Love, Tussles, and Takedowns

by Violet Duke

  All but baited, he took that dare. And saw two things clear as day.

  One, she recognized him.

  And two…that was definitely muffled desire plain and simple searing across her features.

  * * * * *

  IT WAS HIM.

  Lia took a second to let out a tightly-trapped breath to get her breathing back to the normal first-in-then-out pattern her lungs had grown fond of for daily function.

  Momentarily overlooking the disturbing fact that a single glance at a man could so thoroughly rob her of her basic senses, she mulishly kept her eyes trained on him in an epic staring contest that her wholly uneven fight or flight instincts demanded she keep up and win.

  Meanwhile, some other instinct, a very female one she’d long forgotten she possessed, was demanding she take another approach to the situation altogether.

  Forget fighting, and start fantasizing.

  What the—

  But before her brain could even begin to process the implications of that bizarre reaction, the exhibit coordinator stepped in front of her to call the crowd’s attention her way.

  “And last but not least, Liana Lin, standing in for Jack Spencer, with an extensive collection of war rifles throughout history.”

  When the audience clapped their appreciative second welcome of the morning, Lia finally yanked her eyes away from the man to smile and greet the attendees...at the last possible second. It was a grudging declaration of defeat in their staring contest to say the least, but it managed to inspire sexy little laugh lines around the man’s eyes for just the briefest of moments.

  Lia gritted her teeth and somehow defied the urge to glue her eyes back on the enigmatic stranger in response.

  Her only consolation being that the man seemed equally bewildered, and powerless, against whatever was tethering their attention together.

  Well played, universe.

  While she was thankful to now know whose eyes had been on her for the last fifteen minutes, she was overwhelmingly discombobulated by the ruggedly intense man belonging to those eyes. As Lia was well aware, fate had a twisted sense of humor, with the added kick of bizarre timing to boot. It did sound just like the universe’s M.O. to bring forth the man she’d been unable to stop thinking about since first spotting him at her friend Dani’s wedding weeks ago, into a forum where he could hear her geek out about rifles.

  Ah yes, the universally sexy call sign of all modern single women.

  Just drop it for now, Lia. Focus. She’d wrap her head around the stranger’s presence here of all places later.

  Now what was the audience member in front of her asking? The genetic lineage of the Civil War rifles. Nice.

  Her answer for him began overtaking her thoughts and soon her mind was lulled by the facts and stories she’d gathered over the years. This was her favorite part of her trade—watching folks get pulled into the tales each of these weapons had to offer. The discussions that would follow always contained the rewarding intellectual outlets her mind craved just like her body did martial arts.

  A calm washed over her.

  Her expertise with the war weapons she’d fixatedly gotten to know better than some of the best in her field were what she’d decided to devote her life to nearly a decade ago. It was the bread and butter of her little shop down in Cactus Creek, her own hard-earned pride and joy that was taking off quite nicely.

  Unlike her colleagues, Lia didn’t have any official degrees backing her knowledge—a minor detail which always disqualified her from getting invited to speak at international symposiums about these very weapons in their homelands. Fortunately, none of that mattered to her. For Lia, the unique tools of her trade had ingrained themselves in her head in the vast pockets where adolescent memories should have resided. Where some people stored useless trivia or song lyrics embedded from their teen years, Lia held all the historical facts that made her one of the top-requested combat antique arms authenticators in the Western U.S.

  That’s why she knew weaponry better than anything in her life. Well, next to martial arts, that is. Of course, the two didn’t ever get to mingle within the same context in her world, due solely to the pact she’d made with herself long ago to never allow any dangerous arm or firearm be just a weapon—the tool of hurt and destruction that she knew it could be.

  That’s exactly the way she’d treated every artifact she’d devoted her life to since.

  And how her presentation today unfolded.

  * * * * *

  SHE WAS SPELLBINDING.

  Throughout her entire presentation, she’d moved from rifle to rifle with the skill of a soldier and the ardor of an artist, while making sure to lock her eyes on his for the briefest of moments whenever she’d address his side of the audience.

  As if to boldly prove to him simply that she could.

  Hudson had never experienced anything more ridiculously sexy in his entire life.

  Or so he thought.

  Now here he was, standing outside of the Phoenix Convention Center a good half-hour later, proceeding to have his brain get wiped completely clean. The reason?

  His favorite little rifle expert was currently sliding into the pair of jeans she’d apparently had tucked away in the bag slung across her torso. Right there, not forty yards from him, out in the parking lot next to a sleek Kawasaki ninja bike, the woman was pulling the jeans up under the business skirt she’d clearly only worn for the conference...based on the way she rolled the garment up and shoved it into her bag without another thought.

  This was yet another facet of the woman he was becoming increasingly enthralled by, yet another difference transforming that positively mythological hair of hers. On the night of the wedding, her silky midnight-black hair had been a seamless raven waterfall down her back that had inspired visions of wood nymphs in the moonlight. Earlier today in the exhibit hall, it had been twisted up in a professional bun that had been just as distracting in how it highlighted her delicate features and intelligent, catlike eyes. Now the chopsticks holding the bun in place were gone, and the soft obsidian waves framing the biker glasses she’d slipped onto her pert little nose was perhaps his favorite look yet.

  Largely due to the content smile that filtered across her face as she shook her hair out.

  Damn, she had a great smile.

  Hudson had intended to go up and talk to her after her lecture, maybe ask her out for some drinks. Unfortunately, she’d gone from being bombarded by audience questions to following the two Spencer’s employees, who had loaded the dozen rifle cases into the Spencer’s van waiting for them out front.

  He’d lost sight of her shortly after. Only to find her here in the motorcycle parking area doing her little jeans shimmy dance.

  Precisely when his brain had stopped functioning.

  And it was slow going starting it back up. The fact that she’d moved on to slowly peeling off her classy gray top wasn’t helping one bit. Jesus. The tantalizing sight of her athletically toned back, revealed slow inch by slow inch in plain sight of the entire neighborhood…

  Had Hudson been able to un-cement his feet from the ground, he would’ve rushed over to block her gorgeous body from any spying eyes.

  Finally, with a shuddering sigh of relief, tinged with the tiniest bit of disappointment, he saw that she had on a thin tank top under the top she’d been wearing. Black, like the plain tee she dragged over her head next and the no longer business-like knee-high boots she yanked back on her feet. While it certainly wasn’t uncommon to see women clad in far skimpier tops, seeing this particular woman in a simple, sporty tank had been nothing short of mind-blisteringly hot.

  Before he got a chance to reel his senses back in and reboot, she hopped on her bike and started across the lot. He headed straight for his jeep, and was in the middle of telling himself that going after her wasn’t at all stalkerish when he saw her stop at the parking exit and turn her head in his direction. A flick of her helmet shield and he saw her laughing almond eyes smiling right at him
. Startled to a halt, he just stood there as she tilted her head and waved once, briefly, before slapping her helmet shield back down and zooming down the street.

  Hudson felt his muscles slowly unlock one by one like dominoes until he was finally able to pull out his cell phone to dial up his buddy Luke’s number.

  Hey Luke, you think you could ask your wife if her bouncer is single?

  Definitely high up there on the list of top ten things he never thought he’d say.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LIA DOWNED HER third tequila shooter of the night with a lick of tabasco and a gulp of the newest brew on tap at Ocotillos, the only place in town where actual, albeit rare, instances of her having a social life had been known to take place.

  A far cry from the goings on here tonight.

  As of an hour ago, after who knows how many magically refilling glasses of beer, the you-poor-thing looks being cast her way by the workers and regulars had magnified tenfold.

  And she couldn’t even resent them for it.

  Truth was, she loved the town folk of Cactus Creek. Every last quirky, sweet, and nosy one of ‘em. Even when they were fussing over her with beers of affection. Along with a bunch of annual casseroles they delivered to her door on this day each year.

  At first, she’d thought they acted this way simply because she was the event bouncer who spent a few nights a month doing a damn good job keeping the peace here, the beloved local brewpub owned by her friend and town beer-brewing sweetheart, Dani Dobson-Bradford. Just some small town nosiness over the female bouncer with an annual Achilles heel. And then one day, Dani opened Lia’s eyes to the real reason she hadn’t seen.

  They all cared about her.

  Remarkable. Despite having essentially given up after years of ineffectively searching for a place in life to fit in and call her own, she’d somehow managed to find that place in Cactus Creek.

  It was nice.

  Unfortunately, it also translated to her spending the last few hours at a secluded table up on the roof deck of Ocotillos amidst a sea of sad eyes watching her quietly drink the night away.

  Alone. As always.

  No one came up to chat with her, and the handful of out-of-town guys who looked like they were about to hit on her were stopped in their tracks, courtesy of her shadow entourage, the treasured few close friends in her life who made it a dogged tradition to look out for her on this day each year.

  She frowned. For some reason, tonight felt different from other years—not sadder, just lonelier. She didn’t want to be hit on per se, but it would’ve been nice to talk to someone for a change.

  Just then, a low voice rumbled in her ear. “You up for a dance, sugar?”

  Lia shivered, every cell in her body reacting with acute awareness to that voice as she turned to the rough-cut man standing beside her. Boldly curious, she let herself take him all in, from the thoroughly male grin on his lips, to the gentle, refreshingly not sympathetic, and rapidly-warming look in his eyes.

  On its own accord, a whispered breath slipped past her lips... “Hudson Reyes.”

  Rugged laugh lines crinkled around his eyes. “You did some recon on me; I’m flattered. So is that a ‘yes’ to the dance?”

  She took his offered hand and backed them over to a quiet corner away from the many prying eyes around them before slipping into his arms and laying her head against his broad chest. A soft rock ballad playing over the speaker system had her swaying side to side in rhythm with his steady heartbeat. For a while, she just allowed herself to enjoy the moment before finally answering belatedly, “It wasn’t recon.” Smiling against his sternum, she clarified, “It’s just good manners to find out the name of the person who spent nearly an hour straight staring at me, don’t you think?”

  “Is that the proper protocol?” He chuckled gamely and drew her in just a bit more so his words feathered softly against her temple. “Darn. Now I feel like a slacker for not ordering your detailed background check yet, seeing as how you spent an hour today staring right back at me as well.”

  Ah. So she hadn’t been very covert. “You should feel like a slacker. You know how hard I had to work to find out that a one Mr. Hudson Reyes from California is not just an organ donor, but one of those wretched guys who takes an unfairly good driver’s license mug shot?”

  His lips curved up in amusement, a soft caress against her hair. “Crafty. Maybe if I manage to make it out of here alive tonight, you can tell me how you were able to get that intel.”

  “Why? Do you have a reason to fear for your life?” She smiled. This was fun.

  “I think it’s a valid fear seeing as how the grim reaper himself has me in his sights tonight.”

  “That is a concern. So what exactly does the grim reaper look like?”

  “Mid-thirties, my height, moves in a way that’s department-issued with a gun and badge.”

  “Ohhh, you mean the guy making his way through the crowd, ready to pummel in your head at...fifteen yards and closing?”

  “That would be the one.”

  She turned laughing eyes up to his and felt a jolt that had her defenses dropping and pulse rate rising. “Well then maybe you should give me a kiss goodbye so I have something to remember you by,” she said brazenly, shocking the hell out of her, while causing his thickly muscled arms to harden to steel.

  Before either of them could fully jump into the changing tide of their banter, however, both of their free hands shot out to block the bear-like paws that had attempted to shove Hudson away from Lia.

  With a disapproving little sister tsk, Lia turned her eyes, and only her eyes, toward her oldest brother. “Caine. You know better than to go around assaulting random folk for no good reason.” She released her hold on Caine’s left wrist, giving Hudson the silent green light to let go of his right forearm.

  “I have an excellent reason,” rumbled Caine. “An asshole luring my drunk sister into a dark corner so he can take advantage of her.” He glared menacingly at Hudson, who, to his credit, looked thoroughly unfazed. Not really surprised, but extremely touched, Lia noted Hudson’s arm was still around her waist, taut with an increasingly protective tension as Caine fixed his big, bad older brother scowl on her.

  Visibly giving Hudson a momentary reprieve in execution, Caine’s focus was solely on Lia now. Minus the growl. But multiplied by infinity in the concern department. “Since when do you get sloshing drunk enough to let a stranger grope you in public?”

  She sighed. “For one, I’m not drunk. Secondly, we were just dancing. I know it’s been a while for me to know for sure, but I’m pretty certain his hands stayed in the ‘friend zones’ the entire time. And lastly, he’s not a stranger. Hudson, meet my brother, Caine Spencer. Caine, this is my new friend, Hudson Reyes.”

  A soft smile overtook her lips as she repeated Hudson’s name in a hushed, savory murmur that had his now heated gaze falling to her lips. The scorchingly vivid images about where she’d like to place her lips had her thinking maybe she was a little drunk. But not on tequila and beer.

  On Hudson.

  Not the sort of thing you wanted to fixate on with family around, but she couldn’t help herself; she bit her lower lip in barely tamed restraint and watched his smoky gray eyes dilate with a warning she was too far gone to heed.

  Thankfully, one of them was hanging on to some control. Hudson drew his lingering gaze away from her with an almost amused, very male headshake before he turned his attention over to the now astonished Caine. “Spencer—as in Jack Spencer?” asked Hudson in a neutral tone that belied the way his fingers were trailing up and down her arm. Each maddening, nerve-seducing stroke against her skin was telling her, in no uncertain way, that the very private conversation she’d been all but goading him into was far from over.

  Caine did a double take. “You know my dad?” His sole attention was on Hudson now.

  Lia knew the instant Hudson’s arm relaxed around her that he’d chosen his conversation opener for the singular, specific reason
of redirecting Caine’s glare on himself as opposed to her.

  So much more romantic than roses.

  “My boss over in California contracts your dad’s shop for some of our prop fabrications.”

  Before Caine could reply to that tidbit that had Lia’s eyes widening in surprise as well, however, they were interrupted by five vibrantly bedazzled nails appearing on Caine’s shoulder.

  “Officer Caine. Now you know I positively love you, but I gotta say, you’re freaking out the customers up here a little. You mind dialing down those big, bad alpha grunts just a tad?”

  Lia knew only one woman who could talk to Caine like that.

  Him, too, apparently as he rolled his eyes and stepped to the side, revealing that sure enough, Xoey, the town’s favorite bartender and new co-owner of the brewpub herself had come up to provide Lia with some back-up.

  Again with the wonderfulness of the townfolk.

  “I’m just having a conversation with my sister and her new friend here.”

  Xoey kept her hand firmly planted on Caine’s shoulder. “Looks more like you’re cock-blocking…or ‘clam-jamming’ rather than talking.”

  Good thing Lia hadn’t been drinking anything or there would’ve been a liquid fountain show over that one. Xoey certainly had a way with words.

  Caine was not amused.

  “Your sister is doing just fine up here on her own, bud,” continued Xoey, smiling prettily. “I, on the other hand, have some very specific needs only you can address.”

  Okay, there was helping, and then there was completely unnecessary oversharing.

  In complete contrast to his earlier mood, that made Caine crack a smile. “I swear, one day, Isaac is going to revoke my membership to his gym and show me the business end of all his MMA training because of this fake flirting you do with me.”

  This time it was Xoey’s turn to give him a piqued frown. “Who says it’s fake? And why do you all keep insisting on believing Isaac still has feelings for me? We’re just friends.”