by Ciz, Alley
MOTHER OF DRAGONS: *GIF of Khloe Kardashian saying “Hashtag, Fact”*
MOTHER OF DRAGONS: And for real, do you have any idea what these pregnancy hormones do to a girl? You can’t be showing me Jensen Ackles when my hot AF husband is playing an away game.
MOTHER OF DRAGONS: *GIF of Jack Sparrow saying “That’s not very nice.”*
QUEEN OF SMUT: *GIF of Cher from Clueless saying “My Bad.”*
THE OG PITA: Dude. I only have free period for so long. Can we get to who Vince has a crush on please?
PROTEIN PRINCESS: Wait??? Is it that pretty girl we saw talking to Lyle when we were there yesterday???
QUEEN OF SMUT: Shit! Why didn’t I make the connection? Hold please…
QUEEN OF SMUT: Ok, you need to spill ALL the things.
MR. FABULOUS (Lyle): OOOooo. I FLOVE when the velvet rope parts and I get invited into the “exclusive” Coven Conversations.
MR. FABULOUS: Also, is it weird I’m texting Madz when I can see her sitting 100 feet away?
YOU KNOW YOU WANNA: Nope. I’m with Rock and Gem, we do it all the time.
ALPHABET SOUP: So yeah forget about that and tell us what Vince has been up to over there 3 days in a row??
MR. FABULOUS: Do you mean the time he came over here to beg Holly for the special treats your knocked up self was craving?
MR. FABULOUS: Or…
MR. FABULOUS: Are you referring to how Kyle and I found him with his tongue down her throat and pinned against the oven in the kitchen?
MR. FABULOUS: I’m going to need you ladies to be more specific.
ALPHABET SOUP: WHAT?!
QUEEN OF SMUT: WHAT??
PROTEIN PRINCESS: SAY WHAT?
MOTHER OF DRAGONS: COME AGAIN?
YOU KNOW YOU WANNA: VIN DID WHAT?
THE OG PITA: WHAT?
MAKES BOYS CRY: HUH?
MR. FABULOUS: Oh look, I have you all speaking in SHOUTY CAPITALS. I love when that happens.
MR. FABULOUS: Do you want to know what happened or not?
QUEEN OF SMUT: OMG you guys should see the death glare Lyle is sending me from across EP.
QUEEN OF SMUT: **Picture of Lyle shooting daggers.**
ALPHABET SOUP: Sorry, Ly. Please tell me more about the one woman who seems to have captured the attention of my darling big brother for more than 5 minutes.
MR. FABULOUS: Well she’s the creator of those blueberry crumbles that baby in your belly has had you craving every day.
ALPHABET SOUP: SOLD! He needs to marry this chick.
ALPHABET SOUP: *GIF of Jensen Ackles pointing and saying “Marry that girl.”*
THE OG PITA: Ooo more Jensen.
MR. FABULOUS: Don’t try and distract me with male perfection because I haven’t gotten to the best part.
PROTEIN PRINCESS: ???
PROTEIN PRINCESS: Don’t ghost on us now.
YOU KNOW YOU WANNA: Maddey throw something at him.
MOTHER OF DRAGONS: OMG Lyle tell us already. My flight is boarding and I am not waiting hours to find out how this story ends.
QUEEN OF SMUT: Don’t make me call in reinforcements.
MR. FABULOUS: Oh honey. Do you really think threatening to call in your fine AF brother would make me talk faster?
MR. FABULOUS: Oh shit! Tink got up from her seat. I’ll talk. I’ll talk.
MR. FABULOUS: You know how I asked if you’d guys would meet my friend to see if you liked her to take over Rocky’s old room?
PROTEIN PRINCESS: Yeah…
MR. FABULOUS: Well…
MR. FABULOUS: It was Holly.
YOU KNOW YOU WANNA: Oh shit! Things JUST got interesting.
Chapter Ten
After being caught by her friends making out like a teenage babysitter who snuck her boyfriend over, Holly spent the remainder of her day hiding out from the world—well, Kyle and Lyle—baking up all kinds of goodies in the kitchen. She probably created more food than they would be able to sell through the day, but if she faced them, she might actually combust in embarrassment.
Still, being able to do what she wanted, even if it was working, was a refreshing change she embraced wholeheartedly.
The plus side to her mortification—she now knew her mystery man’s name.
Vince.
It suited him.
She couldn’t be faulted for letting things get carried away. The guy exuded pheromones. It was bad enough seeing him in a shirt that was like a second skin and not covered up by a baggie hoodie, then he went and stripped it off, revealing every lickable inch of his torso. Holy jingle bells, he should never wear a shirt. A girl could not be held responsible for her actions when faced with that much perfection inches from her face.
He really wasn’t her type. He was so damn alpha his picture was probably next to the word in the dictionary. She'd had enough of controlling men to last her a lifetime. The last thing she needed was to get involved with the type of guy who told her when she could come or not.
Nope.
Not her type.
At.
All.
Fuck. Who was she kidding?
If they weren’t interrupted, she was pretty sure she had been seconds away from asking if she could decorate the ridges defining his six-pack with frosting so she could clean it off him. With her tongue.
She was in serious trouble here.
She needed coffee.
Wine.
Sleep.
A lobotomy, maybe.
But for now, she had to pull on her big girl panties and walk across Main Street to the gym where Vince…she wasn’t really sure what he did. She assumed with a body like his he did something physical, an athlete, a firefighter maybe, who knew? Regardless, there was a strong possibility he might be there when what she needed to focus on were her potential new roommates and not the sex-on-legs distraction.
With a damp paper towel, she cleaned the flour and other baking materials off her black leggings and headed out before losing her nerve.
She snuck behind the counter while Lyle was busy helping a customer, grabbed a to-go coffee and smiled down at its logo of a paper cup wearing the iconic round glasses, sporting the signature lightning bolt scar and brandishing a wand, all to avoid meeting Lyle’s knowing gaze.
She didn’t bother with her jacket, instead jogging the short distance to The Steele Maker to ward off the chill in the November air.
The building itself was a massive steel and glass structure, taking up more than half the block, and stood more than two stories tall. Like Espresso Patronum, the façade was floor-to-roof windows, but unlike the coffee house, you couldn’t see through them.
As she entered the gym, she was greeted by the jaunty piano strains of Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now.” A lover of a good playlist, she appreciated anyone who enjoyed the musical genius that was Freddie Mercury.
There was a large, semi-circle reception desk directly in front of the door, and she had a feeling she’d seen the pretty redhead manning it in EP a time or two.
Farther back, alongside one of the windows, she could see rows of punching bags and she was pretty sure the smaller raindrop-shaped things hanging from a shelf higher up were called speed bags. There were also a huge boxing ring and black octagon in the back.
The biggest surprise was the artistic black-and-white art hanging throughout, as well as the magnificent mural painted on an entire wall depicting the American flag and Olympic rings.
Between the displayed portraits, the amount of real estate the boxing equipment took up, and the half dozen guys scattered throughout participating in various fighting techniques, Holly figured the gym must cater to training fighters.
And in the middle of it all was Mr. Temptation himself—Vince.
Her eyes greedily took in every detail she could from her spot near the front door. He'd ditched his long-sleeved shirt and sported a gray muscle tank, the front darkened to the same stormy shade his eyes were after their panty-destroying kiss.
His hands were wrapped
in black material, and she watched as he pushed a hand through his inky hair, sending it spiked out in multiple directions. Where on most people it would look sloppy, begging to have a brush run through it, on him it managed to look like it was purposely styled that way.
Unlike how most of the other fighters in the gym were paired off against each other, he was taking a fight stance against a blonde woman who had to be almost half a foot shorter than her own five-six height. Surely, she wasn’t his partner.
Except a few seconds later, she watched as Vince wrapped his arms around the blonde’s body.
Panic welled inside her chest as she watched him keep his arms locked tight as she struggled against him.
Forgetting all about the real reason she was there in the first place, self-preservation had her turning and fleeing out the door.
ONE OF THE things that made Vic and Mick Steele—Vince’s father and uncle—so successful as coaches in both the MMA and boxing communities was their ability to keep those they trained from burning out, extending a fighter's career far past average. One of their tactics was incorporating some fun even during the height of training.
As much as Vince hated cardio day, the grueling pace of the day usually ended with some sort of ridiculousness. The only person to log more pushups with his sister on their back than him was her husband Gage. The heavyweight champ also did pull-ups with Rocky wrapped around him like a monkey—the crazy fool.
But his sister was currently gestating with his future niece or nephew, so Rocky no longer participated in the unconventional methods of training.
Since she was sidelined for another six months, he found himself at the mercy of Maddey. Yeah, mercy. If anyone tried to tell him a barely five foot, romance writing, Tinkerbell lookalike wasn’t intimidating, they'd never had the privilege of meeting Madison McClain. As the only daughter of a retired Navy SEAL-turned-police chief, she learned early on how to keep up with her three older brothers, who had followed in their father’s SEAL footsteps.
“I don’t know, Vin,” Maddey said as she pulled her long blonde curls into a ponytail. “I don’t want to hurt you. I try not to get on my bestie’s bad side.” She hooked a thumb toward Rocky, standing off to the side and wrapped in her husband's arms.
“Oh, Tink.” He waved off her concern. “I can take you with one arm tied behind my back.” Not necessarily true, but he couldn’t help tossing out the taunt. As expected, she narrowed her ice blue eyes at him and squared her shoulders, getting into a fighting stance.
“I hate that they told you about that nickname.” She nodded at her oldest brother, Justin—former Navy SEAL and now SWAT officer—watching them from a corner.
“Love you too, sis,” Justin called out, puckering his lips and making kissing noises at them. “Now come on…show this punk what I taught you last week.”
Oh, shit.
“You mean how you taught me how to go all Black Widow on a person and do that fancy jump up and take down a person by wrapping my legs around their head?” There was an evil glint in her eyes as she twirled a curl around a finger, the picture of innocence.
“What? Are you training to be in the next Marvel film?” Vince smiled through the trickle of unease.
The Steele Maker had offered a women's self-defense class for a few years since learning about Jordan’s psycho ex, but the McClain brothers took Maddey’s training to a level far above that of mere mortals.
“Afraid, Vinny Boy?” Maddey sing-songed.
“Do your worst, Madz.”
Not ten seconds later, she vaulted herself up his body, braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself up to wrap her legs around his head, using her body weight to take them both down to the padded floor.
Cheers rang out through the gym as their friends slow-clapped the spectacle.
“Holy shit, Madz. You are a certifiable badass,” he said in awe.
She gave an overdramatic bow at her awesomeness.
“Okay.” He clapped his hands in front of him. “Time to get serious. As kickass as your superhero-worthy moves are, I highly doubt you would actually use them if you were in trouble.”
He went into instructor mode, switching up the way he approached or moved to attack, and each time she managed to escape. For a guy who'd made a name for himself winning fights by submission takedowns due to his wrestling background, it was mildly embarrassing how easily she slipped from his grasp. If it were anyone besides Maddey, he might start to question his skills, but she was a freak of nature thanks to her upbringing.
He locked his arms around her, keeping his grip firm as she struggled to find a way to break his hold.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard Becky’s voice call out, “Wasn’t that Holly from EP?” Everything inside him snapped to attention at her name, his arms immediately dropped from around Maddey and his head whipping up to look toward the front of the gym.
Quick like The Flash, he caught her just as she crossed the threshold onto the sidewalk outside.
“Holly,” he called out, reaching out to cup a hand around her elbow.
Her body jerked as if shocked by an electrical current, and she yanked her arm from his grasp as she rounded on him.
“Shit, Hol. Did I hurt you?” He knew he didn’t, but he needed to calm the raw panic swirling in her eyes.
“No.” Her voice was small when she answered. “I’m fine.” The hell she was. Gone was the sassy woman who blatantly told him he wasn’t her type. He didn’t like it.
Not. One. Bit.
Slowly—so slow he was the human equivalent of a slow motion video—he stretched a hand toward her, giving her plenty of time to move and avoid his touch if she needed to. She stood statue-still, only her eyes shifting to follow the path of his arm.
His hand snaked beneath her curtain of purple-tipped hair, cradling the back of her head while he took a few steps to close the distance between them instead of tugging her against him.
Her head tilted back to maintain eye contact. He spotted a streak of green frosting on her temple, his jaw starting to unclench at the first sign of something that was so her amongst the angst of whatever had just transpired.
The silence stretched between them as they stared at each other unblinking.
“Cupcake.”
The nickname managed to get the barest hint of a smile, some of the color returning to her face.
“Want to tell me what had you so spooked?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
There was that word again—fine. He'd grown up with a sister, her best friend that was practically a sister, and a female cousin. He knew when a woman said she was fine, she was anything but.
“Doubtful.” Now wasn’t the time to push the issue. “Come back inside.” He nodded toward the gym behind him. “It’s too cold to be out here without a coat.”
It took everything inside him not to use his hold on her to get her to move, but he didn’t want to do anything that could trigger her into running away again. It was seven heart-pounding seconds before she took her first step. He moved to the side, holding the door wide for her to enter.
Every eye was on them when they stepped inside the gym. Literally every single one. It was the last thing he wanted at the moment.
Cautiously, he draped an arm around her shoulders. “Guys,” he called, “this is Holly. She’s the baker at EP.”
“Oh my god,” his sister cried out. “Your food is amazeballs. Like, I could marry you for your blueberry crumbles. You’re okay with polygamy, right, babe?” She turned to her husband.
To Gage’s credit, he ignored her ridiculousness, only smiling adoringly down at her. “Whatever you want, Blue.”
Man, the guy was whipped. If he was married to anyone other than his sister, Vince might have given him shit for it—who was he kidding, of course he gave him shit, big heaping doses of it—but he respected the guy for worshiping the ground Rocky walked on. He couldn’t have asked for a better match for his sister or to be his brother-in-law.
“A baker, huh?” Gemma pushed through the crowd, her narrowed eyes cluing him to potential trouble. “So you have been cheating on your diet.”
“No. I swear,” he said vehemently. The folding of his cousin’s arms told him she didn’t believe him. “Really, Gem. I haven’t had one thing that wasn’t expressly directed by you. Not with you here whipping me into shape.”
“You keep sneaking off to EP and it’ll turn into a literal whip.”
“Sorry, Gem. For as much as I love you, I think it’s illegal for us to experiment with BDSM, seeing as we’re related and all.” His comment earned him a smack to the chest.
“Ewww. Don’t be gross.” There was no way to bite back the laugh at her disturbed expression.
“It’s true.” Holly came to his defense and he could have kissed her. He wanted to. He’d thought of little else all day. “The only time he left with food was when he came in for blueberry crumbles for who I would assume was you”—she pointed toward Rocky—“since you’re the one sporting a baby bump.”
“That was two days ago,” Rocky stated.
“And you’ve been spotted leaving EP three days in a row,” Becky added helpfully, holding up three fingers for emphasis. “Why else would you be going there if not to sneak in treats?”
“I bet I know why,” Deck said.
“Don’t be a dick, Deck,” Maddey scolded.
“What?” He shrugged innocently. “It obviously worked if she’s coming here to see him.”