Pushing the Limits (12 page)

“Wow, your brothers are pretty competitive, huh?” Dane asked as Colby handed him a beer in her family's backyard the following weekend. All week, she'd wanted to invite him to her family's annual Labor Day weekend barbecue, but she wasn't sure if it was a smart idea. She'd decided the safest thing would be not to, and then he'd surprised her by bringing it up.

“You know about that?” she'd asked, not entirely surprised. No doubt her father and brothers were planning the menu and picking football teams at work in advance.

He'd shrugged. “I've heard it mentioned. I was waiting to see if you'd invite me, but since it's tomorrow and you haven't yet . . .”

She'd grinned. “You're inviting yourself?”

“Maybe. Or maybe your dad already invited me and I said yes.”

She'd slapped his arm, then hugged him, happy to know he was the kind of guy who wanted to spend time with her family and fit in—that was important to her in a relationship. Of course, it had been tough to silence the voice in her brain screaming out the obvious—that this was something else that would make it harder to tell him the truth and the eventual heartbreak that much worse.

She watched now as Doug served a killer Ping-Pong ball toward Marshall and her brother nearly wiped out diving to return it on the table they'd moved outside from the basement for that day's family event. She laughed. “We all are. We get it from Dad.” She nodded toward the backyard where her mother and father played horseshoes and her dad was getting increasingly grumbly as her mother continued to land ringers effortlessly.

“Yet, your mom seems to be the natural athlete,” he said with a smile.

“Right. Which only fuels Dad's competitiveness.” She took his hand and walked to the edge of the pool. She sat and dipped her feet in and he sat next to her, wrapping his ankle around hers beneath the cool water. Her attempt to cool herself in the hot, early-September sun failed with him so close.

Sure, they'd had sex—a lot—but there was something even more of a turn-on about just being close to him. Inviting men to her family home was not something she did often, but even if he didn't work with her father and brothers, it really did feel like the right thing to do to have him there.

Which terrified her a little.

“When are the rest of your family members arriving?” he asked, taking a swig of his beer.

His attempt to act nonchalant was failing. She knew he was nervous as hell about meeting her aunt and uncle and grandparents.

In truth, he had nothing to worry about. Colby was the one who would get the ribbing. “They should be here any . . .” She stopped and pointed to the opening gate in the fence. “There they are now.”

Luckily neither of them had too much time to be nervous. As soon as the introductions were made, her brother announced it was time for the annual football game.

“Your grandfather is seriously playing?” Dane whispered as they made their way toward the backyard with the family.

“He's the one you have to watch for,” she said with a smile. At eighty, her grandfather was still a strong competitor. Two hip replacements in the last five years hadn't slowed him down.

His eyes widened. “This is touch football, right?”

She shook her head. “Nope,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away toward her team huddled on the opposite side of the yard.

* * *

“Why do you keep looking at me?”

Dane smiled as he reluctantly dragged his eyes away from Colby's face to stare through the windshield at the dark road ahead. “Because you're beautiful,” he said, reaching across the cab of the truck for her hand and bringing it to his lips. Her skin smelled of the early fall from the day spent outside and he couldn't wait to get where he was taking her so he could wrap his arms around her and find out if she smelled like this everywhere.

He felt himself harden and cleared his throat. “So your family . . .”

“Is crazy, I know.”

He laughed. He couldn't argue with the statement. Her eighty-year-old grandfather had tackled him effortlessly more than once during that afternoon's football game and her mother cheated at gin all evening. The noise level in the home had been off the charts when they'd all watched the soccer game on television after dinner, and it had been so different from anything he'd ever experienced that he would have expected to feel out of place and awkward. But he hadn't. He'd felt at home with her family. With her. “Crazy in a good way,” he said.

She smiled. “The best possible way.”

“You're lucky.” His gaze was locked on the road ahead now as his mind wandered to his own family. So different from hers. He knew he'd never be able to offer her the welcoming, warm inclusion from his family that she'd given him. He wondered if that was important to her. To be with someone with a similar upbringing and family life? He'd never brought any of the women he'd dated to his mother's home or to visit his father's family. He wasn't sure he could let her see where he'd come from either . . . though a part of him believed it wouldn't change anything between them. He trusted her. Trusted in what they had together already, in just a few weeks.

“Hey, where did you go?” she asked, her voice breaking into his thoughts.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking how different our families are,” he said quietly.

She turned in the seat to face him. “Were you all
ever
close? Before your dad left?”

He nodded. “I mean, not like your family, but things were better. Dad and I were really close. We were a team, and we helped each other get through Mom's tougher days. When she was taking her meds, she was more balanced and we could go months without an incident with her. She'd get a job, take care of herself, she'd be happy, and then she'd convince herself she was okay and stop taking the meds. The relapse would be even worse.”

She squeezed his hand. “That sounds like a lot to deal with as a child.”

He nodded. “It wasn't as bad with Dad around, but when he left, he took every ounce of happiness with him. Life was pretty dark after that.” He'd never told anyone so much about his family before, but he felt he could share it with her. She deserved to know what she was getting into being with him. “With me, there's no crazy, wonderful extended family or even a real chance at a relationship with anyone other than me. I want you to know that.”

“I know,” she said softly. “And that's okay. I have an amazing family . . . all I want from you is you.”

Stopping at a red light, he pulled her closer and leaned toward her, kissing her gently. She ran her hand along his thigh and he felt his cock spring to life again. She was impossible to resist. He couldn't remember the last time such a simple gesture could make him so full of need.

A car horn honked behind them and he broke away slowly, driving on.

“So, when was the last time you saw your mom?” she asked, settling back against her seat.

Hard-on gone.

“Months . . . the last time was right after the Consuelos fight.” He wasn't sure why he'd gone back home then. He'd
been full of desperation and despair and he'd been seeking comfort in any form, from anyone. He should have known he'd never find it there. And with each passing day, the call or the visit seemed more and more impossible. He knew what her reaction would be once she found out he was fighting again . . . or at least training for one more fight. Her response to him killing someone in the cage had been “I told you so.”

“Are you going to? I mean, I think maybe it might give you some closure.”

“I don't know.” He squeezed her hand. He wasn't sure a rational, heart-to-heart conversation with his mother was even possible. They'd only ever had each other after his father left, yet the codependent lifestyle had only pushed them further apart. As a child, he'd often felt neglected and alone, and as soon as he'd been able to be out on his own, he'd found comfort and security at the gym instead. Colby's family was caring, understanding, there for one another. Which was why it irritated him she insisted on lying to them. “Speaking of uncomfortable situations, when are you going to tell your family the truth?” he asked, turning the conversation around. It was easier than talking about his own fucked-up family relationship.

She shifted in the seat. “Soon,” she said quietly.

“Promise?”

She nodded.

“Okay.” For that evening, that was enough. She wasn't pushing him, he wouldn't push her. He turned the truck onto Sunset Road and a minute later pulled into the south-end parking lot near McCarran International Airport.

She smiled at him. “Wow. If you wanted to have sex, you could have asked, we didn't have to drive out to one of Vegas's most obvious make-out spots,” she teased.

He feigned innocence. “I can't believe you assume I brought you here to have sex with you.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You didn't?”

“No!” Well, not yet, at least. “Come on,” he said, grabbing a blanket from the backseat and jumping down from the truck.

She climbed out and after he spread the blanket on the hood, he lifted her onto it. Climbing up next to her, he wrapped an arm around her and lay back, letting her head rest on his chest. “I used to come here all the time.”

She lifted her head to shoot him an eyebrow-raised look.

He gently pushed her back down. “Get your mind out of the gutter for three minutes. I liked watching the planes take off. It reminded me of my dad. I guess it made me feel closer to him.” The noise also helped quiet his overactive thoughts,
which were too often troubled. He would lie there for hours on the hood of whatever piece-of-crap beater he had at the time, and some nights, he'd fall asleep there. There was no one to care that he hadn't come home. No one to question where he'd been or worry about him.

A plane stopped on the runway and she repositioned her head to watch, as the propellers started to spin and the plane headed down the runway, picking up speed and taking off what seemed like just inches above their heads. Her eyes widened and his own gaze was locked on her pretty face and not on the plane. “That was kind of fantastic,” she said, snuggling closer once the plane disappeared.

“You're kind of fantastic. A lot fantastic, in fact,” he said, wishing he could be less of a wuss around her. He wore his heart on his sleeve, leaving himself open and vulnerable to more damage. He was showing all his cards . . . but he trusted her.

She leaned on his chest and kissed him. “You're not so bad yourself, when you're not trying to get into my pants,” she said with a grin.

“Oh, I'm always trying to get into your pants,” he said, pulling her up on top of him. “I just thought we'd watch at least one plane take off first.”

* * *

Walker tapped against his leg as Dane tightened the choke hold he'd secured effortlessly in the cage at the gym the next day. He was a stand-up fighter, but Mendez was a submission specialist, so Tyson had him training Muay Thai at least three hours a day. And it was paying off. He released the hold and Walker stood.

“I only tapped 'cause your girl was watching,” he said, grabbing his towel.

“I'll be sure to return the favor sometime,” Dane said, deciding not to call bullshit. Walker, like Tyson, had welcomed him back to the gym with no judgment or pressure. And being the best middleweight fighter in Tyson's camp, Walker was the best opponent for him to train with.

Dane climbed out of the cage and walked toward Colby where she was indeed watching. “So, what do you think?”

She shrugged. “Not bad.”

Wow, that was a blow to the ego. “Just not bad? I submitted the best middleweight in the league.”

“It was fine.”

He took a gulp of water. “Fine? What was wrong with it?”

“It was . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind, it was great.”

Walker passed them and waved. “I'm heading out. You'll lock up?”

Dane nodded to Walker, then turned his attention back to her. “Colby . . . tell me.”

“It was a messy attempt at a submission. I saw three opportunities where you left yourself open. A better submission specialist like Mendez would totally have capitalized on any one of them,” she said.

Sometimes he hated that she was a black belt in Karate and had studied grappling with her brothers. “Oh, really?”

“Really.”

His eyes danced over her. She was wearing leggings and a tank top. Perfect. “Okay then, smartass, climb into the cage.”

She shook her head. “I don't want to make you feel bad about yourself. You need your confidence for the fight.”

He bent low, and grabbing her behind the knees, he tossed her over his shoulder.

She laughed as he carried her inside the cage. “Okay, you asked for this humiliation,” she said when he set her down.

“Bring it.” He moved into position and waved her forward.

She moved around him on the mat, shooting in, then stepping back, looking for her opportunity.

The look of intense focus on her face was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, and he let his guard down the slightest bit.

She moved in, wrapped her arms low around his hips, and drove her body forward, using his strength against him as she threw him to the mat.

Shit. She'd made that seem easy enough. Maybe he wasn't ready to fight Mendez. Had Walker been serious when he'd said he'd allowed Dane to submit him moments before?

Damn, he had to get to work. Grabbing her waist, he rotated the two of them, until he took the mount. “For someone so tiny, you're freakishly strong,” Dane said, pinning her to the mat with his hip, letting his weight rest on her lower body. He'd never admit it had actually taken a lot more effort than he would have thought to take her down.