couldn’t find an official record online.”
“I don’t know.” He scratches his jaw. “Maybe seventy or eighty.”
I gape. “Holy shit. Are you having me on?”
Seventy or eighty fights is fucking intense. I’ve had six professional fights and maybe ten or fifteen amateurs. But seventy? That’s a whole other league. My respect for her skyrockets.
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “They don’t pay fighters much in Thailand, so they tend to fight every month or so, although the women generally get fewer than the men because the pool of competitors is smaller.”
“That’s insane. But kinda awesome.” I ponder the idea. I love fighting. Maybe I should move to Thailand. That said, I’d hate to lose the freedom of being able to grapple as well as strike. Jiu-jitsu is a ton of fun. “So, next to her, I’m an eenie weenie baby fighter.”
“Basically,” he agrees. “As long as she can get her ground work up to scratch, those girls she’s been matched against won’t stand a chance.”
“Huh.” Something occurs to me. “She’s had more fights than Seth.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything in terms of coaching.” This comes from Lena. “The most prolific athletes don’t necessarily make the best coaches. Seth’s secret is tough love and loyalty.” She gives me a meaningful look. “So don’t screw it up. I’m all for you finding love, but don’t stab him in the back.”
“I won’t.” While I may not always follow the rules, I’m an open person. It’s not in my nature to betray anyone. “Do you know what she likes to do other than muay thai?”
“Nah. Sorry, bro, I never paid much attention.”
“Damn it. I need an inside source on Harley Isles.” I glance at Lena. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to go undercover as a double agent and figure out what makes her tick?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not doing your dirty work for you.”
My phone vibrates and I check the screen, deleting the message as soon as I see it’s from one of the girls I met at Gabe’s fight yesterday. Maybe it makes me a douche, but I can hardly remember her face. My mind is full of Harley, and I have no interest in a substitute.
“Whoa, this just got serious,” Jase says. “Did you just delete an invitation to hook up?”
“Yeah.” It’s no big deal. From now on, I have no room in my bed for any woman other than Harley.
ChapterThree
Harley
On Monday morning, Crown MMA Gym is bustling. By the time I rock up, having slept longer than I’d have liked, there are half a dozen people hitting bags, being taken through pads, or using the weights in the corner. I spot Devon immediately, working with a big Samoan man who has tattoos everywhere. My brother is in the cage with a lean white guy who’s perhaps twenty or so, and whose ash blond hair is tied back in a ponytail, much the same as mine.
I kick my shoes off, stuff my bag in a locker, and grab a skipping rope. Thirty minutes pass as I observe the action around me, a little surprised that no one has approached. I expected questions. Curiosity. But except for a few glances, none of the men seem interested in talking to me. Even Devon hasn’t come anywhere near me, although he’s met my eyes once or twice and smirked in a way that makes me think he knows what I dreamed about last night. But he can’t, right? It’s all in my head.
When I finish, I hang up the rope and stretch. I’m on my back, working on my hamstrings when a face appears above me. Slate gray eyes, a stubbly jaw, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut. I recognize him immediately. Jase Rawlins, one of the first fighters Seth worked with, who’s been with him for years. I don’t know whether Jase is aware or not, but Seth considers him a younger brother. Jase offers a hand, and I take it and leap to my feet.
