Undisputed

by A. S. Teague

  I dramatically clutch my heart then shoot her my best smile. “You’re too beautiful to waste it on your couch. Come have one nonalcoholic beverage with me.” I stick my bottom lip out in an attempt to look pathetic enough that she’ll say yes.

  Fuck. Am I really doing this?

  I’m rewarded for my efforts with a big smile and a quick nod. Yes. Yes. I fucking am.

  “How can I resist the puppy-dog face?” she laughs.

  Pumping my arms in the air, I shout, “She said yes!” Gripping her around the waist, I lift her off her feet and jokingly spin us both around in a circle. “She said yes!”

  Wiggling out of my arms, she shrieks, “Oh my god, put me down! Jesus, how drunk are you?”

  Grinning from ear to ear, I tell her, “I’ve only had three drinks.” I hold up five fingers and wink.

  Shaking her head, she mumbles, “Multiply that by two at least.”

  Ready to continue this conversation with a drink in my hand, I place my hand on the small of her back and guide her to the bar.

  Knocking on the bar with my knuckles, I get the bartender’s attention. “I’ll have a Crown and Coke. And the hottest chick in the club here wants a Shirley Temple.”

  Gripping my bicep, she interjects, “I’ll just take a water, please.”

  Normally, I’d throw in a flex for good measure.

  For this chick? I throw in three.

  A few minutes of fighting not to stare at her cleavage later, he sets the drinks in front of us. I hand hers over and offer my glass up in a toast.

  Raising one eyebrow at me, she smirks, “This ought to be good.”

  I clear my throat before saying, “To cell phones. May yours always be dead, sockets be missing, and heroes be plentiful.” I pause when I realize what I said. Then I correct myself. “And, by heroes, I mean me. May I be plentiful.” I clink her cup with mine.

  She giggles before taking a small sip. “Hear, hear.”

  “So, Sidney. What brought you to this amazing establishment tonight?” I ask.

  “A car,” she replies, her eyes twinkling.

  Repeating her word from earlier, I say, “Touché.”

  “It’s my birthday today,” she announces, which causes me to crane my head around.

  “What? It’s your birthday and you were on your way home to your couch and Netflix?” I look at her with mock horror.

  She laughs again.

  “Or were you really going home to Netflix and chill?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.

  Her eyebrows draw together. “Uhm, I guess I was gonna chill?” It’s a question.

  Surely, she knows what I’m referring to, but I ask anyway.

  “You do know what that means, right?”

  Shaking her head slowly back and forth, she replies, “No. Should I?”

  I gasp and bite my knuckles to keep from filling her in on the dirty details of her supposed night alone. “So, it’s your birthday. Where are your friends?” I ask, making a show of peering all around her.

  She shrugs, unimpressed. “Well, really, they’re more like coworkers. And I would assume they’re out there shakin’ their asses to whatever song this is.” She stirs the straw around her plastic cup of ice.

  I motion the bartender over once more. “It’s her birthday!” I shout over the music. “I believe another shot of water is in order!”

  He rolls his eyes, barely acknowledging that I’ve spoken.

  So I turn back to Sidney and gesture with my thumb. “Some people just don’t recognize an occasion to celebrate.”

  The red is still painting her cheeks when he sets the drinks in front of us. I hand her the fresh water.

  After taking a long pull of my drink, I say, “Coworkers, huh? What do you do for a living?”

  Smiling around her straw, she counters with, “What do you do? Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess.”

  After setting my drink down on the bar, I rub my hands together, “Oh, this should be good. Bring it on.”

  She tips her head to the side and makes a show of studying me. “Bodyguard for a celebrity?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek and then shake my head.

  “No? Hum. Professional football player?”

  I’ve heard that once or a million times. I roll my eyes and groan. “Gah. Is that all you’ve got?”

  She runs a hand through her silky, red hair, and I can’t help but notice how soft it looks. My fingers itch to touch her, but I keep my hands to myself.

  “I’ve got it! Professional javelin thrower?”

  I burst out laughing. I’m not even sure what the fuck a javelin is, but the way she laughs at her own guess has me wishing I could say yes and shock the shit out of her.

  “Man, you’re terrible at this game. Okay, my turn.” I don’t tell her what my actual job is because I don’t want to scare her off.

  Most women adore the idea of taming the prize fighter. Though I have an idea that this one might just run for the hills at the idea of any kind of violence. Anyone could see that, drunk or not, this woman is as wholesome as they come.

  Taking a page out of her book, I rake my eyes from her head to her toes. My gaze lingers on her face a little longer than necessary.

  Her cheeks pink before she rolls her eyes.

  Snapping out of it, I begin guessing. “Well, you’re beautiful. Obviously you’re a fashion model.”

  She’s at least a foot shorter than I am, so she won’t be walking any runways, but the way her eyes light up at my compliment have me patting myself on the back.

  She throws a wadded-up napkin at me. “You said I was bad. You’re worse than I am!”

  I dodge it easily. “Okay, well, you’ve missed your calling. Used car salesman—excuse me, used car saleswoman?”

  Her jaw drops. “Holy shit. How did you know? Wait, did I sell you that Kia minivan last week? I thought you looked familiar.”

  She’s teasing me, and I’m loving every minute of it. I’ve never had such a light, easy conversation with a woman before.

  I curl my lip. “You must have me mistaken with a different javelin thrower. There’s no way I’d be caught dead in a Kia.”

  Unable to resist any longer, I rub the ends of her wavy hair through my fingers. It’s just as soft as I’d imagined it would be. I lean forward, intent on kissing her, but I’m stopped by a hand pushing against my shoulder.

  Oh my God, this guy is gorgeous.

  I was having a good time dancing with Mindy when I realized I hadn’t let Abby know I was going to be late. After telling her that I needed to make a quick call, I left Mindy dancing with one of the other girls from the office.

  It wasn’t until I pulled my phone out that I realized I hadn’t charged it after leaving work. Kicking myself, I went off in search of a place to plug it in and ended up crawling around on the nasty floor near the bathrooms. Apparently, there was no type of code in nightclubs, because there wasn’t an outlet to be found.

  I was still hoping for a miracle when I heard a deep voice behind me ask if I was okay. The bitchy response was out of my mouth before I could stop it, and as soon as I looked up to see who was speaking to me, I regretted it.

  Leaning against the wall in front of me was the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Standing nearly a foot taller than I am, he was all muscle. His blue eyes sparkled mischievously under a strong brow, and his full lips were split wide in a smile. His nose had clearly been broken, but his strong jaw more than made up for it. He was rugged and handsome, and my body immediately responded to him in a way it had never done before.

  He was obviously drunk, but it didn’t stop him from being charming. Usually, guys who drink too much are a turn-off, but his quick wit that kept me laughing made it easy to overlook the fact that he’d had one too many Crown and Cokes.

  Sitting at the bar, joking back and forth, I couldn’t get enough. When he ran his fingers through my hair, I thought my heart would never start beating again. And the way he keeps looking at my lips like he wants to ki
ss me has my stomach doing somersaults.

  He leaned forward, and I knew he was about to kiss me. So I gave him a gentle push on his shoulder, stopping his forward progress.

  “Hey there. No kissing on the first date.”

  He pokes his lower lip out at me again. “But your lips looked so lonely. I was just trying to introduce them to mine-you know so they could get to know each other.”

  I can’t help but laugh. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I quirk my lips. “Another cheesy pickup line? You are really putting it all out there. Puppy-dog face isn’t working this time though.”

  Even though I am saying the words, my mind is screaming for him to ignore me and let his lips have their way with mine.

  He stands and moves in so close that I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s masculine and strong, but not overwhelming. It’s the most amazing scent, and I don’t even care if it borders on crazy—I decide I’m asking what it is so that I can buy a bottle to keep by my bed at night.

  Leaning over, he whispers in my ear, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I’ve been staring at your perfect mouth all night. Every time you lick your lips, my tongue gets jealous. I need to taste you.” He pulls back, and there’s a half smile on his face.

  My stomach drops, and I tip my face up to his. My stupid kissing rule be damned. I want his mouth on mine more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

  The corners of my mouth tip up slightly, giving him permission to have his way with me, and I close my eyes as he begins to lean in.

  Suddenly, someone grabs my arm and jerks me off my barstool. My eyes fly open, and I see Jake beside me, red-faced.

  “Wha—” I start before he interrupts.

  “Back the fuck off, you cocksucker!” He’s shouting, but I have no idea at who.

  Brock is in my line of vision again, and his face is twisted in rage. He grabs my other arm and pulls me towards him.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he shouts at Jake.

  I’m being pulled back and forth between them like a rag doll. Brock’s strength wins, and he pushes me behind him before getting in Jake’s face.

  Shoving him, Jake barks, “Get your hands off my woman, you asshole.”

  I shake my head in shock.

  His woman?

  Stepping around the wall of muscle, I shove my way between the two men. ”Hey, hey, hey. Let’s calm down.” I glance back and forth before narrowing my eyes at Jake. “And I am not your woman.” I tell him sharply.

  Jake grabs my arm again and pulls me in his direction. I trip over his feet and land squarely on my ass, screaming as I fall. Jake’s eyes narrow to slits moments before he takes a swing at the gorgeous man I’ve spent my evening talking to. Brock dodges Jake’s fist easily enough and glances down to where I’m sprawled on the ground. I landed hard on my wrist, so I’m clutching it my chest while trying to scramble to my feet.

  Brock grabs my good arm. “Are you okay?” he slurs, concern written all over his face.

  Nodding, I tell him, “I think I sprained my wrist.”

  A flurry of motion to my left catches my attention, as Jake charges once again. Dropping my arm, Brock turns and buries his shoulder in Jake’s stomach, sending him flying. Jake lands on the bar, and Brock instantly jumps on him.

  Crawling out of the way, I scream at them to stop. Mindy materializes beside me and pulls me away from the melee. I’m still screaming when another guy almost as big as Brock grabs him around the waist and pulls him away from Jake.

  As soon as Jake scrambles free of his grasp, he snatches a beer bottle off the bar and launches it at my suitor’s head.

  As quickly as it began, bouncers break it up and Jake is tossed out of the club. Grabbing my purse, I follow Mindy out of the bar. I search for Brock, but he’s nowhere to be found.

  I’m disappointed in the way the evening has ended, but I say nothing as I allow Mindy to lead me toward our cars.

  Pulling out of the parking lot, I look back at the club one last time. As I round the corner, the bouncer Mindy knew throws Brock and his friend out. I slam on my brakes, intent on going back but deciding better of it.

  Talking to him tonight was so much fun, but his aggression and violence freaked me out. I continue to watch him interact with his buddy in my rearview mirror.

  From way his friend’s hands are swinging wildly, it looks as though they’re arguing about something. After a few minutes of their back-and-forth exchange, his friend places a phone to his ear.

  Moments later, a cab pulls up and the friend shoves him in the back seat before scrambling in after him.

  Shoulders sagging, I take one last longing look at the most interesting man I’ve ever met before I put the car in gear and head home.

  After getting out of the shower the next morning, I turn the TV on, immediately caught off guard by the sound of my name coming out of the news anchor’s mouth. My head is killing me, and I have to turn the volume down as she begins her segment.

  “Mixed Martial Arts superstar Breccan Carlisle seems to be enjoying his latest victory in the cage. But is he enjoying it too much? Our sources have told us that Carlisle was at Club Raw until the wee hours of the morning before being thrown out amidst what is best described as a barroom brawl. No word yet on whether any charges will be filed against him for the damages done to the club. Management says they are reviewing security tapes and will make their decision later in the day.”

  The screen flashes to several pictures of me, clearly intoxicated, being dragged out of the club by Tripp, several angry-looking bouncers on our heels.

  I rack my brain, trying to remember exactly what went down that resulted in my being kicked out.

  “Tripp! Hey, man. What happened while we were out last night? I just saw myself on the news, and…let’s just say it wasn’t anything flattering,” I say as my best friend walks in to the kitchen, rubbing his face.

  I need at least a whole pot of coffee and about ten aspirin. I’m rummaging through the cabinet, looking for anything clean I can pour my coffee into, when Tripp starts laughing. Only his laugh is devoid of any actual humor.

  “You got drunk. That’s what happened. What else is there to say, man? Pretty much the usual. You ordered liquor, drank more than any human should be allowed, then decided you needed to get laid and went off to pick up some chick. I don’t know for sure, but I assume you tried to pick up another guy’s chick, and when he called you out on it, a brawl ensued.”

  I blink, desperately trying to remember any of what he just told me. “I met a chick. I remember now. I think. What was her name?” I’m thinking out loud.

  Tripp throws his arms out to the sides. “I don’t fucking know. You meet a lot of chicks. Apparently, this one’s name was ‘already taken’ though, ’cause you almost knocked her dude out.”

  Shaking my head, I tell him, “No. She wasn’t his. That’s why I hit him. I think. Fuck, I drank too much. Man, how the fuck did we get home?”

  He waves his phone at me. “You wouldn’t give me your fucking keys, so I shoved your ass in the back seat of a cab. You should have just let me call one in the first place.”

  “You left Velma downtown overnight? You know I don’t leave her anywhere!” I bark, though I should be grateful that Tripp stepped up and played the responsible one for the night.

  Again.

  Tripp cracks his neck as his face starts to turn red—the telltale sign that he’s close to losing his temper with me.

  Trying to diffuse the situation before I end up in my second brawl in twelve hours, I cut him off as he opens his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. I know you were just trying to watch out for me. Look, let’s just go pick her up before the city does.” Then I turn to leave the kitchen.

  Tripp grabs me by the arm, forcing me to stop and face him. “Brec, we have been friends for as long as I can remember. You know I consider you my brother at this point. Mainly because I want to use your fame to my advantage, but also because I love you.”

&nbs
p; I can see where this is going, and I desperately want to stop him. I don’t do feelings. Not with chicks, and definitely not with the one guy who’s always had my back. A scene from last night flashes, and I remember wanting to tell him that I loved him. Grimacing at the memory, I silently thank God that those words did not make it out of my mouth. I don’t think I could stomach his spilling his guts to me.

  I smirk and wave him off. “T, I’m not gay. Stop hitting on me already,” I say in a lame attempt at humor but really just to get him to stop this conversation before it gets started. But it looks like Tripp isn’t taking no for an answer this morning as he holds his hand up to shut me up.

  “I’m not joking with you right now. You are my brother, and as your brother, it’s my duty to tell you this.” He closes the distance between us, stepping into my face until our chests nearly bump. “You need to stop. You’re partying too much, too hard. You’re lucky we were somewhere that the owners knew you.” He pokes my chest. “You’re lucky I was able to get you in that cab. And you are damn lucky that the other guy threw the first punch. What the hell is going on with you lately? Something’s been going on with you outside and inside the ring. Is there—”

  I interrupt him before he can press me further. He’s right, but I refuse to acknowledge that my fights have suffered.

  “Tripp, I’m fine. I had one bad fight.” Waving him off, I continue trying to prove my point. “Which I still won. So, even at my worst, I am better than the rest. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Now, let’s go get my truck. And can we please stop talking about last night? I need something to eat to soak up this alcohol.”

  And, with that, I effectively end the conversation about my partying habits. Tripp isn’t buying it, but he doesn’t press me any further.

  Three weeks later…

  The last few weeks of Connor’s dialysis treatments have been tough on both of us. In an effort to keep a sense of normalcy, we’ve allowed him to continue to attend school. His sessions are in the afternoon, three times a week. This has been beneficial to me as well because I’ve been able to continue to go to work every morning and attempt to get everything done before leaving to pick Connor up from school.