ROMANCE: MENAGE ROMANCE: Tapped and Taken by Two (Pregnancy Sports MMA UFC Fighter Romance) (Alpha Male Romance) (27 page)

I opened my mouth but choked on the words, my throat tight with panic. I swallowed hard.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out.

“I see,” Derek said, his tone void of discernible emotion.

A part of me wanted to just run out of the cafe. But I knew that if I left, I really wouldn’t see him again.

“Can you please sit down? I’d like to explain.”

Anger flashed across his face, as if he was disgusted that I’d even suggest wasting his time. But then something else shimmered underneath. He sat down. I sat down.

He wasn’t slouching, but the slight hunch in his shoulders provided enough contrast to tell me that he must be in shock. I couldn’t tell if he was ready to leave or blow up at me. And I couldn’t tell if he sat down because he was actually curious and cared, or because he was humoring me.

I sipped at my tea and found my gaze wandering to the window. The massive Christmas tree lights warm in the background and the people passing by looking more full of holiday cheer than stress. I wondered if I made the right decision, asking Derek to meet me here tonight. If there was a graceful way to bridge the conversation, I feared I already lost it.

“How far along are you?”

I bit my lip and forced my eyes to meet his face. “Thirty weeks.”

I could see him doing the math in his head. His eyes widened, then narrowed.

“Yes, it’s yours,” I said hastily. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you in email. I thought this kind of thing was best to say in person.”

He leaned back in his chair, shock setting in but thoughts unreadable. I wished I could peer into his head. Then he suddenly stood up and my heart felt like it had just been jerked like a dog on a leash.

“I need a minute,” he said. “It was a long flight and I need a coffee. Hang on.”

He went to the counter without another word. There was no confidence in his steps. None of the charisma he usually carried swirling around him. He looked lost, as if he had just been shaken from a deep dream. He clumsily bumped into an older lady pouring cream into her coffee.

I had messed up. I screwed up and now ruined any chance of us having even the most casual of friendships. He was expecting a normal meeting: catching up over coffee and possibly revisiting the fling we had. Now I threw on him the weight of being a father. I should have told him. I should have prepared him.

As Derek moved from the till to the pick-up side of the counter, he looked over his shoulder. It was just enough for our eyes to meet. We locked gazes for just a second, our eyes drawn to each other with a soft, magnetic pull. I felt something there, in the way he looked at me. I couldn’t place my finger on what it was, but I was sure that if it was hate, I’d know. My legs felt suddenly weak, even though I was sitting.

When he returned to the table, I couldn’t help but smile at the iceberg of chocolate floating in his drink that I could swear was even bigger than before. Our eyes found each other again and I thought I saw a twinkle breaking through the emptiness his eyes. A tingling warmth spread through my body.

“I thought you were on the pill,” he said.

“I was, but obviously it’s not one-hundred percent successful,” I said, gnawing the inside of my lip.

He looked about to speak, but hesitated, his gaze falling down to the table.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s yours. I haven’t been with anyone since you…”

He sighed, the relief in his breath tangible, and gave me a slight smile.

“I just wanted you to know, that’s all,” I said. I stared at the grain of the table. “And I’m sorry, I should have, but I couldn’t tell you in email. I’m ready to be a single mom though, I’ve got this. And I’m not asking you for any money. I just needed to tell you.” My voice began to quiver as I continued, “So, you can just go on with your life. I’m not expecting anything. It’s okay. I know that maybe this didn’t mean anything to you, but I don’t regret it. And—”

He put his hand on mine.

“I don’t regret a moment with you either,” he said.

I looked up at him and realized the edges of my vision were a little blurry. I felt like I wanted to say more, but I was suddenly speechless.

“I’ve missed you, Claire. I’ve thought about you every moment since I’ve been gone.” He leaned back and rubbed his face with his hands. “Wow. This is…a lot.”

I stared at him for a moment. “I’ve thought about you too,” I said when his words finally sunk in. “After the way things were left after our last night together, I wasn’t sure telling you about the baby was the right thing to do. I thought I’d never see you again.”

His upper lip curled into his mouth and he held his chin in his hand. After a moment he said, “I’m sorry I had to go. I could’ve stayed for at least a little while that morning, but I was scared. Scared of what I felt and scared of what I was going to face overseas. Scared of never coming back to see you again. I never felt such a… connection with someone in such a short amount of time. And with me leaving, I thought you’d move on and—” He took my hand in his.

“Oh, Claire,” he went on, his voice coming out a little strained but his eyes smiling. “I’ve thought about the way your hair smells, the feel of your fingers against my skin, how you shot me during paintball—“

“That was an accident.”

“Yes, it was.” He chuckled. “It practically killed me to be away for so long. I thought if I limited our contact, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But it was worse.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing and my eyes were beginning to water again. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?”

“Because it sounds ridiculous. What do you say? Love at first sight? That’s not supposed to happen.” He gave my hand a small squeeze. His palm was a little moist, but I revelled in the warmth of his fingers wrapped about mine. “I was naive and—in denial. I never felt this way about a woman before. But while I was gone, I realized I couldn’t live without trying.”

Derek suddenly stood up and pulled me to stand with him. Sidestepping the table, he drew me close with one hand around the swell of my stomach. My heart thudded in my chest and I could feel my cheeks redden.

“When I first saw your message to come meet you when I landed today, I was worried you had found somebody else,” he said. “And although this is a surprise and will take some getting used to…” His mouth spread into a huge grin. “I’m actually… more surprised at how relieved I was when you said it was mine.”

I wiped away a tear at the edge of my eye.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” he continued. “But I know that I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”

I tried to open my mouth to reply, but I was so overwhelmed with joy that I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I smiled at him, teary-eyed and all.

“Oh—” He dug into his coat pocket. “I have something for you. Consider it an early Christmas present.”

He handed me a small red box tied with gold ribbon.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and looked up into his eyes. Were they also watering? Just a little bit?

“Really?” I asked.

He nodded.

I undid the gold ribbon and pulled off the lid.

As I drew away a cover of tissue paper, all the breath escaped from my lungs.

Laying on a bed of white was my bracelet. The one I thought I had misplaced or lost altogether. For a split second I was incredibly confused and thought it couldn’t possibly be my bracelet. But then I looked closer and there was no mistaking it. The pearls and copper looked polished, and the—the clasp. It was fixed! I turned the bracelet over in my hand, holding it up close to my face. The embossed design matched perfectly, and it looked just as aged at the rest of the piece.

I stared up at Derek, eyes wide. “How did you…?”

His smile made my heart soar.

“I had found it outside my building,” he said. “I wanted to fix it before returning it to you…”

“But how? I mean—thank you!—but how?”

“I wanted to take a piece of you with me, but I felt weird for having it since it was so important to you. My only plan was to get it back to you. If that meant I did it myself or…” his eyes grew dark again, “or you know...somebody else would have to.”

He waved the thought aside. “It’s not important. I’m just glad I am finally able to return it. Can I put it on you?”

I held out my wrist.

His fingers lingered against my skin as he secured it around my wrist.

“There,” he said. “It looks like it’s where it belongs.”

I looked into his eyes and felt his being draw me towards him. I breathed deep and it felt like I was breathing a part of him again.

He placed a hand at the side of my face and kissed me. It was sweet, short kiss, but one of depth. My heart skipped a beat and I pressed my hand against his chest. I could feel his heart thud just as heavy as mine.

This time I kissed him back in a full embrace, and our passion reignited. The warmth of him, of this promise and potential, all of it radiated throughout my entire body. I could feel the heat from his hands, and his chest, and his heart; and from the steaming coffee on the table he still hadn’t drank.

I felt like I was floating and the lights from the Christmas tree outside were buzzing all around us like fireflies. The music that played out over the cafe’s speakers faded away into the background din, then disappeared entirely. It was replaced with the music of hope, and joy, and love. And Derek and I were the only audience.  

~The End~

Bad Boy Desire “Luke”

I can tell from the way the manager keeps looking at me that he thinks I have no idea what any of this equipment is for. He definitely has me pegged as some dumb blonde only looking for a job where I can get discount yoga classes. Even if it’s been a while since I’ve been to the gym, I at least know what the machines are called. There’s no need for him to just assume, but I can’t bring myself to blame him. I look down to my bright blue running shorts and my matching running shoes. I probably look like a joke to someone way more serious about their fitness.

I can remember, back in the early days of college, I used to be so athletic. I would hit the gym three times a week: two days of cardio and one for strength training. I remember being able to count my abs. I let a hand slip down to discreetly poke at the layer of fat covering what had once been a well-maintained core. That had been many years and many final exam stress-binges ago. I decide that I need to start doing sit-ups again as soon as possible.

“Are you still with me, Anna?” he asks. He’s all booming voice and neck muscles. Probably a personal trainer. My eyes find the nametag pinned to his chest: Dwight. Names have never been my strong suit, but I decide quickly that I wouldn’t forget his. I nod politely to answer him, keeping my expression attentive as he starts going over protocol for the dead lift weights and bars.

I guess it doesn’t really matter. He’s only showing me around as a formality. I’ll be working at the front desk, and it’s not like any of the members would single me out to get pointers on weight lifting; not with my thin arms and slender figure.

As if he could read my thoughts, Dwight sighs quickly and his voice gets a bit softer. “Look,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I know that you won’t be using this stuff, and if the world worked a bit better, other clueless idiots wouldn’t touch it either. But a lot of the time, clueless idiots
do
pick this stuff up and they either hurt themselves or they break shit. It gets expensive. I need you to know when to tell someone to stop and have someone else teach them how to use the equipment. Got it?”

I give him a quick thumbs up. “Sure thing, boss.”

He gives me a once over, and I can tell that he hasn’t made up his mind about me yet. He does gently squeeze my shoulder before letting go and continuing with his lecture about proper equipment use. It feels friendly enough, like he was an uncle that I don’t see more than twice a year. I wonder if I might have been too quick to judge. Dwight doesn’t seem like the typical muscle-bound meat head, though he certainly looks the part. His biceps look to be thicker than my thighs and could probably support about three times my bodyweight.

I shake my head to clear it. The first day on the job is no time to get distracted, especially by anything to do with my new boss. I follow after him as he continues walking me through the tour. It doesn’t seem to be anything too special. There’s the pool area and some rooms for group classes and lessons, and separate rooms for weight training and cardio machines. I all but swoon over the rock wall that takes up the entire south wall of the facility and goes up three stories. I haven’t done any climbing since my early days in school and I miss it fiercely. My fingers itch to feel the textured plastic of the fake rocks again. I don’t let my pace slow too much as I trail behind Dwight. He’s talking about the rest of the work that all the employees pitch in to get done.

“We all have to keep up with the towel situation. Gym policy is to provide all members with clean towels to use, which can be a pain in the ass,” he said, a vein starting to bulge out of his temple. “Lots of people just leave them lying around places. Just, whenever you get a chance, take a walk through and pick up any of ‘em that you see and pitch ‘em in the bins. There’s one by every door, so you’d think it’d be easy enough for…” He trails off and gives an embarrassed little cough. “Just, if you see any, put them in the bin.”

“Towels in bins. Anything…else…?” I can’t help but get distracted this time. Underneath the stairwell, there’s a small ring set up like a boxing arena, but it’s an octagon rather than a square. Inside, two men are beating the living hell out of each other. I probably wouldn’t have noticed at all, if not for the crowd growing around the stairwell and on the walkway above. They’re getting all riled up by something going on in there, and the curiosity gets the better of me.

My entire face must be a question, because without even asking, Dwight says, “Ah, looks like Stark’s got another victim. Care to watch?”

Violence for the sake of violence has never really appealed to me, but something in Dwight’s tone convinces me that this is something that I want to see. I nod, and we walk over to join the crowd. We’re not the only ones. People flock over to gawk at the spectacle.

And what a spectacle it is. Two men in shorts and gloves circle each other, and there’s the distinct smell of testosterone in the air. They’re both somewhere between twenty and thirty, and both are drenched in sweat. Both men step close, and one throw a sweeping punch towards the other’s head, but misses as the other man leans back to kick the first in the ribs. The puncher takes the hit easily, pulling back to circle around and throw an elbow directly into the kicker’s kidney.

“Luke Stark,” Dwight says, pointing to the puncher as the other man buckles and falls to his knees. “One mean son of a bitch. He keeps it in the ring, though. Never met anyone so polite.”

“Luke…Stark…”

It isn’t the violence of the event that draws me in, but I can’t help but appreciate when someone seems to be doing exactly what he wants, and I could have watched for hours. Luke’s tan arm extends to connect a punch straight into his opponent’s jaw. His muscles aren’t bulky like Dwight’s, but they’re by no means small. They have such distinct shape that I wouldn’t call him wiry, but he’s a good deal smaller than his opponent, a hulking bear of a man. From the blood on his face, it looks like Luke’s taken his fair share of punches, but he still seems to be winning. His grin seems to imply as much.

“Luke does most of his training here. He’s nice enough, but I’ve heard some talk that he might be involved in some underground fighting. Probably best to stay clear of all that,” Dwight says. He gestures for us to move on with the tour, and I follow after him, taking one last look over my shoulder at the dark-haired fighter. There’s a tattoo on his left shoulder, but he won’t stay still long enough for me to figure out exactly what it is. It could be a Celtic knot, or maybe some kind of tribal band.

The image of Luke dodging around his opponent in the ring stays with me all day, even when I take my place behind the reception desk and make casual small talk with my co-worker there, Justin. He’s a bit younger than me, and does his chemistry homework after showing me the basics of the computer system. I don’t much mind, as my thoughts insist on wandering back to that fight. And it isn’t like the job is mentally taxing; I swipe membership cards and the system tells me if they’ve paid their fees or not. It’s January, so there are still plenty of people pouring in to keep up with their New Year’s resolutions. I find myself uncharitably thinking that things will slow down a lot in the upcoming weeks, but for now, I’m glad for the distraction.

‘I’ve really got to stop thinking about that fighter,’
I tell myself as I get my things ready to go.

“Don’t forget to do a walk through,” Justin reminds me as I pull the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “Gotta’ get those towels under control.” The sardonic tone makes me laugh as much as the jaded look on his face. I remember college being pretty rough; apparently that’s still the case for Justin.

As I wind my way through the facility at a more leisurely pace than before, I notice a few things that I hadn’t on my whirlwind tour with Dwight. For one thing, the gym is spotless. Everything looks so meticulously cared for that I have to wonder what kind of magical janitorial staff works here.

‘If they’re working this hard, I guess picking up a few towels is the least the rest of us can do,’
I think, pulling a grossly damp towel from the seat of a stationary bike. I make a note to check out the showers at some point. They’re probably cleaner than my entire apartment.

I shake my head and continue on my way. There are more instruction rooms than I remembered from Dwight’s whirlwind tour that morning, and they all seem to be empty. Most have large windows to make the whole room visible from the hallway, but there are a few that are entirely private. I make a mental note of where those rooms are, in case I need to duck away from work for a few minutes.

‘Or whatever else I would need privacy for,’
I think with a sly smile. As it is, even with the ring fighter fresh in my mind, that sort of thing doesn’t sound appealing in the least. I’ve been in a good place recently, but that’s only due to a lot of effort and healing. There was a rough patch a few months back, fallout from my breakup with Sam. He was what I thought I wanted, with a collection of qualities that I’d told myself I was looking for. Little by little, it became clear that he had a rather serious drinking problem. It drove us apart, ruining a relationship of almost two years.

‘I just need time to sort out my feelings,’
I think, shaking my head.
‘Dating is the furthest thing from my mind right now, and I need casual sex even less.’

I meander back towards the entrance, waving goodbye to Dwight. He’s jogging on one of the treadmills, staring intently at the heart rate monitor on the console, so I doubt that he sees me. It’s still early enough in the day that I don’t have to worry about the lack of lighting in the parking lot, but I do decide that any time I stay late, I’ll have Dwight or somebody walk me out.
‘Better safe than sorry.’
Maybe I’m just too nervous for my own good, but being vigilant rarely ever got anyone into trouble.

With the thought that the day had been plenty of excitement, I drive myself back to the apartment that I share with my best friend, Monica. She’s always good for a laugh, and I find that I can’t wait to tell her about this mysterious Stark guy. Of course, when I walk through the door, Monica’s already dressed to go out. Her low cut dress shows off her wealth of cleavage, and the bright yellow of it makes an amazing contrast against her dark brown skin. Her lips are stained a deep plum, and I’ll never know how she does her contouring to show off her magnificent cheekbones, but they look as perfect as ever.

“How was your first day?” she asks, fiddling with one of her earrings and staring at herself in the mirror.

“Oh, you know,” I say. I know she’s only asking to be polite and that there will be plenty of time to talk about Stark and everything else later. “Job’s a job.”

Monica frowns and tweaks her hair to sit more securely in place. “That’s no way to think,” she says. “Positive, Anna! You gotta’ think positive!” She winks at her reflection and then turns to me. “Am I good?”

“Flawless,” I say. She ducks in close to me and kisses the air beside my cheeks.

“I won’t be long. Promise.”

“I won’t wait up,” I reply.

She laughs. Her purse is in her hand and she’s out the door in a flash. I smile vacantly after her. Same old Monica, always in a hurry. I hang my keys on the hook by the door. Monica brought in the bills and left them in a pile on the kitchen table, and I flip through them with a groan. I’m already late getting my rent to Monica. She told me not to worry about it, to just pay her when I can, but I worry anyway. I’ve been trying so hard to not be a burden while I get my life back on track. Breaking up with Sam had taken its toll, and I’d lost most of my friends, my job, and more. Maybe this job is what I need to turn things around.

I find myself wishing once again that I had done the reasonable, responsible thing and gone to trade school, but no, I had insisted on pursuing a major in art history. Even knowing that it was inevitable that I would find myself in the sort of situation I’m in now, I had forced my way into the program and stuck with it, and now I have my degree for all the good it does hanging on my wall, reminding me of all of my debt.

And with that, all my stress comes flooding back. It always does when I think about my finances, though that’s all I can really think about these days. My head drops back and I let out a long groan. I can feel the telltale signs of a stress headache building up behind the bridge of my nose, and I decide that maybe a bath will help calm me down and let me relax.

I head over to my bedroom and stretch my arms high above my head, rolling my neck to try to alleviate some of the tension forming there. Knowing how much I love taking baths, Monica let me have the room with the attached bathroom because it came with a gorgeous claw-foot tub. I trace a finger over the cool porcelain as I start the water running. I wait for it to get scalding hot before putting down the stop. I like to resemble a cooked crab by the time I get out of the bath.

As the tub fills, my mind wanders back to that fight. Watching Luke in the ring, he looked more like a dancer than a fighter. His body moved with such grace, he had such complete control over every tiny motion; I can’t help but wonder if he had choreographed the fight, if he had practiced that specific set of movements over and over, or if it had only been his instincts paired with intense amounts of skill and training. It’s easy to see why people would think that fighting like that could be fake, but the determination in his face was so different than the expression of a man trying to remember the right steps. He had stared down the other man, reading into his movements, reacted, circled around, fully committed to the fight. The dance.