I sighed in relief. Not that I cared that he was gay, but that I didn’t want him to be gay. I wanted him to like women, preferably me.
“I’ve never met Simon before, but he knows me. Knows of me. I’m well known in the MMA community.” When I frowned once again, he added, “That’s Mixed Martial Arts. I’m sure you’ve seen it before on TV or a commercial or something. I did that professionally a while ago and won some big fights. I’ve retired from fighting now.”
I cocked my head and looked at him, thinking maybe I’d recognize him or something, but I didn’t follow the fight scene and I would have remembered him before. “Are you saying you’re famous?”
He ran his hand over the back of his neck. Clearly being famous wasn’t something he wanted to share with me. “Sort of, but not that famous if you haven’t heard of me.”
“I don’t even know your last name.”
“Green. Grayson Green.”
“Yeah, never heard of you.” I grinned, but it slipped. “Does it bother you that I didn’t recognize you?” Had I hurt his feelings? I fiddled with the leather strap of my purse. I’d never met a famous person before.
“Hell, no.” His vehemence had me looking up at him. “I’m glad actually. A lot of people try to get close to me because of what I did, not who I am.”
I bit my lip and thought about how that must feel. “That must be pretty annoying.”
He clenched his jaw. “You have no idea.”
I didn’t know much about him, but definitely wanted to know more. “So. About that lunch? I’m starved.”
It was Gray’s turn to grin. “I still want to have lunch with a woman who has a kid and you still want to have lunch with a famous guy.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
Something flared in his eyes, bright and hot. “I’d like for you to be within five feet of me today, maybe even hold your hand again, so I need to shower. I stink. Would you mind if we stopped at my gym so I can get cleaned up first?”
CHAPTER FIVE
GRAY
Holy shit. The woman had a son. A grown son, who went to the Naval Academy, which was one of the hardest schools to get into in the country, which meant the kid was fucking smart. She was a nurse practitioner; she was no dummy either. Not only that, the kid was willing to dedicate his life to the service of the country. For years. This wasn’t some kid with an undecided major joining a fraternity at a state school so he could party his four years away. Emory had made a man. A man that was most likely going to go off to war. She was here, calm as can be, knowing war could easily be in his future. That feat alone had me admiring her so much. I’d be shitting a brick if my child broke a finger, l
et alone shipped off to some desert battle.
I’d joined the Army right out of high school to escape my father and the hell he’d made my life and did enough tours to see evil and knew what her son would see—and live—firsthand. How it changed you. Scarred you. Made you hard. Because of this, but especially my dad, I learned how to fight well enough—and started at a young age—to become a professional when I got out. Won world championships. Built an empire around my name. Then, retiring, I used all that to build a gym of my own, to create new champions. I’d done a lot, accomplished a lot. Was famous for it. Made a shitload of money. But that was fuck-all compared to what Emory had done, and for part of it, it seemed, alone. And she was worried I’d not be interested in her? The opposite in fact. My interest in her only escalated. The question was, when would she realized I was just The Green Machine, a fuck-up from the city and decide to walk away?
I opened the door to the Audi for her, admiring her long tanned legs as she slid into the seat. Once the engine was on, I rolled down the windows. “Might be better with a little fresh air so I don’t scare you off. I’m pretty ripe.” I picked a blade of grass off my dirty shirt and tossed it out the window.
She looked me up and down in a way that had me shifting in my seat. It wasn’t blatant, but she’d scoped me out and I couldn’t tell if her cheeks were pink from being caught at it or from the heat of the car. “Rugby seems like an interesting sport.”
“Never seen a game before?” I looked over my shoulder and pulled out into traffic.
“No. I’m an expert on soccer, basketball and lacrosse. Rowing, too.”
“Your son?”
“Yes. His name is Chris. Sorry, I don’t mean to talk about him.” She tucked a curl behind her ear.
I stopped at a red light and turned to look at her. Even with the windows open I could pick up her scent. Something flowery or fruity, maybe coconut. Shampoo? Whatever the hell it was it was going to drive me insane when I switched to air conditioning. “Why? He’s your son.”
“Yeah, but most guys aren’t interested in hearing about kids.”
I gripped the wheel. “Now you’re hurting my feelings. I’m not most guys, Emory.”
Even with the heat I could see her blush this time. She bit her lip, but met my gaze. “Wow, you’re right. I’m sorry.” I saw her throat work as she swallowed. “I told you I wasn’t good at this. It’s been a long time…a really long time.”
“How long is really long?” Six months? A year?