Breaking Her Rules

by Jennifer Snow

  “I really don’t care what Walker thinks,” he said tightly.

  Okay, bringing Walker into this probably wasn’t the best idea.

  “I think it’s a great idea, and Faith and I went over the details last night.”

  They what? “You met with Faith last night?” It wasn’t jealousy she felt, just a mild sting she had no right to feel. She’d spent the night having sex with Walker, she reminded herself.

  “We had dinner last night at Toledo—two jilted exes making the best out of the situation.”

  She bet they had.

  “And talking business of course.”

  She didn’t doubt that. Erik always had business at the forefront.

  “She also told me about your incident with the waiter there last week.”

  She detected a hint of amusement in his voice and her jaw clenched. “That was the night of my birthday, the night you stood me up,” she said, and immediately regretted getting dragged into a potential argument about their relationship. “Anyway, back to the segment. I’m not sure the gyms will want camera crews in the way while their fighters are training.”

  He shrugged. “It’s great publicity for the fighters and the gyms. I’ve already talked to Rex, and we’re going to give it a try, so I’ll need promo sheets designed and on my desk by the end of today.”

  Her mouth gaped. End of today. So, that’s how things were going to go. She recovered quickly. Standing with a smile, she said, “No problem. I’ll have mock-ups on your desk by four.”

  In the hallway, she took a deep breath. She could do this. She’d never fully believed in herself and her skills before, always thinking it was Erik’s influence that had secured this position for her. Well, now was her chance to prove herself wrong.

  Five insane hours later, she smiled as she set the mock-ups on his desk. They weren’t her best work, but given the quick turnaround, and the limited resources Knock Out Sports had been able to provide in the time frame, she was happy with them.

  Erik scanned them.

  She waited. No doubt he would find something wrong with them, and she mentally prepared for his criticism and an all-nighter at the office.

  But, when he looked at her, he smiled. For a brief second, she actually caught a glimpse of the man she’d once been attracted to, and she swallowed hard. “They’re okay?”

  “They’re brilliant. Great job, Grace.”

  Stunned, she blinked twice. Brilliant? That was unexpected. “Thank you,” she said. Leaving the office triumphant, relief flowed through her. She’d been silly to think Erik would somehow use their personal history and recent breakup to make her life at work harder. All he cared about was the job, the success of the organization—wasn’t that the reason she’d ended things?

  He was a professional. Things would be fine. She had nothing to worry about.

  ***

  At least not at work.

  “What do you mean no sex?” Gracie asked later that evening as Walker entered the apartment and delivered the news.

  “Tyson’s rules . . . I’m sorry,” Walker said, grabbing a new T-shirt and training shorts from his suitcase in the closet.

  “What Tyson doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” No sex. Yeah right. She’d just started having sex with Walker. She wasn’t about to stop now. “Besides, that whole no-sex thing before a fight is bullshit.”

  “Bullshit or not—I have to honor Tyson’s rules or he’s going to send me in there unaffiliated.”

  Damn. Tyson meant business. “Okay . . . but how is he supposed to know?” She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and sliding her hands under his shirt. His back muscles tightened under her touch and she snuggled closer, loving how he smelled after training, slightly sweaty and masculine. Moving her hands around and up his stomach, she sighed. She might have casually downplayed his hotness before, but man, he was sexy. Fighters and amazing bodies went hand in hand, but Walker took sexy to a whole new level . . . and she finally got to experience it personally.

  He moved away. “Stop. I can’t resist you when you do that.”

  “That’s the point.” She tugged on the end of his shirt, but he shook his head.

  “I can’t, Gracie.”

  She crossed her arms across her chest. “You’re actually serious about this? You’re not going to have sex with me until after the fight?”

  He dropped his bag on the floor and hugged her. “Trust me, it’s not going to be easy. I was getting hard just thinking about this morning,” he whispered against her ear.

  Shivers danced up and down her spine at the memory that had stayed with her all day, making her lose her train of thought more than once.

  “But,” Walker continued, “I have to listen to Tyson, okay? There’s a lot more than my fighting career on the line. I don’t want to make him or his training camp look bad, and you said yourself I need to get serious about this fight. And I’m really sorry, but I have to get back to the gym.”

  “You don’t even have time for a quick kiss or two?” She pouted.

  He kissed her forehead. “You know that’s not possible. The moment I start kissing you . . .” He pulled away. “See, I can’t even think about it. I have to go.”

  She sighed. “This sucks.”

  “I know,” he said, drawing her into his arms again. “But it’s just a week.”

  She nodded, removing herself from his arms. Just a week. She could live with that, but it didn’t mean she had to like it. Going to the closet, she grabbed the pillow and blankets he’d been using on her couch and tossed them to him. “Then I guess you’re back on the couch.”

  ***

  Leaving Gracie when she was clearly frustrated with him took every ounce of strength he had left, but it was necessary. He needed Tyson, and he would go along with whatever his coach insisted on.

  Which meant next he had to call Maria.

  He hesitated, staring at her number in his phone.

  Come on man, grow a pair.

  He hit dial and paced outside his Jeep in the driveway.

  “ShadowDancers,” her gruff voice said a moment later. “We don’t take reservations.”

  Shit. In truth, he’d been praying for her voice mail. “Maria, it’s Walker.”

  “Why are you calling me from behind the bar?”

  “I’m not there yet,” he said, glancing at his watch. His shift was scheduled to start in an hour. He should have been stocking the bar by now. Damn. He’d meant to give her more notice that this, but Tyson hadn’t let him break for anything more than to piss, and even that was timed.

  “Which leads me to the next obvious question. Why the hell not?”

  “Maria . . . I . . . uh . . . I can’t work this week.”

  Silence met him on the other end. He’d expected her to lose her shit. This was almost worse. “Maria?”

  “Give me a second, I’m signing your termination papers.”

  He closed his eyes and banged his fist against the top of his Jeep door as the dial tone sounded. “Fuck!”

  First, Gracie kicking him back out onto the couch, and now Maria firing him from the bar. He threw open the door to the Jeep and climbed inside. He slammed it and tore out of the driveway, heading back toward the gym. At least his hard-on was gone and he was more than in the mood to punch something.

  He had to make this fight count. Right now, until it was over, it was all he had.

  ***

  It was after two a.m. when he unlocked the door and quietly entered the dark apartment. His entire body ached and his eyes struggled to stay open, his coach having pushed a week’s worth of training into one day. It was okay. It’s what he needed. He considered everything Tyson gave him going forward a gift, despite the aching muscles and exhaustion. He put his bag in the closet and noticing a light coming from Gracie’s room at the end of the hallway, he quietly made his way toward it.

  She was asleep, curled into a ball on her side, the lamp on her bedside table lit and her cell phone clutched
in her hand. He walked into the room and gently slid the phone from her hand, plugging it in to the charger and then covering her with a blanket. His hand lingered on her arm, and he bent to kiss her cheek. She moaned in her sleep, but didn’t wake.

  He turned off her lamp and stared at her, so beautiful in the faint beam of light streaming through the slightly open curtain at the window.

  God, his feelings had come out of nowhere these past few weeks. Feelings he’d never experienced before for anyone, and definitely ones he hadn’t expected to feel for his baby sister’s best friend. He wanted to give her everything. Everything she’d never had, everything she needed, and everything she deserved.

  And right now, he wanted to hold her, feel her heart beat against him. Getting undressed, he pulled back the covers and slid into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair, the smell of jasmine filling his senses. It felt so good to be there next to her.

  Her breathing changed and she rolled toward him. “I thought I told you to sleep on the couch,” she whispered sleepily.

  “You didn’t mean that,” he said, kissing her forehead and drawing her even closer. She was so warm, so soft, and so perfect. And it wasn’t his body reacting to her right now. It was his heart.

  “What about Tyson’s rules?” she asked through a yawn, her eyes drifting closed again.

  He smoothed her dark hair away from her face and kissed her eyelids. “There was no rule that said I can’t fall in love with you,” he whispered, but he knew she hadn’t heard him as she’d drifted back to sleep.

  Chapter 13

  The week passed both too quickly and excruciatingly slowly. Training fifteen hours a day, falling into bed exhausted, but too jacked up to sleep, Walker was desperate to get inside the octagon the following evening and put himself to the test. Despite everything, that week had only further confirmed what he’d believed. Fighting was what he wanted to do. The more time he spent in the gym, the more he sparred, the more he polished his techniques, the more he wanted this life.

  Everything had always come easy for him—school, sports, women—but fighting was different. Sure, he had a natural aptitude for sports, but MMA was brutally unforgiving. For the first time, he knew what it felt like to work without limits, push past all boundaries to succeed.

  “Better . . . good . . .” Tyson’s words held a new confidence in him now that only fueled him to go harder, faster, stronger.

  The door to the gym opened and Erik entered.

  “The gym is closed for fight preparation today,” Dane said at the front desk.

  Erik ignored him as he approached the cage.

  “What is he doing here?” Walker asked Tyson, hitting the targets he held. The fight weigh-ins were that evening and he still needed to cut a pound and a half. After this session, into the sauna with the bike he went. He really didn’t have the time or the energy to waste dealing with Erik.

  “Take a break for a sec; I need to talk to you,” the executive said, leaning against the ropes.

  “You’re going to get sweat on your suit,” Walker said, throwing several combinations.

  “I just need a minute. I have an offer for you.”

  “Can we talk after the fight?” he asked, missing his next shot.

  “No.”

  Tyson dropped the pads. “You’ve got five minutes, then I need you in that sauna,” he said, climbing out over the ropes past Erik and heading toward his office.

  Walker chugged a bottle of water and tossed it into the recycling bin near the door. He’d be sweating it out again in a matter of minutes, but he’d die without it. It would be the last drop he consumed until later that evening, once he’d officially made weight. Hands on his hips, steadying his breathing, he said, “You heard Tyson. I have five minutes—what’s up?”

  Erik pulled a contract from his pocket and handed it to him.

  Walker tugged off his bag gloves and took the contract. He scanned it quickly. Erik was guaranteeing him two more fights within a year as long as he made it past the first round in this fight with Cruz.

  There was a catch. There was always a catch. He handed back the contract. He was pretty sure he knew what the executive wanted in exchange for the opportunity he was presenting him, and he wasn’t interested. “Once I win this fight, my manager will be in touch to renegotiate my contract,” he said, climbing out of the cage.

  Erik laughed. “You can be a cocky asshole all you want in the safety of this gym, with sparring partners going eighty percent and a coach who has his own future in fighting to worry about. But once you get out there tomorrow night . . .” He shook his head. “Forget tomorrow night, once you square off with Cruz at the weigh-ins tonight? You’re done, man. You’re good, Walker, but not that good. Not yet. But you could be. You could be great. One of the best in this weight class. Here’s an opportunity to prove it to yourself, and the rest of the world.”

  Walker’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for you?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

  “I think you know. Walk away from Grace.”

  “Get the fuck out of here, man.” He turned to head to the locker room, but Erik caught his arm. Walker glanced at the other man’s hold. “Touch me again, and we won’t need to negotiate anything,” he said, freeing his arm.

  “Do you really think Grace will be happy with you?”

  Adrenaline surged through him. Don’t rise to the challenge. He’s baiting you. Knocking out the MFL’s matchmaker would put an end to his career immediately, and he’d worked too hard that week to jeopardize it now. “Gracie made her choice.”

  “And she chose what? A mediocre fighter who wouldn’t even have a place to sleep if she hadn’t let him sleep on her couch? Don’t fool yourself into believing she’ll be happy with you for long.” He took a step toward him. “Grace was in love with you years ago—when you had the support of a wealthy family and a home life she never had. She thought you were going to be a lawyer, not a broke fighter.”

  “She doesn’t care about those things,” he said, but the words had packed a punch. Security and stability were important to Gracie; she’d admitted that herself. But he could make a career out of fighting, a good career, and she was doing just fine taking care of herself these days. He knew she questioned her abilities, but he’d seen her work and knew with or without him, she wouldn’t struggle anymore.

  “Of course she does. And as soon as she realizes her mistake, she’s coming back to me.” He shoved the contract at him. “You may as well get something out of it, before you lose your girl and your career.” He turned and headed toward the door. “I’ll need your decision tomorrow before the fight.”

  As the door closed behind him, Walker stared at the contract in his hands. Two more guaranteed fights . . . if he walked away from Gracie. Win or lose the following evening, he’d have a guarantee of future fights and a fair chance to prove himself inside the cage. No three-week fill-in, where he was the underdog against a bigger, better prepared opponent.

  He balled up the contract. He wouldn’t even consider it. He was falling in love with Gracie. He would find another way. He would get past the first round in this fight if it killed him.

  As soon as she realizes her mistake, she’s coming back to me.

  Inside the locker room, he punched the locker. Damn it! Was Erik right? Would Gracie realize she needed more than he could give her? Would she run back to Erik now that she’d fulfilled her childhood crush fantasies of being with him?

  He opened his locker, and straightening the contract, he placed it inside his bag. Could he take that chance on her and risk losing it all?

  ***

  The pre-fight conference and weigh-ins at the Mandalay Bay Events Center that evening were a flurry of activity as Walker entered the press conference room with Tyson. “Holy shit,” he said, scanning the standing-room-only event.

  “Welcome to your first weigh-in,” Tyson said, waving to several fighters in the far corner.

&nb
sp; “Your scale at the gym was right, wasn’t it?” The last thing he needed was not to make weight after three weeks of training.

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Tyson said, then laughed. “My shit’s solid, man. I even put it off by a pound heavier to be sure. You haven’t eaten anything? Drank anything?”

  Walker shook his head, nerves making him nauseated all day. Even if he’d been allowed to eat, he wouldn’t have been able to.

  “Then we’re good. Stop stressing. Tomorrow’s the day to do that.”

  “Thanks, Coach.” His palms were sweating. Well, he was probably losing more weight standing there waiting for the pre-fight conference to start.

  Media officials and reporters filled the seats in front of the stage, and executives from the MFL were talking to the fight judges and commissioners.

  “There you are,” Pat said, coming up behind them, out of breath. His dress shirt had pit stains, and his tie was crooked. Sweat gathered in beads on his forehead.

  “Did you run here?”

  “No. I sweat when I’m stressed. Are you going to make weight?” his manager asked.

  He nodded. “I should. I was half a pound under at the gym.”

  “Good, good, okay. Well, remember, when the sports reporters are drilling you with questions up there, stick to the rehearsed answer. You’re ready, you’re prepared . . . If you show any sign of nerves or apprehension up there next to Cruz, they will eat you alive, and he’ll think he can get inside your head.”

  “I know, I know . . .” He took a deep breath as he scanned the room for Gracie and saw her on the other side, handing out PR kits to the reporters. His stomach turned, remembering his conversation with Erik earlier that day.

  In fact, he saw Erik approach her now and lay a hand on her back as he leaned in to say something to her. His hands clenched at his sides. The two of them working together the past week had nearly driven him crazy, but Gracie’s reassurance it was him she wanted to be with, her body lying next to him at night and the passion and love in her kiss every morning, helped to ease his worry. Seeing them together now was a different story.