Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series)

by Halat, Lynetta

  “Hi, Ransom,” I say with confidence, like I belong here.

  “You box?”

  “Oh, sure,” I reply, stepping toward him.

  “Really?” He cocks a brow at me.

  “No, not really. Is it a good workout? ‘Cause I never wanna see another treadmill in my life. Why would people torture themselves like that? You just run in place, staring at the same thing. For. Ever.”

  He laughs at me. “You should just run outside then. Campus has pretty running trails.”

  “I think I will,” I groan, blowing out a resigned breath. “I can’t take that again.”

  He bumps his gloves together and suggests, “You can take up boxing too. It’s never boring.”

  I consider this for a minute. It does sound like fun. “I don’t know how. Do they have a class?”

  “I think so,” he says, as he looks back at his bag and scratches his head with his gloved hand. “I could show you a few moves.”

  “That’d be cool. But I don’t have any gloves or anything.”

  He motions me over. Bending toward his bag, he retrieves a pair of lightweight gloves.

  “These are wrap gloves. You can use them for now. I can help you pick out some real gloves if you want to continue.”

  He pulls off the ones he’s wearing and shoves them under his arms while he helps me with the extra pair. His eyes shine bright with excitement.

  “Have you ever hit a heavy bag before?”

  “No, but I punched a cow once.”

  He grins. “Only once?”

  “Yeah, she was standing on my foot.” I shrug. “Self-defense.”

  He laughs lightly. “All right,” he says as he pulls his gloves back on and repositions himself in front of his bag. “You want to stay light on your feet. Basically, that means your balance and your focus is on your core. That’s the first thing you focus on ‘cause that’s most important. Every punch you throw comes from here,” he grunts as he hits his abs with his gloved hand a couple of times. Now my focus is on his core. Good Lord. He’s freaking ripped. Why didn’t I notice those first? Ah! The eyes. The eyes get me every time.

  He throws several punches, talking me through each one.

  “Your turn,” he says. His voice has dropped an octave, making him sound all hoarse and sexy.

  Moving behind the bag, he holds it for me while I imitate his stance and his punches. “Good,” he calls out. He names the punches and gives them numbers. Then he calls out a series of numbers. I rapidly punch them out as quickly as he calls them. “You’re a natural little fighter,” he says with admiration. I can’t help but flash a cheesy smile.

  Stepping away from the bag, he circles behind me and runs a gloved hand over my stomach, reminding me to balance and keep my core tight. My breath hitches in my throat when his hand comes to rest lightly on my stomach. He calls out another series of numbers. If I didn’t want to impress him so badly, my arms would flop like limp, cooked noodles. It’s everything I can do to focus on my actions and not on that tortuous, gloved hand.

  “You’re a quick learner,” he praises.

  “Maybe you’re a good teacher,” I choke out.

  “I doubt it,” he says with a laugh as he drops his hand and steps away. “It took Austin months to learn the numbers. By the way, he won’t shut up about having so many classes with you.”

  I chuckle at that. “We just got done for today.”

  “Oh, he’s been texting me all day … trying to make me jealous, I think.” He winks at me.

  He. Winks. At. Me.

  “Oh,” I utter, suddenly embarrassed. “He wants to have a bunch of babies with me and name them weird city names,” I blurt out.

  He shakes his head and grins. “Not surprised … Denver? That is an unusual name.” Ransom leans against the wall and, snagging a bottle of water, squirts some into his mouth. I swallow hard as a few drops trickle down his chin and to his neck, drawing my eyes to his thumping pulse.

  “Yeah, not named after the city though,” I mumble, distracted. Somehow observing the drops of water and his sweat collide over his beating pulse has me yearning to lick him clean with my tongue. Holy shit.

  He motions with the bottle of water. I reach for it to get my fill, but he shakes his head at me.

  “Tilt your head back,” he insists. When in Rome? I can’t believe I don’t choke as he shoots water into my mouth. I’m sure I don’t look half as sexy as he did. I’m thirsty, but it’s hard to swallow past my other craving. “So … you’re named after …”

  “John Denver, the musician. My mom was a huge fan, which is odd ‘cause she’s like the antithesis of poetry and hearts and flowers. Anyway, she wanted me to have a strong name. You know, strong name for a frail girl.” I lean in. “She really wanted a boy.”

  He laughs. “I’m glad she didn’t get her wish.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It’d be kinda weird for me if you were a guy,” he declares with a shrug and a look that says everything. Cue the butterflies. Massive swarms of them. “What kind of middle name would go with Denver?”

  I groan and pinch my lips together. “Well, my dad wanted something girly and something to represent his neck of the woods, Mississippi.” He gives me a go-on look. “Magnolia,” I say with my head up. I secretly love my middle name, but that love hadn’t come until about two years ago. I thought it weird, and not in a good way, so I always wanted Jennifer or Stacy or Michelle. Something feminine and normal. But then, I figured I no longer gave a shit about normal, and embraced it.

  He squirts some more water in his mouth before he replies. “You’re just full of contradictions from the start, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A poet … a flowery tree … a fighter.”

  “A fighter?” I ask, trying in vain to ignore the thrill that races through me at the way he analyzed my name and my personality.

  “Oh, you have to know who Jack Dempsey was.”

  I suck air through my teeth and nod my head up and down but squeak out a, “No,” since I can tell it means something to him.

  “Oh, Denver Magnolia Dempsey,” he chastises. “We are gonna have to fix that.” And I like the way he says we.

  After we say our goodbyes, I, in essence, float to the locker rooms. I replay every look, every uttered word. Everyone and everything is a million miles away, and I’m suspended in a fog of desire and intrigue. Oh my God, I’m such a girl. But, it can’t be helped; he’s just so … dreamy. I roll my eyes at myself. Looking across the room, I see the same exact look I imagine on my face, mirrored in Maggie’s. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, and she grins big.

  “I ran into Pete,” she beams.

  “And I ran into Ransom,” I don’t beam. I narrow my eyes and try to shake my hazy state.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ransom

  “NO WAY SHE’S gonna jump from that rope swing. It has to be over thirty feet in the air,” Becky grumbles.

  “Thirty-two,” I mutter absentmindedly.

  “Jesus, and not even covering herself. It’d serve her right for her to lose her bathing suit,” Amber says, seeming not to notice my comment. I start to consider their open hostility toward Denver, but I get distracted.

  Utterly fascinated, I stare as Denver hikes her bikini clad ass up the slope to climb the ladder, intending to do what most guys never think twice about, most girls would never consider doing, and what could likely get her hurt. A miscalculation of when to let go—too soon, too late, too high, too low—of course, the threat of danger is the appeal.

  I should stop her, but I won’t. I’m itching to see what she does, as messed-up as that is. What’s more, I still haven’t been able to take my eyes off of her delectable ass. That ass moves like it knows it’s the best thing around. It. Just. Is. She's not even working it like so many girls do, vying for attention. I finally pull my gaze from the very generous half-globes. My eyes work down to take in her toned calves and slender ankles. One of
them has a silver chain looped around it. Looking back up, I skim over her body. She’s pulled her hair from its braid and has shaken the dirty-blonde locks loose. It hangs in long waves and sweeps the middle of her shoulder blades—I want to wrap it around my fist.

  When she gets to the top, Denver turns to scale the rungs to the platform. That’s when I get the full view of the tiny red triangles covering her beautiful, full breasts and the vee between her legs. My jaw ticks, and I almost call out to her to get the fuck away from the platform ladder.

  Why? Fucking Austin is right behind her, licking his lips and laughing up a storm. I glance around for Greer but don’t see him. He’d be freaking the fuck out right about now.

  “Oh, Denver,” Austin moans, exaggeratedly. “Will you marry me?” All the rest of the guys headed to the platform laugh and carry on.

  “For the fifth time today, yes Austin, I will marry you,” Denver says as she reaches the top and grabs Austin’s arms, hauling him to the sturdy wood that she will catapult herself from in just a moment. My damn heart is about to beat out of my chest—98% excitement, 2% fear. “Just remember I like to spend lots of money, I don’t bathe, take orders, give head—” she pauses “—massages.” Unfurling the rope, she walks it to the back edge of the platform.

  “Baby, you could just stand there for all I care. I’d be happy just to call you mine.”

  “What the fuck?” I hear from behind me.

  I glance over my shoulder at Greer. “You gonna stop her?”

  “And get my ass kicked?” he laughs. “Hell, no. She’s knows what she’s doing. I would like for Austin to get his slimy eyes off of her, though.”

  “He’s harmless. She knows that.”

  “Didn’t you tell me he’s your cousin?”

  “Yep,” I say with a shake of my head. “Sure is.”

  Greer throws me a grimace. “Too bad he doesn’t act more like you.”

  Laughing, I look back to Denver. He should be happy I’m not like Austin. Austin’s on the up and up about his desire for Denver. Mine is secret, making it all the more real, and all the more dangerous.

  She’s pulled the rope back to the jumping off point and looks confused. “Austin,” she says, cocking a hip and putting a hand on it. “How did you say this goes again?”

  “Oh, just let Austin get behind you, so he can tutor you.” He moves behind her. “I’m a believer in hands on instruction, Denver. You good with that?”

  “Touch me, and I’ll elbow you in the face.”

  “Aw, you’re sucking the fun out of the whole experience. And that’s one of the few times that sucking happens to be frowned upon,” he grunts since Denver has made good on her threat to throw an elbow. Fortunately for him, she aims for his stomach not his face. “OK … you’re gonna step back to gain some momentum before you throw your legs around the rope and hold the knot between your feet.” He puts his hands out and looks like he’s mimicking stroking his dick and not giving her instructions on how not to maim or kill herself. Denver looks at his hand placement and just shakes her head. “Once you get those legs around that rope, you’re gonna clench your butt cheeks real hard. I need to see those muscles moving from here. Got it?” She nods. “When you feel like you’re about to swing back in, that’s as far out as you’re going and … let go. You can fold your arms around your legs so as not to hurt your … pretty pink taco,” he finishes with a wink and grin.

  Everybody cracks up except for the girls who mutter, “Gross.” He steps back and scratches his head. “On second thought, odds of you coming out of those bottoms are greater if you don’t bend your legs.”

  She throws her head back in laughter and shakes her hair around so that it’s all out of her face. “Thanks, Austin. Anything else?”

  Austin slaps her on her ass and says, “Don’t forget to scream my name.”

  “Got it.”

  She steps back, gets her momentum, and swings out over the creek. Her hair streams straight back, looking like stardust as the light filters through it.

  Austin groans and yells, “Denver, please know I’m picturing you naked right now, and I’m the rope you’re wrapped around.”

  I hear her laughter over all the others. When she peaks, she throws herself backward, tucking her legs in the tight circle her arms have formed. “Hell, yeah!” she shouts as she somersaults doing not one but two flawless back flips. She straightens at the last possible second to dive under the water.

  “Argh!” she howls as she pops back up like a cork. “This shit’s cold! Two perfect back flips. Beat that, boys!”

  “You big tease,” Austin shouts from the platform as all the guys below cheer and whistle. “You said you were a virgin.”

  “You made it feel like my first time all over again, Austin,” she teases and blows him a kiss.

  For the record, I’ve never before in my life been jealous of my cousin. I want nothing more than to be on the receiving end of her laughter and her kisses.

  I hear Becky and Amber start giggling like schoolgirls, and I glance at them before my gaze finds its way back to a water-drenched Denver whose fucking bikini is clinging to her every curve. Blood rushes and pounds in my ears violently before getting the fuck out of Dodge to rush its way down south. I find myself wondering if her bountiful breasts will fit in my unworthy hands. Bountiful, there’s a word I’m sure I’ve never used, but … Fuck. Me.

  Believe it or not, I’m able to tear my eyes away and take in her gently rounded stomach and belly dancer hips. She may be only eighteen, but she has the body of a voluptuous woman. And, thick as she is, I’ve seen her muscles working in the arena and on the rope swing just now. Yeah, she’s hot.

  “And here I thought I was special,” Austin throws down.

  When she reaches the sandbar, she glances up at Austin and yells back, “You’re a fabulous teacher.”

  Greer picks that moment to catch her off-guard as he rushes forward, hoisting her up on his shoulder and charging into the water. She does that girly thing where she protests and shrieks for a minute. Then she springs out of the water, and as the rivulets of water trickle down her body, she dunks Greer, which is not very girly. My respect for her is restored.

  Still in the water, she and Greer watch Austin swing. “Kowabunga!” he yells, right before he does a single. He pops up and kicks over to Denver, encircling her in his arms and spinning her around. Greer dodges the wake her legs make.

  “You’re a little smarty pants, aren’t you?” She nods. “Denver, will you marry me?”

  It’s Austin’s turn for a dunk.

  “Ugh!” I hear Amber curse softly. “What a tramp. Look at her. She’s got them all eating out of the palm of her hand.”

  “Well, of course she does, Amber,” Becky says dramatically. “They already know her reputation and will play nice until she puts out. Just you wait, she’ll be outcast as soon as she’s been ridden hard and put up wet. She’ll be finishing her college experience either knocked up, fighting off various STDs, or hooking up with desperate married men because they’re the only ones who’ll have her at that point.”

  Amber cackles at the crude speculation. “Do you really think she only does the booty buddy thing? I mean, I’ve never heard of a girl not wanting a relationship and sleeping around like that.”

  “You heard what I heard,” Becky snickers. “And straight from the horse’s mouth. She’s a well-used fuck buddy.”

  My vision has been trained on her the entire, revelatory time that Becky and Amber shared Denver’s sexual practices. And what I see, I no longer like. What was beautiful and lively and strong just withered and died right in front of my very eyes. Where I saw a red string bikini, porcelain skin, blonde hair, and eyes that reminded me of Black-eyed Susans, I now see grayscale and worn edges and imagine a giant red “X” stamped across the entire picture. A slap on my shoulder jars me, and I turn to see Pete and Maggie just arriving. Maggie’s eyes dart around me to find Denver.

  “Man, you all right?”
Pete asks. “You look like someone just said you’ve drawn Bullzeye to ride in the finals.”

  I nod for a few seconds before I can form syllables. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Let’s go show ‘em how it’s done, brother.”

  Nodding is all I’m good for now. A couple of more guys take turns going off the rope swing while Pete and I make it to the platform. “Tandem?” he asks. Again, nodding. “Dude, shit, what’s wrong with you?” I shake my head at him.

  Pete and I swing out over the water and, throwing ourselves backward, complete singles.

  When I resurface, I swim over to the opposite bank rather than to the group now playing and splashing in the water, everyone oblivious to the fact that my wildest fantasies had just imploded, leaving me nothing but a smoking carcass. Damn, she captivated me these past couple of weeks, watching her around campus, in team meetings, at practice around the arena. She is, by far, one of the most fascinating women I’ve ever laid eyes on, and as odd as I thought it was at first, she reminds me of my mom. Self-made, honest, hardworking, focused, talented, and so fucking strong. All of that, combined with her quick wit, determination, and sure-fire beauty, had me thinking that she was the girl for me. Not just the girl for some fooling around. The girl.

  I’m reminded of the time my mom made brownies for her class and left them on the counter to cool. She caught me standing over them licking my lips and chided, “Nuh, uh, Johnny! Those are not meant for you. I had just enough to make for my students. You’ll have to sit this batch out, mister.” I wanted those brownies so bad that I had to convince myself that they were disgusting and were really made of my mud that just looked like chocolate. Underneath the trappings, nothing but dirt and water.

  My mom knew it and, being the compassionate woman she is, made me a bowl of Cocoa Puffs as a consolation prize. Sweet, but it wasn’t the same. Likewise with Denver, from what I’d seen, Denver was my shot at a rich, decadent fudge-covered brownie, making everyone else look like soggy Cocoa Puffs—diluted … processed.

  My attention is drawn from the playful group to Maggie and Pete making their way back up to the platform. I decide to quit pouting like a little boy who just had his brownies snatched away and swim back over to our group.