Fight For Her (More Than A Cowboy 1)

he boxers get back in the ring, I asked, “Was it the lady who stars in that sci-fi blockbuster? I take you more for an action-adventure type.”

Gray wasn't the kind of guy to be flippant about a baby. From what he told me about being afraid he'd hurt one, I knew it was all tabloid fodder and I played it off as that.

He turned his head toward me and grinned. “There’s only one type I care about,” he replied, stepping closer.

“Oh?”

He nodded and tucked a wayward curl behind my ear. “Emory’s type.”

“Oh.” I had no idea what to say to that. I had absolutely no comeback and I was flustered. Of course, that made him grin even bigger.

“I love the way you blush.” He ran a knuckle down my warm cheek, which made my face heat even more. “Ready to get out of here?”

I could only nod, still stuck on Emory’s type. I followed him to the car and his gaze raked over my body as he opened the door for me.

“So, rowing?”

“It’s not MMA, but it’s a good workout,” I replied, getting in.

“I can tell.” Was his voice a little rough?

He climbed into his seat, turned on the engine to get the air conditioning going. His car was new and sleek. Sporty yet understated, and it matched Gray’s personality.

Turning to face me, he said, “We can go to the bar and meet up with the team, but they’re going to be three beers in by now and singing crude rugby songs as loud as they can. Most guys probably haven’t showered, which won’t be pleasant, so I was thinking we could get some lunch on our own. Something a little less crazy.”

He sat less than two feet away. I could clearly see the scar in his eyebrow, the start of new whiskers on his cheeks. One of his ears had a hint of fighting damage to it, cauliflower ear, that he’d pointed to. But that was all superficial. Inconsequential. It was his eyes that hooked me. The way he looked at me with that dark, piercing gaze as if I was the only person around. In this case, I was, but he was completely and totally focused on me, not the car blaring its horn on the street, not the bad song that came on the radio. It was as if he wanted to be just with me.

I licked my bottom lip and he sucked in a breath. “What about your friend, Thor?”

“He texted me while I was in the shower. Laura, his wife, didn’t want to waste a babysitter on a bunch of drunk guys singing off key. Her words.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame her. Thor’s a smart man for doing what she wants.”

He cocked his head in question.

“If she gets what she wants, I promise you, he’ll get exactly what he wants,” I explained. I folded my hands in my lap.

He nodded slowly, thinking about my words, then grinned. “So if I take you where you want, will I get exactly what I want?”

My eyes widened. Even though the air conditioner was blowing out cool air, it was awfully hot inside the car all of a sudden and my heart skidded to a halt. “And…um, what is it that you want?” I whispered. I was dying to know and petrified to find out.

“Your phone number.” He grinned at my expression. It must have been priceless because I was expecting him to say something completely different, something that involved a first-date BJ. And he knew that.

Shaking my head slightly, I laughed as I retrieved my cell from my bag, handed it to him. He fiddled with it for a minute, then I heard a ring from his pocket. Then he gave the phone back, put the car in gear and backed out of the parking spot.

“There, now you have my number, too.”

CHAPTER SIX

EMORY

I let Gray decide where to eat for lunch. He took me to a place on the water near Annapolis for steamed crabs, a Maryland summer specialty. We ate outside on a covered patio at a picnic table covered in newspaper. A tin bucket sat between us for empty crab shells and we used wooden mallets to crack open the legs. It was a really smart choice on Gray’s part. It was slow picking the meat out of a crab, so we were able to linger and talk. Our hands were busy the entire time, which helped to avoid awkward moments. It was also a messy task, and it was hard to take anything too seriously when you were swinging a wooden mallet with crab seasoning all over your hands.

It was after three when Gray pulled his car into an empty spot just down the street from my house.

“I had a really good time. Thank you,” I said.

He turned off the car. “You’re welcome. I did, too.” He shifted his shoulders to face me. “Do you work this week?”