Strong and Steady

I reached out, tugged her back, so she bumped into me. “No. I’m… it just sounded like you were including me in your family, and it was… nice.”

She offered me a smile, a soft one, filled with what looked a whole lot like… love. “Good.”

Was that what this was? Was that what I felt for her? Love? Did she feel the same way? She was the most important thing in the fucking world to me, but love? I had no clue what love was. It was like trying on a suit and seeing if it fit. With Emory, she fit—we fit—perfectly. “Emory, I—”

Her cell rang then mine only a few seconds later.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“I bet that’s Christy.”

“Which means that’s Paul on my phone.” I didn’t hide the irritation from my voice. Emory was kissing me. She was kissing me. She was being the pursuer, and I liked it. A lot.

“They don’t know we’re together. Together as in you and me.” She pointed between us. “And also as in the same room.”

I knew what she was saying. Did we want to keep us a secret or tell? I angled my chin. “Go. Answer it. I’ll take my call in the other room.”

Two hours later, I was pushing the speed limit on the highway, not wasting any time getting up to Wyoming, to the casino. I knew exactly where he was, on the closest reservation to the ranch. The closest place to gamble. When Emory told Christy what had happened the night before at her house, she'd pulled Paul into the conversation. Emory had made me sit down beside her on the bed, and we talked to the couple by speakerphone. If they were surprised we were together, they didn't let on.

Yes, someone had been in her house.

Yes, she was fine.

Yes, it could be my dad who was behind it all.

I had to face him. Emory agreed, but there was no fucking way I was letting her anywhere near him. This was an old score I needed to settle, and she’d only distract me. She understood, but Paul had even more and offered to have Emory hang with them for the day. Until we knew exactly what was going on, I wasn't leaving her alone.

I passed an eighteen-wheeler when my cell rang. I pushed the button for the handheld. “Green.”

“They’re painting their toenails.” Paul said. “She’s safe here.”

“Thanks. I just passed Cheyenne. Once I find him, it won’t take long.” I gripped the steering wheel. Hard. “I should be back before dinner.”

“Do what you have to. We’ll be waiting.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’d do the same.”

I would. I might just be Paul's trainer, but we were friends, too. Friends who watched out for each other. In the MMA world, it went unsaid, everyone knew no one messed with family. There was always a rivalry, shit talk, some fighters who fought dirty. That shit stayed at the gym, stayed in the ring. No man took it home with him. Fights could be resolved with fists, with words, but no one fucked with someone’s woman. With their kids. My dad had crossed the line, and I needed to shut that shit down.

Now I knew what Paul had been telling me all along while he trained with me. Between sparring rounds or miles on the treadmill, he'd told me more and more about Christy, and I’d seen him change. He became… more. He wasn’t pussy whipped either. Christy was perfect for Paul, and I knew she was everything to him. Everything.

Just like Thor. He would do anything for Laura, even buy a toilet brush. I understood now. Emory was everything to me, and I’d even go buy a fucking toilet brush for her. With her. If that wasn’t a sign I was in love, I didn’t know what was.

21

EMORY

* * *

I had cotton balls wedged between my toes as I sat on Christy’s couch. Paul worked at the kitchen table, papers spread out before him, and he had his phone set to mute as he listened in on a conference call. They were babysitting me. It was obvious. A pedicure was just something to do to pass the time. I didn’t think I needed to stay indoors and under supervision until this whole house break-in thing was resolved, but if it eased Gray’s mind, I’d do it until he got back from Wyoming. If he were watching me, we would be busy doing more… enjoyable things.

I could feel my cheeks flush just thinking about what we’d done together, and I darted a glance at Christy, who was fortunately leaning forward and putting a top coat of polish on her right foot. I was sore in places I forgot even got sore. I wasn’t a virgin, but the way my body ached, I had probably reverted back to one. The way I felt with Gray was nothing, nothing, like it had been with Jack. If I’d known what I’d been missing, I’d have divorced Jack years earlier. But then I wouldn’t have met Gray. It seemed that he appeared just when I was ready for him. Was I ready for him? Was one ever ready for love?

“You must have been so scared,” Christy whispered. Paul could be heard talking about some kind of brief from the other room. I could talk medical emergencies and the science behind a specific drug, but torts and legalese were over my head.

I propped my feet on the coffee table. “Yeah. Very.” I didn’t want to go into details about what happened. I didn’t really want to think about it ever again, and perhaps Christy could sense it because she switched topics.