Devon
Harley stretches out next to me in the double bed her mother assigned us for the night. Her hand wanders up my torso, her gentle touch awakening parts of me I’ve tried to put to sleep.
“Are you sure you don’t want to?” she asks. “She probably assumes we are, anyway.”
“I’m sure.” Taking her hand, I curl mine around it to stop its journey over my sensitive skin. “I can’t face Mae tomorrow morning if I spend the night banging her daughter. You’ll have to rein in your libido for one night. I know it’ll be a struggle,” I tease, “when you’ve got all this sexy goodness in bed with you, but you’ll manage.”
She nips my shoulder. “Oh, I’ll manage. You’re the one who can’t go a night without sex.”
I stifle a laugh because we both know we’re equally insatiable. She loves the physical side of our relationship as much as I do. Unfortunately, I don’t have much experience with meeting the parents of women I’m dating—because I don’t usually see them more than a few times—and it just seems like good etiquette to keep my dick out of Harley while under Mae Isles’s roof. Not to mention that I like Mae, and I want her to like me too.
Smoothing a hand over Harley’s hair, I kiss the top of her head, and then twirl a loose strand around my finger. “What were your dreams?” I ask softly. “When you were a kid, where did you want your life to go?”
“That’s a deep question for when I’m half asleep.” She’s quiet for several seconds, and I wonder if that’s all she’s going to say on the matter, but then she continues. “Promise you won’t think this is corny?”
“Promise.” I have no idea what she’s about to say, but I’m eager to learn more about the girl she was when she lived in this big, welcoming house.
She sighs, and her breath tickles my chest. “I wanted to find a place to belong. That was it. I didn’t have any big ambitions, I just wanted to fit in somewhere and be liked and accepted for who I was.”
My heart expands, threatening to burst out of my ribcage because her dream so closely mirrors my own. I never realized quite how much I felt like I didn’t fit until I found somewhere I did.
“Oh, baby.” I drop another kiss on her forehead. “And did you?”
“I thought I did.” Her voice is so quiet I can hardly hear her. “But Thaklaew ruined that.”
If I ever meet this Thaklaew guy, I’m going to punch him in the face. It’s better than he deserves. “What about at Crown MMA?”
Her chin angles up, and in the dark, I can barely see the shining of her eyes. “Maybe one day.”
“It used to be my place to belong,” I confess. “I hope it will be again, but like I’ve said, it’s not the end of the world if it isn’t. I didn’t have such a hard time growing up as you, but I felt out of place in my own family, even though I never doubted they loved me. Seth has built a tightknit community, and I felt like part of it. Yeah, the guys think I’m a little crazy, but they see me, flaws and all, and they call me their brother anyway.”
At least, they used to—and hopefully still do.
I’ve seen Jase and Gabe a few times recently, and our friendship doesn’t seem damaged by my change of circumstances. Honestly, I do love those guys, and I’m grateful every day that I found my way to them.
“That’s really beautiful,” she says, and snuggles closer. “I’m sure you’ll have it again once Seth’s finished being an ass. What was your dream when you were growing up?”
I grin. “To be a stunt double in action movies.”
She laughs, as I knew she would, and my soul lightens. “Go figure. I can totally see that.”
I slide my arm down to her waist. It’s impossible to move her any closer, but if I could, I would. “Strange how we had such different dreams but ended up in the same place. Must be fate.”
She snorts, and even though I can’t see in the dark, I imagine she rolls her eyes. She doesn’t say anything though, and we lie together as the minutes slip away. I feel restful and at peace, but not at all sleepy, and based on the way her breathing doesn’t even out into a slow rhythm, I’d wager she’s in the same situation.
“I love you.”
Her words are soft but echo like a gunshot in the silence. My pulse accelerates, spiking me into full wakefulness. I open my mouth then close it, uncertain how to respond, and praying that I heard her right.
“I love you, Devon,” she repeats, more clearly.
Twisting around, I kiss her, nearly missing her lips. Oh, my God, I can’t believe she said it. She wouldn’t, unless she were one hundred percent certain, which means that she truly loves me. Beyond a doubt.
“I love you, too,” I reply as I separate my lips from hers. “So damn much.” My arms tighten around her. “Thank you. You’ve given me something wonderful, and I swear I’ll take care of it.”
“I know you will.” She kisses my jaw, and I swallow, her proximity and confession wreaking havoc on my self-control. I want to kiss her senseless and then fuck her until she screams how much she loves me while she comes. But I hold back.
“When did you know?” I wonder aloud.
“Honestly?” Her hand settles over my heart, which is beating steadily for her. “When you fixed the faucet.”
I burst out laughing, and she shoves a hand over my mouth to hush me. I kiss her palm, and she recoils.
“That is such a you thing to say.” It’s practical, and a little odd, which only makes me adore her more. How many people could say they fell in love watching someone manhandle their mother’s wrench?
She pouts. “Don’t make fun of me.”
I stop dead. “I’m not. It’s perfect.” And then, because I can, I add, “I love you.”
When she replies, “I love you, too,” I could shout with joy.
I’m jubilant, and I want to demand she pack her things and officially move into my place as soon as we get back. But because I’m mostly sane—despite what some people think—I press my lips together and keep the demands to myself. I’ll wait for a better time, when she won’t feel like it’s too much, too fast.
But hopefully, it’ll be sooner than we both expect.
Harley
In the morning, after having breakfast with Mom and hugging her goodbye, I show Devon around Cedar Bend. First, we drive past the school. In my memories, the brick buildings ringing the sports field are larger and more intimidating. Prison-like. In reality, they’re drab and worn but nothing scary. My imagination must have inflated them because of the dread I felt coming through the gates each day.
“So this is where the Isles siblings learned their ABCs,” Devon remarks, craning his neck out the window as we slow to a crawl.
“Yep. The one part of Cedar Bend I’d happily never enter again.”
He gets the hint, and puts his foot on the gas. “I want to see the gym you told me about. Does the man who coached you still work there?”
“He does.” Don and I haven’t really kept in touch, but he’s sent me a few messages over the years to see how I’m doing, and I’ve worked with a couple of teenagers he shipped over to Thailand for a muay thai vacation. I give Devon directions to the gym, and he parks outside. My old home away from home is a squat concrete building with faded text across the wall above the doorway that reads, “Cedar Bend Martial Arts.” Several cars are parked along the curb and music filters out through the open door. There’s a class in session.
Devon turns to me, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Should we go in?”
“Let’s do it.” With determination, I climb out of the vehicle and stride toward the entrance. He jogs to catch up. Inside, I pause to take in the scene. Equipment lining the walls and filling the corners of the room, boxing bags hanging from the ceiling, and people spaced around the room in pairs. There’s no ring. Nothing fancy. Just grassroots stuff. A sense of being home washes over me, and I inhale the familiar leather-and-sweat scent.
“Fake jab, low right,” a man’s voice booms, drawing my attention. He’s older, his face worn and crinkled, his hair more salt than pepper and thinning on top, but I’d recognize Don anywhere. The pairs do as he says, one person throwing punches while the other holds pads. We pause in the doorway, watching. As if he senses us, Don glances over. Then, slowly, a smile transforms his face.
“Body kicks until the beeper,” he calls, his legs eating up the distance between us.
“Hey, Don,” I say, right before I’m yanked into a crushing hug. “Oomph.”
He thrusts me back and holds me at arm’s length, examining my features, apparently cataloging the scars I’ve accumulated over the years. “Harley fucking Isles.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe I’m here. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
I roll my eyes at the cheesy line. “Probably the same thing as an old coot like you, Donnie.”
He winces. “Told you not to call me that.”
Cocking my head, I grin. “Been a few years. Might’ve forgotten.”
“Or maybe you like winding up an old man,” he grouses, then kisses my cheek and releases me. “You look good, darlin’. Thailand agrees with you.”
I wait for the heaviness to settle in my heart at the reminder of Thailand, but for the first time, it doesn’t come. Perhaps I’m making progress.
“Haven’t you heard? I’m in Las Vegas these days. Got my first fights in a few weeks.”
His brow arches. “Do you now? Well then, I’ll be watching.”
Okay, that gives me a dose of the warm fuzzies. “I want to hear your thoughts afterward, just like the old days.”
He chuckles. “It wasn’t that long ago, kid. So tell me, whose gym are you fighting out of?”
“Seth’s.”
He does a double take. “MMA, huh? Never figured you for the type to like rollin’ on the ground.”
I shrug. “I’m learning.”
Devon shifts beside me, and Don turns to him. It takes less than three seconds for recognition to set in.
“Well, damn,” he exclaims. “If it isn’t ‘Dangerous’ Devon Green.” He holds out a hand, which Devon shakes firmly. “Don Chapman. Great to meet you. I’ve watched a few of your fights.”
Devon’s smile mirrors Don’s. “Hopefully the good ones. It’s an honor to meet the first man to teach my warrior princess how to throw a punch.”
Don’s gaze skitters back and forth between us. “You two are a thing?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
“That’s fucking fantastic.” He pumps Devon’s hand again, then wraps one arm around my shoulders. “I’m thrilled you visited while you were in town. It’s good to see you, kid.”
“You, too, Donnie.” All of a sudden, I’m not ready to leave. I want to spend more time in this place that used to mean everything to me. “You know, Dev and I don’t have to be anywhere for a few hours. Why don’t we help out with your class?” Both men stare at me. “What do you say?” I ask Devon.
“I’m in.” His answer comes easily, as I knew it would.
Don flushes pink with pleasure, but cautions us, “Once I introduce you to these troublemakers, you might not get away again for a while.”
“Fine by me.”
Shaking his head again, as if bemused by the entire situation, he pivots, and whistles to get everyone’s attention. A dozen faces turn his way.
“We have some very special guests.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, just like he used to, and for some ridiculous reason, it chokes me up. “This here is Harley Isles. She’s just returned from living in Thailand, where she did professional muay thai.” He angles his head toward me. “How many fights you had, Harley?”
“Seventy-six.”
“Seventy-six,” he says, and a weighty silence follows. An atmosphere of anticipation fills the room. “It’s not often you get the chance to learn from someone with that many bouts under their belt.” A low murmur sounds. “And if you haven’t already recognized him, this gentleman is Devon Green. He trains out of Crown MMA Gym in Las Vegas, under my former student Seth Isles.” The murmur grows to a hum, the small group eying us with excitement. Then, with impeccable timing, Don delivers the knockout punch. “They’re going to work with each of you this morning. Listen to them. Give them your respect. These guys know what they’re talking about.” Several of them pump their fists. One guy cheers aloud. Don lowers his voice as he addresses Devon and me. “How do you want to do this?”
“We could take each person through a couple of rounds on pads,” Devon suggests.
“At the end, anyone who wants to try their hand at sparring us can have a go,” I add.
“Perfect.” Don winks. “Hope you’re prepared for the fan-girling.”
“I’m sure we’ll survive.”
An hour later, I’m less certain. I’ve fielded more questions about what it’s like to train in Thailand than ever in my life, and Devon has accumulated a circle of adoring fans who are hanging on his every word. The two teenage girls seem particularly fond of him. If not for their youth and the sizzling looks he sends my way every time he has a chance, I might be concerned. They don’t show their budding crushes by giggling and flirting. Rather they try to impress him with their stellar technique and ability to throw a punch that could make a grown man cry. I recognize the show of one-upmanship because I’ve been there. Strange as it sounds, there comes a time when being able to slip under a man’s guard and deliver an uppercut to his jaw is equivalent to preening in a prom dress.
Don laps up the experience, and it makes my spirit light to see how much joy it brings him to have us here. Eventually, we have to leave. I extricate myself from the group and hug him tightly, breathing into his ear that it won’t be so long before I come back again.
“See to it,” he says, ruffling my hair. Then he shakes Devon’s hand. “Don’t let her walk all over you, and good luck to both of you with your fights.”
“Thanks. Bye, Donnie.”
“See you later, kid.”