The Fighter's Stubborn Lover (The Burton Brothers Series Book 2)
Page 9
Mason plopped himself down in the chair and patted his lap. “Okay, time to ride.” He pulled her into his lap with his good arm. She giggled and he started wheeling himself out, shouting out, coming through. They raced down the hall, barely missing an orderly with a cart. At the doors, Mason climbed out of the chair with Avery in his arms.
“Mason—put me down. You’re still recovering.”
He shook his head. “The word is recovered. Doctors gave me two thumbs up.” They’d also advised him to give up the ring. He could train, but they’d warned him that another concussion and he might never wake up. He was still trying to process that. He hadn’t told Avery, but he had told Beck—who’d flat out said it was about time Mason wised up and shifted over to training. “It’s about time you wised up. You could be making a fortune as a trainer, and dad’s getting old enough he needs someone to help out with the dojo. That’s not going to be Bryant, now that he’s hooked up with Anders, and you know I don’t have the patience for young idiots, so why are you ignoring what it’s plain to us is your real talent?”
That had stung. Mason had always thought of himself as a fighter, but now he was going to have to change his mind about that.
Setting Avery on her feet, he put his hands on her face. She smiled up at him. “Avery, Bryant said he’s putting a ring on Alice’s finger next month in ‘Vegas. What do you say we make that a double wedding?”
Her eyes widened. “Double? Isn’t that…shouldn’t we…oh, hell. Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you Mason. Today, tomorrow, next week, next month.”
He leaned down and kissed her, long and deep. She softened in his arms and gave one of those small moans he loved to hear from her. Breaking off the kiss, he said, “Do you mind if I give up fighting.”
Pulling back, she shook her head. “No. I’m not giving you ultimatums, Mason. I’m…I’m working on being positive. And if you want to fight, I want you to do what you love.”
“What if what I love is you. And…and the doctors told me I’d be smart to quit.” He told her then what the doctors had said. She listened, her lower lip caught between her teeth. That kept distracting him. He still wanted to nibble on those lips.
When he finished talking, she stepped closer and put her hands on his chest. “Mason, if you love to fight, then do that. Yes, you could get another head injury—and if that happens, I’m going to want to kick your ass. But…hell, Mason, you could get hit by a bus. Or I could. I’m done—or I’m trying to be done—with worries that hold me back.”
He grinned. “So we’re taking up sky diving lessons?”
She smiled and wound her hands around his neck. “Well, if we’re doing that, we wouldn’t have time for other things. Like hot tubs and a whole lot of time in bed.”
He tightened his hold on her waist. “Total change of plans. I’m becoming a trainer—and we’re getting married so we can work hard on producing a niece or nephew for Bryant’s kid to play with.”
Giggling, she stood on tip-toe to kiss him. “Mason, I love you. It’s crazy us getting married so fast, but I’m starting to like crazy.”
“Oh, angel, you hook up with my family you get full of crazy. Now, come on, you said there’s a celebration party for Dustin. I want cake, and the good news about being a trainer is that I can eat pretty much what I want.”
Pulling Avery with him, he headed out of the hospital. It was going to take time to get used to the idea of being a trainer—and a married man. But with Avery beside him, there wasn’t much he didn’t feel up to tackling. And after the party, the real celebration could begin. The one where he snuck into Avery’s bedroom and took his time taking off those awful sweats. He’d strip her bare and then he’d finally be able to show her just how much she really was his angel.
END OF BOOK 2
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Read an Exclusive Introduction from Beck’s Story (The Fighter’s Secret Child)
Rebecca St. Martin stepped out of the taxi and looked up at the business sign, proclaiming it the home of the Burton Brothers Martial Arts School. It had been two and a half years since she’d last seen that sign and her stomach jumped at the thought of what kind of welcome might face her now.
Reaching back inside the taxi, she unbuckled the seatbelt on the car seat of the little man who’d fallen asleep on the ride from the airport. He was the spitting image of his father, a fact she hoped would work in her favor in a just a few minutes.
The taxi driver helped her with her luggage, leaving it on the sidewalk. It wasn’t much. A backpack and a wheeled suitcase. She gave him the generous tip she’d promised. He’d not only loaded her luggage, he’d made a special trip back inside the airport to retrieve the car seat she’d brought along as part of her checked luggage.
“Thank you,” she said. She ignored the wink he gave her.
Rebecca was used to that—and to the looks men threw her way. She’d spent five years as a ring girl for the local MMA commission, strutting around between rounds in a barely-there bikini top, and boy shorts that hugged her ass like a second skin.
Her job had been to look beautiful, announce which round was next, and in general make sure she left every hot-blooded male salivating for their next glimpse of her perfect body. The pay had been great. And she’d banked every cent and stayed away from the parties—until she’d met Beck Burton and fallen head over heels.
She’d been so lost in love, she would have agreed to anything he wanted from her. When he’d suggested they go someplace tropical for a week, she’d eagerly packed her bags. They’d spent two weeks in Fiji—a golden two weeks. And then they’d come back to reality.
Beck headed off to training camp—and three weeks later Rebecca had missed her period. She’d vacillated between happiness and fear. Beck and she had never really discussed having kids—they were barely dating. They’d also never had unprotected sex. She wasn’t sure an MMA fighter was cut out to be a father—and she wasn’t sure he even wanted to hear he had fathered a kid. When he returned from training camp, she’d told him her news. He’d blown up at her, throwing accusations at her, demanding to know who she’d been sleeping with. She’d thrown him out—damn if she was going to have a kid with a guy who had temper issues.
She’d quit her job, moved, and set out to make herself her own future. One without Beck. It had only been a fling, after all. Nothing really serious.
But now she had to come crawling back, and that sat inside her like a lead weight. She pulled in a
breath. She could have gone at this the legal way—with lawyers and demands for DNA testing. But she had long ago cooled down from her fight with Beck. Now, she just wanted to convince him that his child desperately needed something only his father could provide.
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