First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (137 page)

“Oh. Wow.” I can’t see Buster even raising his voice.

“He’s hiring a security guy for outside. On my tab.” He puts the phone away.

I sink onto one of the chairs. “Do you have to deal with this all the time?”

He sits down on the sofa. “Not really. I’m not Brad Pitt or anything. They’ll show up when my manager calls them, but no, they don’t really follow me on a day-to-day basis.”

“But now?”

He leans back, clasping his arms behind his head. “A few with nothing better to do might tail me for a day or two. Nothing I can’t manage.”

I glance at the window, suddenly paranoid someone might spring out to take a shot.

He sees me and laughs. “I made sure no one followed me here.”

I realize I haven’t offered him anything. “I have water. And maybe some crackers.” I jump up from the chair. “You want something?”

“Maybe you could sit over here?”

I hesitate.

“This is the only thing I’ve wanted all day,” he says. “To get here.”

The comment warms me over. But I still don’t move. “What made you think you would find me?”

“I planned to worm it out of Buster. I got lucky with Zero.”

We watch each other across the room. “Sure I can’t get you some water?”

“I guess the mountain will have to come to Mohammed.” He stands up, smooth and easy despite the sunken cushions. Before I can figure out his next move, he’s in front of me and holding out his hand. “How can I get you to sit next to me?” he asks.

I take a step back. “Answer some questions, for real this time.”

He lowers his arm. “Fair enough.”

“Is your engagement fake?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you do it?”

He sinks back onto the sofa. “Brittany and I have been friends for years. Never a relationship. I sort of discovered her. She was training, and man, she was fierce.”

“Her record is terrible.”

He frowns. “Yeah, in the ring, she’s a mess.” He sweeps a hand through his hair. I realize that this is his nervous gesture. “She caught the eye of this cosmetic company, though. It was a dream deal for her.”

Bah. A makeup model. I sit down opposite him again. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

This makes him smile. “I bet so. But they wouldn’t sign off on her, since she was doing so badly.”

“But she never got any better.”

“I know. So she changed her style. Went the pretty route instead of tough. Changed her nickname to ‘Bombshell.’ Started doing silly things in the ring for attention and press.”

“I bet that didn’t go over well with the serious fighters.”

“Yeah, at first they lined up to kick her ass.”

“So, how does the engagement come in?”

“She ran out of people willing to get in the ring with her. I’ve been getting her fights. Our relationship means managers are willing to make trades. I do this match if she gets that one.”

“But you haven’t been fighting.”

He pauses, looking at me, and I know he’s realizing I’ve checked up on him. “No. Not since — not for a while. So, this was a last-ditch thing. Planning a big fancy wedding gets attention. She’s really close to getting the deal. She’s trying to show that she can get publicity.”

That’s what she meant in the back room with that Greg guy then. The contract.

“So, what happens now?”

“She’ll keep spinning what happened. Divert the press by going dress shopping.”

“But you two stay engaged.”

“Until the deal is signed, yes.”

I lean back in the chair. “Meanwhile, I’m out of a job.”

He looks over my head, probably at the water stains. “Jo, what do you want? I can get you anything.”

I jump up from my chair. “I don’t want anybody’s charity.”

“You took the last job I got you.”

He has me there. “It’s different now.” And it is.

He stands up. “Because I’ve kissed you?”

I walk behind the chair. I want something between us. “Maybe.”

He moves toward me, and my heart is hammering like it’s going to bust out of my chest.

“Jo,” he says, and my name sounds different than before. He says it so softly. “Come here.”

His always-changing eyes are almost pure green right now, just the tiniest bit of brown around the rim. He’s close enough that I can smell him again. His hands cover mine where they are gripping the back of the chair. His sleeve shifts, and I see something black on his wrist.

It’s my ponytail holder. He’s put it on his arm. My heart squeezes.

When I still don’t move, he lifts my hand, examining my fingers. “You doing okay after the fight?”

I nod.

“Brittany’s face is pretty banged up. You have to be hurting from that blow.”

And from half an hour of smacking the bags, I think, but I still don’t answer.

He begins kissing my knuckles, and the heat bolts straight from my fingers to my heart. No one has ever kissed my hand. That fairy-tale feeling comes over me for the second time that day.

“Why aren’t you married?” I blurt out, trying to stay in control.

He looks up. “A lot of fighters are single,” he says. His lips return to my hand.

“Why is that?”

“It’s hard to watch someone get the pulp beaten out of them, over and over.”

“I kinda liked watching Brittany lose.”

He smiles over my fingers, his eyes sparkling. I know I’ve lost the battle. Everything in me is warm and loose. He lifts my hand and leads me around the chair like it’s a dance. And I go, like I’m a partner being turned in a circle.

He pulls me close. “That’s better,” he says against my forehead. And, same as that morning, he pulls at my ponytail to free my hair.

“Now they’ll know who I am,” I whisper.

“Nobody’s going to see you like this but me,” he says.

My head is on his chest. I think his heartbeat may be the one I’ve heard the most in my life. And this after knowing him only a few weeks. I can’t remember being small, although I have impressions of my grandma rocking me. Perhaps I once knew her heartbeat just as well.

He keeps it easy. His fingers flow through my hair, then massage my neck. He touches my shoulders, feeling the muscle there, making his way down my arms. “You’ve come so far so fast.”

I pull away a little. “Is that why you’re like this? Because I have fighter potential?”

He runs his thumb beneath my chin. “It’s the first thing I knew about you. I saw you cutting into that group of guys and thought, ‘This girl has got something like nobody else.’” His eyes are earnest as they gaze into mine. “And I’ve seen a lot of fighters.”

I can barely swallow. His lips are so close, and I’m remembering what it felt like for them to kiss me. I want it again. I want it now.

Colt knows. I can see that he knows. He leans forward, and there it is, that soft connection of our mouths. This time, though, everything rushes at me very fast. Heat blasts through my whole body. I realize that if the kiss is this incredible, the rest could be so much more.

I refuse to be shy anymore. I’m not avoiding some jerk guy who makes me uncomfortable or afraid. This is different, and now I want to know what everyone else has always known. I press into him, hard, letting my tongue go to him first this time. He groans, and his arms come around and pull me in tight.

We’re touching everywhere, our chests, our bellies. I realize that he’s erect against my hips. His legs are slightly bent so that we connect, and now he’s pressing into me. Even through his jeans I can feel all of him.

I can’t breathe, so I break the kiss. He steps back to the sofa and sits down, taking me with him. I shift so that my knees are on either side of his thighs. His hands move beneath my hoodie to my waist. “You’re so impossibly tiny,” he says. His mouth moves to my neck, nudging away the collar.

I want to move faster, to grind against him. But I hold back. I can’t seem more experienced than I am, or else it will happen too fast. I don’t know what I’m ready for. But this is bliss, pleasure erupting along my skin where his kisses fan around my neck. He encircles my waist, his hands almost connecting. I’m not tough Jo anymore, pushing obnoxious guys away, cutting off their crude comments. I’m Colt’s Jo, his Kettle Belle, and I want him. I need for him to be close.

His thumbs graze the bottom of my bra, and I suck in a breath. For a moment I flash to a painful squeeze, a nipple pinch that made my eyes pop with tears. I refuse to let that memory come forward. I shove it back. But I’ve stiffened a little, and Colt has noticed. He pulls his hands out from under the hoodie and just holds me tight, one hand in my hair.

I’m both sad and relieved. I have to think this out. Let the memories of my stepbrother come forward, and then kick them back down. I realize I can do this now. I am safe enough to look objectively at what he did, and what I had to do to get away, to protect myself. I’m moving forward.

Something pulls free, a heaviness lightened. I feel like I’m coming out of the ground, like a seed rather than a zombie. Colt pulls me back and looks me in the face. “There’s no rush here,” he says.

I can only nod.

His eyes are shining, like he’s happy. And I’m realizing, we are.

His phone buzzes. His face switches to an annoyed frown.

“What is it?” I ask.

“That would be Brittany,” he says.

“Another problem?” Not like he could know. The phone is in his pocket.

“No, I promised I’d bring you to see her.”

“What the hell for?”

He sighs. “I’m going to have to ask you to trust me again.”

I can’t help but wonder,
what now?

Chapter 5

I expect we’re going to meet Brittany at the gym, or maybe a restaurant. But Colt pulls up to a hair salon.

“She can’t wait until after her hair appointment to bawl me out?” I ask as Colt locks the helmets to his handlebars. He brought one for me, so I know he and Brittany must have planned all of this ahead.

He doesn’t comment. It’s late, and the salon is closed. Colt stands in front of the door for a moment, waiting.

“Open, Sesame, maybe?” I say, a little more sarcastically than I intend.

He smiles down at me, undeterred. “She’s assuming you’ll agree to her idea.”

The door opens, and a petite Japanese woman steps aside to let us in. “Hello, Mr. Colt. Hello, Miss Jo,” she says. “Please come in.”

The place is lavish. The only beauty parlor I’ve ever been in was my grandmother’s. There, they all had caps on their heads, lined up in a row. The only hair colors seemed to be white-blue, silver-blue, and gray-blue.

But here, red leather chairs sit before towering mirrors. Tall, twisty plants separate the stalls. Everything gleams. In a back corner, a waiting area with plush red sofas is lit by a sea of paper globe lanterns. And parked on one of the sofas is Brittany.

“About time,” Brittany says. “Poor Kimi has had to wait while you two did” — she waves her hand in the air — “whatever it was you were doing.”

I’m trying not to seethe. “Why are you pinning this on us?”

Brittany looks at Colt questioningly. “You didn’t tell her?”

“We didn’t get that far.” Colt is amused, a smile flirting at the corner of his mouth.

“Tell me what?”

Brittany stands up slowly. She’s wearing tight black pants and a fuzzy white sweater that hugs her shape. She moves like a panther. “Do you or do you not want to stay at the gym near lover boy here?”

I’m taken aback. They’re going to let me work there? “I didn’t realize that was an option.”

“I think it’ll be okay,” Colt says. “Things will die down.” He frowns at my expression. “Or, I can find you another job.”

My mind is whirling. “Won’t someone recognize me?”

“The girl thinks!” Brittany turns to Colt. “That’s an improvement over the last one.”

“Brittany.” Colt’s voice is a warning.

“Look, Colt. We go way back. But you know I think this is a bad idea.”

“And I told you it was up to her.” Colt looks down at me. “Do you want to work there?”

“Yes,” I say. “I’m just not sure why you guys would risk it.”

“I want you there,” Colt says, and everything inside me wants to shout, YES!

Brittany groans. “Of course.” She shakes her head at Kimi. “Just like I told you.”

Kimi nods, but it’s a patronizing motion, like she knows it’s best just to agree with Brittany.

“Are we here to change my appearance?” I ask. Light is dawning.

“Bingo,” Brittany says. “They can only identify you by your hair.”

 
I reach for my ponytail. I tied it back when we got on the bike. “You mean cut it?”

At those words, Kimi comes forward and takes the end of my hair to peer at it. I’ve been trimming it myself since I’ve been on my own. She clucks in disapproval.

“Not enough,” Brittany says. “Unless you want to go super short. I could live with that. What do you think, Colt? Pixie cut?”

He shakes his head. “Leave it long.”

Brittany walks in a circle around me. “Okay, then. What color? Chestnut? Black? Be fun and go with pink or green?”

I clutch my ponytail. It’s always been a mousy brown.

“Blonde then?” Brittany asks.

I shudder to think of having hair like hers.

Brittany laughs. “I didn’t think so.” She stops next to Kimi. “What do you suggest?”

“I can do some highlights.” Kimi tugs at the strands. “She has some natural red hidden in there. Add more, maybe?”

“More red might be fun,” Colt says.

I shoot him a look.

“Or maybe just highlights.” He presses his lips together to stop from laughing.

“I know,” Brittany says in mock sympathy. “He’s supposed to love you just the way you are.” She whips around to Kimi. “Red, then.”

The next thing I know, I’m sitting in a chair and a black kimono is tied around me. “Lean back,” Kimi says.

Nobody’s washed my hair for me since I was a kid. It’s awkward enough without Brittany and Colt watching. I feel like my neck is in a vise as Kimi sprays warm water over my head.

Brittany plunks down on a red sofa to wait, but Colt stays near. He thinks the whole thing is funny. “We could give you a perm and tell everybody I kissed you so hard your hair curled.”

I try to hit him, but my elbow smacks against a cabinet, banging my funny bone.