The Fighter's Stubborn Lover (The Burton Brothers Series Book 2)

by North, Leslie

  She was also picky. She flaked the frosting off the pastry, sniffed at her tea and stirred it twice. He watched her work and when she looked up and caught him watching, he put on a smile and asked, “See anything you like? Anything at all?”

  Her cheeks pinked and she looked away. “How do I convince you to at least stop training Dustin? That would be better than nothing.”

  She bit into her pastry. Two bites later, it was gone. Mason lifted his eyebrows. He knew the look of hunger when he saw it. “When was the last time you ate?”

  She straightened—but she also squirmed a little in her seat. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been travelling for the last few days. It took some time to find Dustin. I didn’t realize Gilson was so…so…”

  “Isolated? Back end of nowhere?” Mason nodded. “Helps keep a fighter focused. But Gilson’s big time for this part of Oregon. It’s got the only movie theater for almost two hundred miles in any direction.”

  Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Wow!” She caught herself and put back on the prim face. “Well, anyway, I’m here. And I’m staying until Dustin comes to his senses. So don’t tell me this is probably the biggest mistake of my life—I have to do something! I don’t think I could handle losing Dustin as well…” She bit off the words and her face paled.

  For a second Mason wondered if she was going to go down on him again, but she picked up her tea and sipped it. He could see her pulling in deep breaths. As well as what? But she was right. It wasn’t any of his business. No, he’d been dragged into this by Dustin and now by her, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in the middle of this family argument.

  He let out a breath. “Look, it’s late enough, and I was headed to dinner. How about I buy and you can explain why you don’t want Dustin fighting?” Mason gave her a small grin. He stood and picked up her coat off the back of her chair. He held it out for her to put on.

  “Pushy much?” she asked.

  He just kept holding her coat out so she could put it on. Standing, Avery slid her arms into the sleeves of her jacket. She grabbed her scarf and woolen hat from the table. “Does dinner also mean I don’t just explain—you’ll actually listen?”

  “Heart to God.” Mason said, putting his hand on his chest. “Now, come on, let’s get a table before all the greedy people get there.”

  He held the door for her, and caught a sideways look from her for it. What—didn’t she think guys should have manners? His mom had drilled them into him. Outside, the wind had picked up and felt like it was coming straight off the Arctic Circle. It pushed snow into his face. He grabbed Avery’s gloved hand. “So we don’t get lost.” Pulling her with him, he led the way down a block and crossed into Bob’s Place.

  Inside, a bell jingled over the door. Warmth and the aroma of good cooking hit him like a blanket—a really comfortable, homey one. He dragged off his coat and called out, “Hey, Beth.”

  Beth looked up from behind the back counter. Solidly built, it was clear she loved her husband’s cooking. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a pony tail, and had on a plaid shirt, jeans, and sturdy boots. She always looked ready to head out to the back woods to cut lumber. She grinned. “Hey there, Mason. You got company?”

  “Sure do. This is Avery. What’s the special today?”

  “Robert’s made his famous meatloaf with mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans.”

  “Sounds good to me. Make that two specials.”

  Next to him, Avery cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but could I just have soup and a grilled cheese?”

  Mason stared at her, but Beth smiled and nodded. “Coming right up. Take your pick of tables, the dinner crowd hasn’t shown up as of yet. I’ll bring you some waters.”

  Beth sauntered off, whistling as she headed toward the kitchen. Mason selected a table next to the windows, removing his coat and throwing it over one of the extra chairs. “This okay with you?”

  Avery began to take off her winter wear again. When she finally removed everything, he was once again amazed at the beautiful woman concealed underneath the bulky clothing. She wasn’t model thin, but she had a nice trim waist and curves in all the right places. And that long hair—that could give a guy fantasies for a decade. She plopped down in the bentwood chair opposite him. “I asked for help with Dustin, not with my entire life.”

  He grinned and propped his chin on his hand and his elbow on the table. “Seems to me you need help—driving all this way, not eating, thinking you can order your brother around. Ever occur to you he’s a grown man?”

  Her mouth thinned, and he wondered what she’d do if he leaned over and kissed her. Hard. Glancing down at the table, she started rearranging her silverware. “About Dustin…?”

  Mason straightened. “Why would you want to deprive Dustin of something he’s obviously good at and loves? What’s got you spooked? I mean I’ve heard pretty much all of it. For some folks its religion or fear of blood or injury, or you think maybe he’s too sensitive?”

  Avery looked up. “I don’t want him to get hurt. He’s all I have.” A look of utter sadness flashed briefly in her blue eyes. “You must know our parents are dead. And…well, I don’t think Dustin’s realized what really could happen. He’s never been good about looking after himself and…well, you know I have asthma. Dustin may have medical conditions that he—”

  “No. Dustin’s in great shape. Every fighter knows he needs to look after his body. And Dustin knows the score. He isn’t afraid of a few bruises, or cuts, or—”

  “Dying?” Avery slammed her hand down on the table, her palm flat. The silverware rattled. “Do you really think he’s thought about that?” She curled her hand into a fist and stared him down. Tears glittered in her eyes.

  Mason sat back and waited. Would she get her control back or was she going to fall apart? He tried to read her and figure out what to do. His dad had been a family therapist by day and a Sensei and martial arts teacher by night. Often, the two had melded together.

  Mason could remember numerous times when his father had been pulled from the dojo floor to deal with an emotional parent. He’d been a great listener. “Always give them plenty of time to calm down—you can’t talk when emotions are high.” That had been dad’s philosophy.

  Avery brushed at her eyes. After a moment, she looked up. “How much did Dustin tell you about us…about his family?”

  “Not much, to tell the truth. I mean, he did mention he had a sister. You. But…well, he said you weren’t all that hyped on him fighting and that’s about it.”

  Avery nodded. Beth came out with the food and Mason said, “Look, how about a time out? Enjoy our food first, talk later. No sense mixing the two—they never do mix all that well. Tell me about…about your cat or something.”

  “Cat?” A fraction of a smile tugged at her mouth. “I don’t have a cat.”

  He smiled. “What? I thought every witch had a cat, and you’re bewitching me a little here.”

  She stared at him. “Does that line ever work for you?”

  He gave a laugh. “Nope. Okay, no cat and not a witch. Let’s stick with the weather—or I’ll tell you about my brothers. That’ll fill the dinner time.” He watched her cut the crust off her sandwich. She ate about half of it, sipped her soup, added pepper, pulled out half the veggies and spooned up only the broth. She was more than picky—she was a girl with something tugging on her. And tugging hard.

  When it looked like she wasn’t going to eat anything more, he pushed back his plate and asked, “So explain to me why you think Dustin is in danger of dying if he fights?”

  Chapter Three

  Avery’s throat tightened. “I’ve seen…” She pulled in a breath and let it out. “My brother trained to fight in the MMA. But he couldn’t wait. He got into underground cage fighting.”

  “Wait a minute? Dustin went underground?”

  She shook her head. “Not Dustin. Edward. He was the oldest.” She looked up at him. “You must know what it’
s like—no holds barred. No rules. No referees. Ed got his neck broken. I’ve already lost one brother to fighting. I can’t lose another. I just can’t!”

  Mason could easily understand where she was coming from, but her other brother had died in an underground fight. “You do know the MMA has rules designed to keep the fighters safe to fight another day. There’s a difference between the two venues.”

  “And what if Dustin wants a shortcut, too?”

  He shook his head. “What Dustin’s training to do isn’t like the fight that killed your brother. I’ve been fighting for eight years and I’ve never had anything worse than a concussion.”

  Avery’s mouth thinned. She crossed her arms. “Which could leave you with brain damage when you’re older, or worse medical conditions. And Dustin’s not nearly as big or strong as you are. He’s going to get hurt—badly!”

  Mason struggled to find a way to help her see a different side of MMA. “Look, why don’t you come back up to the training compound with me? You can watch him train and see for yourself that he’s ready for this upcoming fight. And that this is really good for him. You try to get him off track with MMA and you may just push him underground.”

  “He’s going to be angry with me for tracking him down.”

  He grinned. “Probably. I have two brothers myself, and every time I’ve tried to protect them from themselves we’ve ended up nearly killing each other.” Seeing the look of horror cross her face, he tried to soften his word’s impact. “That’s metaphorical killing. Look, I’ve only known Dustin for a few months, and yeah maybe he’s not going to thank you for showing up, but you’re family. He’ll get over it and he might surprise you. Now, if you’re finished eating, show me where you’re parked. You can follow me up to the training compound.”

  Avery bit her lip for a moment before she slowly nodded. “Okay. I’m parked a little ways from the post office.”

  “Good. My truck’s right in front of the post office. Why don’t you ride with me? Dustin can bring you back to town later?”

  Avery glancing at her watch and then outside the diner window. The sun was already starting to drop behind the mountains. It would most likely be dark by the time she was able to return to town. She shook her head and grabbed her cap. “Uhm…I really need to get a room first. I don’t think that’s something I want to handle in the dark. Maybe we could stop by a hotel?” She saw Mason shaking his head. “Let me guess, not only does Gilson not have fast food, it doesn’t have a hotel?”

  “Motel’s fifty miles west of here.”

  Avery huffed out a breath. “I thought small towns were supposed to be hospitable. Exactly where do people stay when they come here?”

  “With the people they’re here to visit. Gilson doesn’t usually get unwanted visitors.”

  Avery’s brow furrowed as she crossed her arms against her chest. “With a fifty miles drive, I think I’ll come back tomorrow and see Dustin.”

  “Nonsense. That’s fifty mountain miles. It’ll take you almost two hours, one way, to get there, and that’s if you get there given the snow that’s coming down. The plough has probably already been put away for the night. You can come up to the compound with me and you can stay in one of the extra cabins for the night. And we’ll just have to hope you don’t have to bunk with some new fighters coming in.”

  She stared at him. His eyes glittered bright and he held up a hand. “Kidding. You don’t joke around enough.”

  “That’s because I take this seriously—unlike you.”

  Mason shook his head. “Oh, fighting is serious business. It’s everything else I don’t take seriously. Now come on. The compound is a short-term training camp for those interested in fighting in the MMA world. We’ve got fighters coming in for two weeks intervals, and staying in the cabins at the compound. You’ll meet Tavvy—he helps run the place. And Terry Anders—he’s the best trainer around, but he’s just getting over a stroke so try not to notice too much if he talks a little funny.”

  She glanced sideways at him. “I’m not insensitive.”

  “Oh, I know that. But I just want to warn you—these guys are here to train. I’ve got a fight coming up in less than five months. And that means you need to work at not being a distraction.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I just want to convince Dustin to come home with me.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t plan to fail.” Avery donned her winter coat again. She was growing tired of the need to bundle up each time she stepped foot outside. She’d grown up in the mountains of Colorado, and even though they’d received lots of snow each winter, the air had never felt quite this cold.

  Who knew there’d be this much humidity so far from the ocean?

  She’d never been to Oregon before. The snow-covered mountains had reminded her of home, and had stirred a wistful yearning for her childhood—back when she Edward and Dustin had all been kids. She still missed Ed every damn day. She was not losing another brother to this brutal sport—and if that meant heading up to a training camp with a bunch of fighters, she’d do that, too.

  Glancing outside, she was glad Mason was driving. The snow was still coming down. When she’d encountered the fresh snow on the roads, she’d been grateful she’d learned to drive in the mountains of Colorado. But she’d also chosen to drive through the night last night—afraid that the snow would continue to fall and the roads would close before she could get through—and she wasn’t up to a second night of driving. She pulled her hat over her hair, not bothering to gather it up, or tuck it underneath. That required more energy than she had at the moment. With her stomach full, her lack of sleep was demanding attention next.

  Yawning, she glanced up to find Mason watching her with a gleam in his eyes. His light blue, almost gray eyes were mesmerizing. The color seemed to shift with his every mood and thought. What—did he know how little sleep she’d had? She felt herself blushing under his scrutiny. She wrapped her scarf over her face, glad for the cover it provided. Her winter clothes were more like armor—only she wasn’t sure if she wore it against the weather or Mason.

  Gathering up her purse and gloves, she gave him a nod. “I’m ready.”

  Chapter Four

  Mason paid their dinner tab. He poked his head into the kitchen to tell Beth good-bye and thank Robert for the meal. Heading back to the front door, he led Avery back out onto the sidewalk, one hand tucked into the small of her back. Or at least one hand on the back of her coat.

  He pointed to the F350 pickup sitting on the opposite side of the street—the one not quite covered in snow. “It’s the red truck up ahead there.”

  The truck had been a gift to himself several years back. Even though the gas mileage sucked, it had all the bells and whistles any guy could want. Including heated seats, which he had come to think of as a necessity in winter.

  Next to him, Avery matched his stride and asked, “Are you sure I shouldn’t just bring my own car?”

  He glanced at her, or at what little he could see of her given her cap and scarf. “What, worried you’ll be at my mercy?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  “More like worried that if Dustin gets really mad, he’s going to want me to leave. And without my car I’ll be stuck.”

  “All the more reason not to have it. Means he’s going to know you have to stay at least for the night. We can stop by your car so you can grab whatever you need for the night.” Mason looked up at the darkening sky, not liking the ever-increasing snow that was coming down.

  The Anders compound was three miles up the mountain, and while the roads were maintained by the county road department, they were still dirt and when a little snow was added in, they could be downright treacherous. “Besides, there’s no way I’m letting you drive up that mountain, so you might as well concede now! Ride with me tonight and I’ll make sure you get your vehicle tomorrow. Deal?”

  She gave in with a huff of breath and a muttered curse directed his way. Mason grin
ned and asked, “Did you say something?”

  “Yes, I said yes.”

  “Good. I’ll pull around the corner. Bring whatever you want and we’ll just toss your things in the back seat.”

  Mason guided her to his truck. He got her inside and then pulled around the building and stopped when she gestured to a late model Ford Taurus that was already looking half buried by snow. No way would she have made it up the mountain in that tonight. She sat next to him, fidgeting with her purse strap as if she was feeling out of her depth—or maybe nervous about being in such close proximity with a stranger.

  When he pulled up next to her car, she didn’t wait for him to help her, but jumped out of the truck and opened the back of her Taurus. Before he could get out, she pulled out a suitcase and a couple of other bags.

  Glancing around, Mason saw the street was empty. Smart people had already gotten themselves home and out of the cold. He threw the truck in park where it was and climbed out. Reaching out, he tried to take the biggest suitcase.

  Pulling away, she lugged the bags to his truck. “I can do it.”

  Mason opened the back door of the crew cab. “Never said you couldn’t. I was trying to be polite.”

  He saw her face flame red—or the small bits of cheek showing did. She pushed her bags onto the seat and turned to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  Mason started to offer her a hand up into his truck. Given her winter coat, the only place to put his hands would have been on her ass, and he didn’t think she’d appreciate being handled in such a fashion. Besides, she seemed to be all stubborn, Miss Independence.

  He waved her into the passenger seat and came around to climb back into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up.”