Logan (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel)

by Lane Hart

  “Right,” I reply, trying not to take that insult personally, but failing. “So why did you even ask?”

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” she says, and I can hear another female voice talking in the background.

  “Sara, wait, I don’t understand…”

  “I was asking for someone else, but I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to hire her.”

  “Who were you asking for?” I pry.

  “No one, really,” Sara says, still talking over the female voice in the background. “Riley was looking for a job and wanted to get some experience while she sends out applications.”

  My eyes threaten to pop clear out of my head.

  “Ry…Riley?” I stammer. “She’s the one…she needs a job and wants to work in photography?”

  “Yeah, you probably remember her. She’s the girl that came to the beach with Cheryl this summer.”

  Oh, I fucking remember her all right. I remember her most nights with my dick in my hand and during the days, when I think about what a fucking moron I was to sleep with her. Although, you can’t really call what we did sleeping together. It was so much more than that, and I…miss her.

  “I don’t care about her stupid student loans, Cheryl, so give it a rest! She’ll find a job eventually,” Sara’s muted voice says over the phone, like she’s covering the microphone.

  Fuck.

  It sounds like Riley is desperate for a job, and Sara is adamant she doesn’t want her to work for me. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing when I could easily help. And, God, I really want to see Riley again.

  What I don’t understand is, if Sara clearly doesn’t like Riley, why would she ask me to help her find a job?

  “Sara, you called me because your friend needs a job, so why can’t she come work for me until she finds something full-time?” I ask calmly.

  “She’s not my friend,” she snaps. “She’s Cheryl’s.”

  “Then why are you trying to help her?” I ask in confusion.

  After a heavy sigh, Sara admits the truth. “To just get rid of her. I can’t stand her or the way she screws every man she sees!”

  I cringe hearing my daughter say something so harsh against the woman I can’t stop thinking about. And I hate knowing Riley’s probably been with plenty of men since she left here. But that’s my fault for letting her go, and it doesn’t change how I feel about her.

  Riley cared about me and I think I was actually starting to fall for her, when I let her up and leave because I couldn’t offer her a future. And now I may possibly have another chance with her. I had no idea that Riley was that serious about art, though.

  “What was Riley’s major?” I ask Sara, to change the subject from her social life and stick to some facts.

  “Cheryl says she was an art major.”

  “Really?” I ask in surprise. Riley never even mentioned that to me, only telling me she liked my work.

  “Yeah, liberal arts with a minor in photography,” she huffs. “Apparently she loves your photos and is like freaking obsessed with you. Cheryl said she has one of yours set as her screensaver, which is so pathetic.”

  “She does?” My dick shouldn’t be so goddamn happy about hearing that Riley loves one of my photos that much. “Which one?”

  “Which one?” she asks Cheryl. “Uh, the gold, full moon over the ocean at night or whatever,” she addresses me.

  “Full Moon Fever.”

  Does she have it because she still thinks about me and that first night we were together?

  “Yeah, anyway, like I said, she’s evidently infatuated with you, which is so freaking gross. And after the way she tried to flirt with you the week we were there, I don’t think you want her hanging around, constantly throwing herself at you. She’s such a slut. Yes, she is and everyone knows it!” Sara says when Cheryl obviously tries to defend Riley’s honor.

  “Sara, that’s enough!” I tell her, so angry at her accusations it causes my teeth to grind together, especially if Sara’s opinion rests on the bastard who drugged Riley. “Friend or not, you shouldn’t be so damn hateful,” I snap. “Give the phone to Cheryl.”

  “What? Why?” my daughter huffs.

  “Give the phone to Cheryl. Now!” I demand.

  I may not have given in to a relationship with Riley because I knew Sara couldn’t deal with it, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let her stop me from helping Riley when she obviously needs it.

  “Fine,” Sara mutters. “Here.”

  “Hello?” the voice I assume is Cheryl’s says.

  “Cheryl? Hi, it’s Brody.”

  “Hi, Mr. Harrington,” she replies, refusing to use my first name.

  “So, Riley is pretty desperate for a job?” I ask.

  “Yep,” she answers on a sigh. “But I don’t think her working for you is a good idea.”

  “You don’t?” I say in surprise.

  “Nope.” Her response is short and sweet without needing any elaboration.

  “But didn’t I hear Sara mention that her student loans are coming due soon?” I remind her.

  “Well, yeah. Her mom couldn’t help pay for any of her tuition…”

  “If she’s interested in getting a job in the art field, I could be her mentor until the end of the year. She could gain some valuable experience and take that with her when she finally finds something full-time,” I brag because, for whatever reason, I can’t let this opportunity to see her again go.

  “I don’t know,” Cheryl replies. “She needs a job, but she’s also getting over a broken heart. You wouldn’t want to deal with that drama.”

  I know exactly what she’s saying. Cheryl doesn’t think it would be good for her friend to see me again, for us to start something up, and Riley end up getting hurt again. And she’s right, I don’t want to hurt her. I want to help her.

  “How about this,” I offer, even if my gut and cock strongly disagrees. “She’ll be my assistant and nothing else. I’ll be…very professional. That’s it. Hands off.” I whisper the last two words so Sara can’t hear, in case she’s standing nearby. “Riley gets the experience she needs to apply for other jobs, and I get help around the studio.”

  “You think that’s…feasible?” she asks in disbelief.

  “Yes,” I answer, even if I’m pretty sure it’s a lie. “Talk to Riley, see what she says. If you have something to write with, I’ll give you my phone number to pass along to her if she has any questions or concerns.”

  “Fine,” Cheryl gives in reluctantly. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  I call out my number to her which she then reads back to make sure it’s correct.

  “Thanks, Cheryl. Tell Sara I’ll talk to her later,” I say before I end the call, not capable of dealing with any more of my daughter’s badmouthing, especially not when it’s about Riley.

  Then, I’m filled with even more anxiety than usual while I hold the phone in my hand and wait.

  Stabbing my fingers through the front of my hair, I keep wondering if Riley will agree to come down here again, and if so, will I really be able to keep my hands off of her?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Riley

  As soon as Cheryl comes back into the apartment, I can tell by her wince that she doesn’t have good news.

  “The spoiled little brat refused to help me?” I guess, patting the seat beside me on the sofa for her to join me and then spill.

  “No, I was right. She agreed, with the hopes of sending you off, far, far away.”

  “And? Did she call…did she call him?” I ask, unable to speak his name. It’s bad enough I say it in my dreams.

  “She did,” Cheryl answers with a slow nod.

  “Well? Will he check around and see if anyone is hiring?”

  “He told her about an assistant position that’s available right away,” she informs me.

  “Like a paid one?” I exclaim excitedly.

  “Yep. But it’s not permanent full-time, only for a few months –”
/>   “Great! Where? With whom? How do I apply?” I question her.

  “It’s yours if you want it, no application needed.”

  “Seriously?” I practically squeal. This is great and should give me plenty of time to look for a permanent position and save money. “What type of work will I be doing?”

  “You would be in a photography studio.”

  “Yes!” I exclaim, throwing both of my arms in the air. While I celebrate, I notice that Cheryl still doesn’t look happy for me. She looks…hesitant.

  “So, what’s with the frown?” I ask her, lowering my arms. “This sounds too good to be true and that’s because it is, isn’t it?”

  “Brace yourself,” she warns, telling me it’s bad. I grip the armrest to hold on tight. “It’s with Brody.”

  Wow.

  Hearing his name, knowing I have an opportunity to see him again, I’m not sure if I want to cheer again or throw up.

  “Does this mean…does he want…do you think…” I try to form a coherent thought, but it’s impossible.

  “Nothing has changed, Riles! If you go down there and start sleeping with him, you’re gonna get hurt all over again!” Cheryl warns.

  “Maybe this time will be different,” I say, but I don’t even begin to convince myself.

  “No, it won’t be different! You know that. He knows that. In fact, he promised to keep everything professional.”

  “He told Sara that?” I balk. “And she’s actually okay with me going to work with him?”

  “No, he told me that. And Sara is probably over there ready to spit fire,” she replies with a roll of her amber eyes.

  “You talked to him?” I whisper, my eyes bugging in surprise and jealousy.

  “Sara was talking shit about you, and he must have heard me in the background, so he told her to give me the phone.”

  “You…you talked to him?” I repeat in awe. “How did he sound? Did he sound good? Was his voice deep and rumbly on the phone, like a sexy grizzly bear?”

  “Yes,” she answers simply with her lips curving in a smile. “His voice is as hot as he is.”

  “Yeah,” I agree with a sigh, remembering his deep baritone.

  Reaching into her jean short pocket, Cheryl pulls out a slip of torn notebook paper and holds it up between her finger and thumb. “He gave me his number to pass along to you –”

  I jerk the scrap of paper from her grip before she can finish her sentence. Ten scribbled digits written in pen have never been as sacred as the ones in front of my eyes.

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Riles. It’s gonna end badly; probably worse than before,” Cheryl warns, but I’ve already made my decision.

  “You know I’ve been fucking miserable for weeks. This is a chance to see him again, without the sex or seeing him naked messing with my head. Maybe I can finally get closure, while I actually earn some money and experience in a field I love.”

  “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?” she asks with a huff that blows her hair around her face.

  “No.”

  “Then I guess you better start packing,” she replies.

  I launch myself at her, hugging her excitedly before I go pull out my luggage from underneath my bed and start throwing things inside. I place the small piece of paper with Brody’s number on top of the dresser so I won’t lose it.

  This time, I’ll need to pack up pretty much everything I own, since it’s not just for a week of vacation. I’ll be gone for months. Months! Which is when a thought occurs to me.

  Where the hell am I going to stay?

  Eyeing the sheet of paper on the dresser, I try to decide whether or not to call Brody. I do need to figure out my living arrangements before I go. If I call him right now, will I look too desperate? Yes, because I am. I want to talk to him so badly I could explode.

  No, this time will be different. I won’t give in to his incredible good looks, or his sweet words, or the way he touches me and makes me feel so good… Nope. None of that. I’ll work for him as his assistant, keeping myself busy by being an exemplary employee. In my free time, I’ll enjoy the beach and apply for jobs. There won’t be time for any hanky panky to happen.

  Except at night, when I’m alone in my bed, in the same city as Brody, wishing he was with me or I was back in his bed…

  I need to find one of those metal chastity belts from the medieval period that women would wear. The kind that required a key to get to the goods. Although, I bet that made using the restroom awkward.

  But I don’t have one of those devices, so I need to mentally strap a metal cage around my cunt and throw away the key. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  And tomorrow, I’ll call Brody and casually talk to him about the position. Not the one in which we’ll fuck, but the job he has available.

  This is gonna work out fine. And in a few months, when I find my perfect job, I’ll be glad to have gathered the courage to take this opportunity.

  Besides, I freakin’ love the beach. It’s my favorite place in the world.

  Or maybe that’s Brody’s beach house, and I’m getting the two confused.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brody

  I carried my phone in my hand all over the house last night and slept with it beside me, just in case Riley called. She didn’t.

  This morning, I’ve checked the settings a dozen times, making sure it will ring loud enough so that I won’t miss it.

  But doubt is starting to creep into my mind around lunchtime, when I still haven’t heard from Riley.

  Maybe she doesn’t want to work for me. Or ever see me again.

  I know I hurt her back in June. Each of her tears that last night were like mini daggers repeatedly stabbing me in the chest. It’s probably for the best that she doesn’t want to come back. Honestly, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep my hands off of her, which isn’t fair to her.

  Yeah, if she does call, that’s what I’ll tell her, that this probably isn’t going to work…

  Around two o’clock, when my phone rings, I quickly excuse myself from the couple I was photographing on the beach for their engagement photos, and step away to answer it. My fingers fumble to get the phone out of my pocket and answer it in time.

  The number on the screen isn’t familiar but it’s from the Piedmont’s area code, where the girls go to school.

  “Hello?” I say, hoping I wasn’t too late and she’s hung up.

  “Hi, Brody,” Riley answers, sounding so sweet and sexy through the phone that I nearly fall to my knees in the sand. Fuck, I’ve missed her voice.

  “Hey, how have you been, Riley?” I ask, trying to speak to her normally while keeping the nervousness out of my voice.

  “Good. I’ll be better if you really have a job for me,” she says, sounding so hopeful that I can’t possibly take this away from her.

  “I do,” I tell her, and then I launch into the specifics, trying to convince her to agree to take it. “It’s likely just full-time for now, until the hours gradually dwindle as the season winds down. You would be printing out internet orders and preparing them for shipping, helping with in studio sessions and on locations; weddings and whatever. There should be plenty of time for me to show you the ropes too, so that you can put it all down on your resume.”

  “Sounds great,” she replies after my longwinded enticement. “So, when would I start?”

  Fuck yes.

  “As soon as you want,” I tell her, hoping I don’t sound as anxious as I am for her to be back down here with me.

  “I guess that depends on how soon I can make living arrangements.”

  “Living arrangements?” I repeat in confusion, combing my fingers through my hair. “I just thought you could stay at the house.”

  “Brody,” she says, her voice heavy with exasperation. “You and I both know that’s not a good idea.”

  “Well, it’s free, so you could save money on rent. It’s right on the beach, which I know you love, and
you’ll have the whole second floor to yourself, other than the kitchen, fully-furnished of course, unlike most apartments you would be renting.”

  “I don’t know…” Riley sighs, not sounding the least bit convinced. But the idea of her not staying with me is so godawful that I tell a fib. Just a tiny one.

  “There have been some break-ins in the area recently, a few during the night while people were home, so I just wouldn’t feel safe with you staying someplace else,” I hold my breath, hoping that my lie will be enough to make her cave.

  “Oh,” she mutters. “But are you sure that my staying at your house won’t be a problem?” she asks and I know I have her. In fact, I nearly break out in a celebratory dance.

  “It won’t be a problem. And we can save on gas by carpooling back and forth to the studio.”

  “That’s true,” she agrees. “And my car isn’t entirely reliable…”

  “What do you mean?” I ask in concern. “Is it safe to drive down here? If not, I can come get you.”

  “No, Brody. I’ll be fine,” Riley assures me, and I can hear the smile in her voice. God, I’ve missed that fucking smile. “So, I guess I’ll see you on Friday?”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you then,” I reply with a smile before she hangs up.

  Afterwards, I realize in my excitement that I forgot I have appointments on Friday afternoon.

  Shit.

  Rather than cancel, I save Riley’s number in my phone, which reminds me that I don’t even know her last name. And then I send her a text message, telling her I’ll be at the studio until probably four on Friday, and give her the address so she can come by if she gets into town before then.

  Riley quickly responds with her thanks and she would like to see the studio anyway, so she’ll make sure she gets there early.

  I’m so hyped up that I nearly forget Greg and Melissa are waiting for me for their photos. Thankfully, the couple is so in love that they don’t appear to have minded the alone time when I get back to them. They’re making out like teenagers and as I snap sweet candid images of them without them noticing; they remind me just how much I want what they have.