“Shut. Up.” My powerful response surprises even me.
“What? Why?” He’s genuinely confused which only endears me to him more.
“Oh, no, I just mean . . . shut up . . . like . . . no way . . . My twenty-first birthday is September fifteenth.”
“Wow, twenty-first. That’s a big one. I remember my twenty-first.” His eyes search the rafters, concentrating. “Actually, I don’t.” Shrugging one shoulder, he smirks. “I heard it was great though.” He runs a hand through his hair with a shy grimace that I find completely sexy.
I fold the greasy shop towel. “How long ago was your twenty-first?”
His eyes narrow on mine. “Raven, are you trying to ask me how old I am?”
Heat warms my neck, rising up to color my cheeks.
“Five years ago. I’m twenty-six.” Comfortable silence fills the air. “Anyway, you should come to the fight. I’ll get you a ticket. Call it an early birthday present.”
“I’d love that. Thanks.”
Jonah
Thirty minutes with the heavy bag didn’t make a dent in my attempt to exorcise Raven from my head. I thought for sure that spending time with her this morning would work in my favor. Figured if I got to know her better, I’d realize she’s just like other girls. I was wrong.
From the moment she walked into my house to the moment she walked out, she held my rapt attention. Usually when women start talking I zone out, but this girl said things I wanted to hear. She talked about cars like they were family. It was captivating. If that weren’t enough, working together was a breeze. We fell into easy conversation and comfortable silences, as if she were one of the guys—well, one of the guys in a supermodel package. Damn. What a package. Even the garage, with its twenty-foot ceilings, felt small with her in it. No matter how far away I would move, her perfect body seemed too close. Thank God I had to get to training or I’d probably fallen to my knees and begged her to have dinner with me.
This isn’t good. With the title fight coming up, I can’t afford any distractions. Maybe I should put the restoration on hold until after the fight. That should give me time to forget about her. Or maybe I should pull my shit together and stop acting like some teenager with perma-wood.
I can’t blow her off now. I promised her tickets to my fight, and I can’t go back on a promise. Comfort washes over me at the thought of looking out from the octagon on the biggest fight of my life and seeing Raven standing in my corner. This shit is not cool. I’ll get one of the guys to give me a thorough ass kicking before I leave for being such a pansy.
But pansy or not, I’m drawn to her by some unseen force. Everything from my thoughts to my dick gravitates in her direction. Like getting caught in a rip tide, one minute I’m swimming, free to go in any direction, and then I feel a tug. I’m kicking and flailing my arms and legs toward shore while the invisible pull takes me in the opposite direction. No matter how hard I swim, I keep going further and further out to sea.
Yeah, that’s how it is with Raven. One minute I’m free, navigating the waters of my life, and, now, I feel a tug.
“What’s up, man? Where is everyone?” Rex calls as he makes his way to the mats to warm up.
“They should be here.” I answer absently, still trying to pull my head out of my ass. “Yo, T-Rex. You missed a couple.” I motion to my eyebrow and lip.
“Shit, man. Thanks.” Rex removes the small barbell from his eyebrow and ring from his lip and places them on the bench.
I stretch my arms and roll my neck. “Where’s Caleb?”
“He’s here, just wrapping his ankle in the locker room.” Rex motions over his shoulder where I see Caleb making his way to the mats.
“Y’all talkin’ about me?” Caleb’s telltale, country-boy accent echoes off the walls. Owen sneaks up behind him, and smacks the back of his head. “Ow, dick!”
Owen ignores Caleb’s pained remark. “You done wrapping your ankle, sweetheart?”
Caleb rubs the back of his head.
“You guys get warmed up, and we’ll break into teams for grappling.” Owen’s order is all business. He’s one of the best coaches in MMA, and when he gets down to it, he doesn’t f**k around.
“You bitches ready to get your asses handed to you?” Blake strolls toward the mats. Late.
The group grumbles and throws back a number of different taunts and insults before we pair off and take our places. This title fight is an accumulation of everything I’ve been working for since I started fighting. It’s the single biggest accomplishment of my life. And I’ll be damned if a girl is going to rob me of my goal. Never.
A few hours into training and I’m breathing deep. Sweat coats my skin, proving without question that I worked hard. I welcome the burn of my muscles and the flood of endorphins that blur the thoughts of a certain female.
Owen calls time. “Take five and we’ll hit the bags.”
We all grab our waters and stretch on the floor.
Caleb flops down next to me lying flat on his back. “Where are we watching the game this weekend?”
“Not my place.” I swig from my water bottle.
“Jonah’s it is.” Owen decides for the group.
I scowl at him and contemplate sweeping his legs. “The f**k you say?”
He shrugs in my direction.
Blake’s standing, grabbing his ankle to stretch his quad. “Sweet. I’ll bring the pizza.”
“I’ll get the beer.” Rex’s voice calls out from behind me.
“Shit, no. I said not at my place.”
Caleb nods to Rex. “Game starts at three so we should be there by two.”
“Fucking a**holes.” It’s like I’m not even here.
Rex’s dumb ass looks right past me. “Don’t forget, I have a show that night. Sound check’s at seven. Ghost Bar. We can all head over to the club after the game.”
“You guys want me to bring the Wii?” Caleb puts on his gloves, his eyes darting from dickhead to dickhead, overlooking me.
“No. No f**king Wii.” What started as watching a game at my house has turned into a party, and knowing these guys, they’ll stay all weekend.
“Oh come on, Vajonah.” Blake’s cocky smile makes me clench my fist. “You worried we might dirty your kitchen?” He lifts one eyebrow.
I spear him with a glare. As if one douche bag giving me shit isn’t enough, I don’t need the group giving me a hard time.
“All right, fine. But no pizza. I’ll throw something on the grill. I can’t eat that shit this close to the fight.” Defeated and pissed as hell, I strap on my gloves.
“If you’re going to grill, I’ll bring Nikki. She can whip up some healthy shit in the kitchen and sit by the pool.”
Owen’s wife Nikki is a nutritionist and kicks all kinds of ass in the kitchen. That alone makes this worth it.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll bring some girls so Nik will have chicks to hang out with.” The group goes still, staring at Blake. “What?”
Everyone knows the kind of girls Blake keeps company with. I’m not interested in having a bunch of jock-sniffing groupies around, and Blake travels with a f**king harem.
Owen looks at Blake, a grin pulling at his lips. “This should be interesting.”
Blake glares at Owen. “That was a long time ago, man. You two weren’t married yet.”
“Nah, but Nikki sure didn’t appreciate your bitches rubbing up on my shit.” Owen laughs and shrugs.
“How can you laugh?” Blake throws his arms out to his sides. “Nik broke that chick’s nose.”
Owen’s laughter answers Blake’s question.
I cross my arms at my chest. “I don’t want a house full of your knob polishers.”
“Hey, a player needs lovin’ too.”
“No more than two, Blake. I’m serious,” I warn.
“Yeah, I got it.” He dismisses me with a wave of his hand.
He doesn’t get it.
I tilt my head, feeling the side of my lip curl into a smile. “Say it, Blake. Say, ‘I promise, Jonah, I won’t bring more than two chicks to your barbeque’.”
Blake’s eyes narrow. “Are you f**king serious? I said I got it.”
“Say it.”
“Shit. Fine. I won’t bring more than two chicks to your barbeque.” Blake’s jaw is so tight I’m surprised he doesn’t bust a tooth. This guy is so easy to mess with.
“You forgot, ‘I promise, Jonah’.”
Umpf!
My breath is knocked from my lungs as Blake tries to take me down to the mat . . . unsuccessfully.
Four
Raven
It’s day three working on the Impala: seventeen hours and thirty-eight minutes to be exact. I keep track of the hours spent at Jonah’s for my time card, not because I mark every minute with him, committing it to memory so that when my work here is done I have something to remind me of our time together.
I’ve got the engine out and apart. Going through it piece by piece, I set aside the things that can be salvaged while Jonah disassembles the inside. Perched at a workbench, I sort through the motor brackets.
Out of the few restorations I’ve done over the years, this one is by far the best: high-end tools at my disposal, clean working environment, great company . . . and the view. Like the one I have right now.
Jonah is lying on his back across the front seat of the car, his head underneath the dashboard. His t-shirt slid up, exposing a few inches of his firm stomach. A strip of dark hair trails from his belly button and disappears beneath his saggy jeans. His strong legs are open in a V to brace his weight against the floor.
“Ouch, gosh dang it!” I grab my bloody finger, more worried about bleeding on Jonah’s stuff than the extent of my injury.
“You okay?” Jonah rises from his sexy pose and stands across the workbench from me, worry etched on his perfect face.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Stupid rusty bracket.” I move to stick my finger in my mouth when he grabs my hand.
“No, don’t do that. Germs.”
Heat rises up my neck and into my face. “Oh, you’re right.” I rub my forehead, hoping that I can cover my embarrassment with my free hand. “Mouths are dirty.”
He lifts his gaze from my wound, but I avoid his eyes. “Not germs from your mouth. Germs from your hand. Who knows what kind of shit is living on that thing.” He motions to the offending bracket. I peek up at him and watch a smile tug at his lips. “From what I can tell, you have a very clean mouth.” He flashes one dimple, before his gaze drops to my lips.
I roll them together, wetting them with my tongue. My chest rises and falls in erratic bursts and heat floods my body.
“I’ve got something for that.” The deep timbre of his voice draws me closer until I’m leaning toward him over the workbench.
I swear the man could bed any woman with one look. He releases my hand to walk to the nearby cabinets. I slump forward, bolstering myself against the tabletop to keep upright.