Tough Enough (27 page)

Rogan

I feel different. As Johns slides my gloves on, I know in my gut this will be a night like no other.

I focus on the music that I’ve heard before every fight since day one. I let it bring me to the present, where it’s only me and my opponent. The pump of blood to my muscles and the burst of adrenaline through my veins. This time, my opponent is internal, though, and winning against him is more important than ever.

Above the music, I hear the
pop pop pop
of umbrellas opening all around me. I reach deep for my “The Rain” persona and I tap my fists together, throwing my hands up and dancing from foot to foot as I turn a circle and wordlessly thank my fans for showing up.

As my eyes scan the sea of mostly black umbrellas, I do a double take of the upper level of one section, my eyes stuttering over and then returning to a pink and white polka-dot umbrella. I stop and stare, trying to see past the bright lights to the face in the shadow, but I can’t. Surely it’s Katie. Isn’t it?

But then I think that, after all the commotion when I spotted her and acknowledged her at the charity fight, the new thing might be for women to bring a polka-dot umbrella. How the hell should I know?

But still, the fact that it might be starts to eat at my stomach.

I enter the cage and listen as the announcer goes through his usual spiel. I resist glancing up into the crowd again.

I walk to the center of the ring, as I’ve done dozens of time. I listen while the ref gives us our instructions, as I’ve done dozens of time. But when it comes times to tap gloves with my competitor, I don’t move. I don’t touch them; I only stare at him. I asked for this fight. People will expect a show. Maybe this will be show enough for them.

I think of how I’m going to phrase what I’m about to say. Nothing eloquent or elaborate. I’ll say the only thing I need to say. And the person who needs to understand it will understand.

The ref eyes me, as does my opponent, when I motion toward the ceiling for the drop-down mic. There’s a hushed kind of chatter that spreads through the crowd. I try to ignore it, which is much easier this time. My focus is on one person, whether she’s here or not.

When the mic drops down, I grab it and turn toward the umbrella that may or may not be hiding the woman I’m in love with. I gesture to her with my free hand and speak clearly to the waiting crowd.

“This is for you, Katie,” I begin. Then, when the place is almost silent in anticipation, I continue. “Tonight will be my last fight. I’m officially retiring.”

And then all hell breaks loose. Screams erupt, voices yell, cameras flash, and a mob of frenzied fans rushes the cage. The gate, still ajar until the fight begins, is pushed open and people rush in. Security forces their way through to my opponent and me, ushering us out of the stadium and back into the locker rooms. To safety. To calm. To the consequences.

Katie

I hit the release of my umbrella and shrink it as quickly as I can so that I can push my way through the crowd. When I get to the aisle, I run as fast as I can for the tunnel into which Rogan disappeared. When I reach a crossroads in the two main halls surrounding the arena, I spot Johns heading around a corner. He doesn’t look happy.

My lungs burn as I launch myself toward them, frantic to get to Rogan before he does something irreversible. I skitter around the concrete corner and burst through the double doors at the end of the short hall. All eyes turn toward me, but I only see one set, the only set that matters.

They are the clear green of a princess-cut emerald being held up to the light. And they are focused on me.

“Don’t do this for me,” I blurt breathlessly.

“I want to,” he says, edging his way toward me where I stand near the door. “This is me showing you that you’re the most important thing in my life.”

My heart slams against my ribs. “All you had to do was say so.”

“Words aren’t enough. You need to see that I’d do anything for you. I’d give up anything for you, I’d take on anything for you. I’d run, I’d fly, I’d fight. I’d do
anything
to prove to you that I love you. That I’ve always loved you.”

I wanted so much to hear him say it again. Just one more time. Or a million. Or every day of forever.

I feel the sting of tears. I don’t even try to hold them back this time. I’m too happy to hold them in. “I love you, too.”

His shoulders sag and he drops his head. My heart stutters in alarm as I take in his posture. He doesn’t look happy. He looks . . . defeated.

“God, Katie,” he begins softly. “I wanted you to love me. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.” He raises tortured eyes to mine. “But I knew I couldn’t give you what you needed.”

“
You
were all I needed. Only you. I thought it was the fighting. Then I thought I couldn’t get past you working with Sims. But then I got a taste of life without you, of what it feels like to truly be dying inside. That’s when I realized that I can do anything for you. That I’m tough enough to live now. Because of you. I was tough enough to stand up to the Simses. I was tough enough to fight back. And I was tough enough to come here. To you. Because you’re all that matters to me.”

“I don’t ever want you to hurt for me. Ever. You’ve been through too much.”

“I hurt for you when I’m not with you. I’ve been burned alive and I’ve never been in more pain than I was when I was without you.”

His lips curling up into a small grin, Rogan moves toward me, not stopping until I have to crane my neck to look up into his
gorgeous face. “Woman, you broke me. I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

I swallow hard, hating to think of him hurting, but at the same time loving that he was as miserable as I was. “Let’s not do that to each other again.”

He reaches up to tenderly cup my face. “Deal. Don’t ever leave me and we’ll be good.”

“Done,” I say with a smile, my heart lighter than it’s been since I was a child.

Rogan brushes his lips across my forehead, down my temple and around to the corner of my mouth. My whole body is humming in anticipation of his kiss. I feel as though I’ve been starved of it for an eternity.

But it’s not to be. A gruff voice interrupts our moment. “The cage has been cleared. Now damn it, get the hell out there and stop giving me trouble,” Johns grouches. “I can’t believe you’d pull this shit without telling me.”

Rogan leans back and grins down into my face. “See what I have to put up with?”

“Poor you,” I say. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Ask me after the fight.”

“Rogan,” I say, staring up into his eyes, as serious as I can be. “Please don’t retire because of me. Don’t make a choice like that because of—”

A long finger comes to rest across my lips, silencing me. “This part of my life is over. I’m ready to move on, to start something new. With you. Something where my body isn’t sore unless you make it sore.” The sparkle in his eyes and the smile on his lips bring a warm buzz to my muscles. My cheeks sting as I imagine Johns listening to our every word and rolling his eyes in displeasure.

“Well that’s about the best damn excuse for retiring that I’ve ever heard. Now kiss her and get your ass out into that cage,” Johns barks.

I risk peeking at him over my shoulder. He’s grinning at us—at least I think that’s what the expression is. He winks at me and then tips his head toward the door before he leaves us in a quick moment of peace.

“I love you, baby. With everything I am.”

“And I love you, my tough fighter. Now go win something.”

“I already won the best prize, but I guess I can throw in another little something for you.”

I smile as he kisses my knuckles and makes his way toward the door.

“Come back sore. I think I can help you out with working out the kinks.”

“I won’t be long,” he says, turning to jog out the door.

I’m standing in the same spot, staring at the last place I saw Rogan when the door flies open and bangs against the wall. Rogan makes his way to me in long, determined strides, takes me in his arms and kisses me for all he’s worth. My heart, my body, my soul sings with relief. I don’t know how he knew, but I needed this. Desperately.

When he has kissed me breathless, he leans back, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love your hair, by the way.”

I feel the warmth flood my cheeks. For the first time in five years, I wore it up today. It’s a loose, sexy style that I used to favor. Before. But now the only before and after I care about are before Rogan told me he loved me and after. All the many years of after. “I wanted to be tough today. For you. For me.”

“Tough looks amazing on you. I always knew it would.”

“Thank you,” I say, casting my eyes down in an old habit.

As he’s done dozens of times before, Rogan lifts my face toward his. “You never have to hide, especially from me. I love you just the way you are. Beautiful, perfect,
real.
”

“Thank you for fighting for me.”

“I never stopped.”

No, he didn’t. And he never will. He’s my fighter. My love. My Rogan.

Rogan

Five months later

“Good for you, Mona,” Katie says from her seat. I glance over to see her typing something into her phone.

“What’d she do? Use ‘onomatopoeia’ correctly?” I grin just thinking about Katie’s friend and her new love of the dictionary.

“No, she dumped White. She says she wants the dream now. I guess seeing how happy I am, how you treat me and how a good relationship works has made her see White for the cheating crapbag that he is.”

“Cheating crapbag, huh?”

She giggles and leans her head back against the seat to smile over at me. “I got tough, but my words are still . . . mild.”

“I think in this case, you could spare something a
little
tougher, don’t you?”

“Sure. Mona’s worth it,” she says, straightening. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about ‘shitbird’?”

“Yeah, White’s a shitbird!” she says enthusiastically, her eyes twinkling. “A shitty, shitty shitbird.”

I laugh outright. “God, I love you.”

Her face takes on that glow she gets when I tell her I love her. It makes me want to take her to bed and tell her over and over and over again just how much I love her.

“Damn, you’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks stain pink and she stretches across to kiss my cheek. “And you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.” She nuzzles my neck, pressing her chest against me as she rests her hand along my thigh.

“Okay, so we have two options. Either take your wicked lips and your delicious body back over to your side of the car, or stay where you are and reap the consequences.”

“What consequences are those?” she asks around a husky laugh as she rubs her tits against my shoulder.

Damn her.

“They involve me pulling off the side of the road, putting my hands up that tiny little skirt you’re wearing and probably embarrassing the shit out of you right here in front of my friend’s house.”

She turns around, wide-eyed and surprised to see that we have arrived. “I thought you were taking me to some rustic spot in the mountains,” she says as she eyes the big stone house sitting at the top of the circular end of Chiara’s drive.

“I am. We aren’t quite there yet.”

I park in front of the granite steps that lead to the front door. Tag is standing at the top of them, smiling. From the corner of my eye, I see Katie smooth her hair over her left shoulder. I shift into park and reach for her hand when it flutters back to her lap. “Don’t be nervous.”

She turns her dark blue eyes to mine. “I’m not nervous.”

“You
are
nervous. You still pull your hair around when you’re nervous.”

Her lips part like she’s going to argue, but then she just smiles sheepishly instead. “You know me too well. No fair.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Tag’s a great guy.”

She smiles around a calming breath. “He has to be a great guy. And anyone worth your time is someone I’ll love. Maybe I am a little nervous. I guess I just want him to like me because he’s important to you.”

“He’s gonna love you. The only thing you need to worry about is Tag flirting with you and getting his ass kicked. That could really compromise the weekend.”

Her lips ease into a more natural smile. “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that.”

“Good. Then just relax. This is supposed to be fun.”

“Fun business?”

“Yep. Fun business.”

I kiss her knuckles then give her lips a short peck—anything more than that always gets me in trouble—before I get out and walk to her side of the car and open her door. We walk hand in hand to meet my friend.

He descends the few steps and gives me a bear hug. When he leans back, we exchange a look that says a lot. It says we’re glad to see each other. It says we’ve been through hell together. It says we’re both happy that the threat to our group is neutralized. Yet neither of us has to say a word.

When his gray eyes flicker to Katie, I turn and put my hand at her lower back. “Tag Barton, meet Katie Rydale.”

I see his eyes sweep her appreciatively. He’s my friend and I know he means nothing by it. It’s a guy thing—checking a woman out that way. But more than that, it’s a Delta Five thing. It’s habit
now, I’m sure, for all of us to observe, to take in details, to make all kinds of mental notes. It’s part of our training.

I grit my teeth and suck it up, because he’s my friend and this is important. What I’m
not
prepared for, though, is Katie’s reaction. Her smile is small and shy, like it used to be for me, but her eyes flicker up to his and away, up to his and away. Like she can’t stop looking at him.

I don’t know why I’m surprised. Tag has always had that effect on women. With his jet-black hair, dark skin and silvery eyes, he makes quite an impression. Plus, he’s always had this air of . . . I don’t even know. Something different. But women love it, whatever it is. I guess I was just assuming that Katie would be immune to it.

“Such a pleasure to meet you, Katie. Rogan said you were beautiful, but not that you were
this
beautiful,” he says charmingly.

I watch Katie’s cheeks bloom with color as she shakes his hand. I have to ball my fists to keep from pulling her back.

But then, just before I end up doing or saying something stupid, she backs away on her own, curling into my side and winding an arm around my waist. When I look down at her, she’s already looking up at me. Her eyes are pools of sapphire and her lips are curved into a smile, the smile that she only gives to me.

This
is why I don’t have to worry.
This
is why I don’t have to be jealous. She’s as nuts over me as I am over her. We were meant to be together and no one could ever change that.

I relax instantly, bending to press my lips to her forehead before I turn my attention back to Tag. “So, where are we starting?” I ask.

Tag claps his hands and then rubs them together. It’s easy to see that he’s enjoying this. “How about a tour first and then I’ll show you to your cabin before we talk business. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” I say.

Katie thinks I’m here to look into buying a cabin, which I am. Sort of. It just so happens the cabin is part of this vineyard.

I pat my pocket as we follow Tag around the house and onto a well-worn path that leads through the trees. A small cabin is nestled at the end of it, resting in the dappled shade of a big oak. The sun is already turning red in the windows of the two dormers and I imagine that the view of it setting over the vineyard is spectacular.

Tag’s steady monologue about the vineyard and the cabin stops when he opens the door and gestures for Katie to precede him. He winks at me as I pass and then closes the door behind us, making a quiet, unobtrusive exit.

In the quiet, I hear Katie’s gasp. She’s standing in front of the small dining table with her hands over her mouth. A white cloth covers the surface. On it, two white candles are lit in silver holders and red rose petals are scattered all around it. A silver wine bucket rests on a stand to the right, holding a chilled bottle of Chiara sparkling wine. From there, a trail of red rose petals disappears into the next room.

Katie glances back at me, her eyes shimmering with the suspicion of what’s to come. I say nothing. I do nothing. I simply follow her as she follows the trail of petals.

They lead to a small bedroom. The king bed is draped in white and covered in rose petals. In the center is a pile of long-stemmed roses with a card propped in front of them. In calligraphy, it reads
Will you marry me?

I hear the soft huff of her breath. She’s crying, her hands still covering her mouth.

I step in front of her, meeting her glistening eyes, my heart pounding harder than any of my opponents ever have, and I spill my guts. “I never thought I’d meet someone who would become the focus of my world. I didn’t think love like that existed. Until a beautiful makeup artist painted her image on my heart. Every day, I wanted her more. To see her smile, to hear her laugh, to feel her
touch. One day I woke up beside her and realized that I couldn’t live without her. I could only survive. Miserably. So I tried everything I could think of to make her mine, to make her love me like I loved her. And when she did, I brought her to a vineyard, one I hope to buy for us, to tell her that I’m giving her my life. And I’m praying that she takes it. It wouldn’t be worth anything without her in it. That’s why we’re here. This is me, offering everything I’ll ever be to the person who already owns me.” I reach for her hands, taking them in mine as I sink to one knee. I’ve never cared so much about the outcome of a fight before. Because it’s been a fight. Me fighting for her, her fighting to get her life back. Each of us fighting for the other. “Will you marry me? Will you stay with me today, tomorrow and every day after that? Will you let me make you happy, keep you safe and spend my life working to give you everything you’ve ever wanted?”

She’s absolutely still. The only thing moving are the tears pouring down her cheeks. And then she nods. And then she nods again.

And then she’s in my arms. Kissing me like she can’t breathe unless her lips are touching mine. Touching me like she’s never letting go. Hanging on like she’s resisting gravity.

“I said yes before you ever told me you loved me,” she confesses tearfully, tearing her mouth away from mine. “I’ve been yours all along. And I always will be.”

It’s more than two hours—two very heated, loud hours—later when Katie, curled up against my side, asks me about the vineyard.

“Tag was raised here. His father passed away a couple of years ago and his mother is sick now, too. He wants to buy this place, not just because he’s spent most of his life here, but also because this is home for his mom, too. He wants her to be able to stay here the rest of her days, not having to worry about work. He could use an investor, and I thought it would be a good place to park some of my fighting
money. This way, we can stay in Enchantment as long as you want, whether you continue working or not.”

She turns her smile up at me. “So truly no more fighting?”

“No more fighting for me. I already have the only thing worth fighting for. I consider that a happy ending all the way around.”

“I got my fairy tale after all.”

“And I got you.”

“You certainly do,” she says, sliding up my body to plaster her lips against mine.

“I hope Tag has some ear plugs,” I say, swallowing her throaty moan. Those are the last words either of us speak for a long, long time.