by Vicki Essex
“You can keep the fee for the classes. Something tells me you’ll need the money for hospital bills.” She spun on her heel and marched out. Josie followed, casting one hesitant glance back at the roomful of men.
“Women.” Brett snorted, turning away.
A slow smile spread over Kyle’s lips. “So there are hot girls in this town. You already call dibs on the blonde?”
“Kyle,” Dom growled as he hastily pulled on his T-shirt and shoes, “shut up.”
He went after Fiona.
CHAPTER TWELVE
FIONA WAS SHAKING. Badly.
Whether it was from anger or something else, she couldn’t say. All she knew was that seeing Dom busted up—all that blood, the cloying reek of male musk, the glint of steel in his eyes—had triggered something in her. Run, run away. Her legs threatened to turn to water as she power walked up the street to her car. Maybe momentum would carry her home if her knees gave out.
“Slow down, Fi,” Josie called after her. “What’s wrong?”
“I just have to get out of here. I have to get home.” Back to Sean. Back to where she was safe, where she could make sure her son was safe. “I have to—”
“Fiona, wait!” She flinched. Dom’s tone instantly reminded her of the way Mitch used to bark at her.
Josie looked from her to Dom. “You want me to tell him to back off?” The squeeze of her friend’s hand on her arm grounded Fiona in the present.
Dom’s not Mitch. Mitch is far, far away, and he can’t hurt you now.
She let out a breath. “It’s okay, Josie. Look, he and I need to talk…. I don’t know how long it’s going to be.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be fine.” She said it with more confidence than she felt, considering what she’d just witnessed. “Go on home. I’ll call you later.”
Reluctantly, Josie left, murmuring something to Dom as she passed. A warning or a threat, most likely, given her friend’s protective streak. Fiona saw Dom grimace and nod in return.
Yup, definitely a threat. Probably of the kick-you-in-the-nuts variety.
He approached Fiona cautiously. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She allowed her breathing to level off, even though her heart was pumping like a locomotive.
He ran a hand over his scalp, the fuzz of hair rasping against his callused palm. “Look, I don’t know what I did in there to set you off that I don’t do on a regular day at the office, anyway—but I’m sorry. Brett can get rough sometimes, especially when he wants to get his message across. He’s not a subtle guy. I just don’t want you to punish Sean for something I did.”
Fiona’s gut heaved as she realized that was exactly what she had intended to do. She had wanted to punish Dom by denying him access to her son. She knew they got along, that Sean idolized the man. Dom provided her son with the kind of companionship and guidance she never could as his mother, and damned if she wasn’t jealous of it.
She walked to a bench and sat down on the edge, swiping at some imaginary lint on her pants. Dom joined her.
“I owe you an apology, too. I overreacted.” Admitting it made her feel a little better. But still… “I wasn’t angry. I was…” She trailed off, biting her lip.
“You were what?”
“Scared.” She stared down at hands as she replayed the scene in her mind—Dom pinned to the mats, helpless while another man ground him into submission. “I was afraid for you, Dom. What that guy was doing to you… And you guys are friends!”
She chanced a glance at his face. The swelling from his injuries seemed insignificant compared to the jut of his granite jaw. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said gently, his tone at odds with his hard, chiseled appearance. “But this is what I do for a living. And it usually looks a lot worse than what Brett laid on me, too.”
“Not much of a living, is it?”
He pursed his lips. “It’s who I am. I know that’s hard for you to understand.”
But in a way, she did understand, or at least she was beginning to. When Brett had derided Dom’s skills, a feeling like mercury rising in her veins had made her lash out in his defense. She’d never threatened anyone with bodily harm. And yet even now adrenaline coursed through her from that standoff. That puissant feeling was heady stuff, and she could see how it might become terrifyingly addictive, especially to someone capable of carrying out such a threat.
Part of that allure stemmed from her own attraction to dangerous men, she admitted. The wild child in her had mellowed significantly since having Sean—and being married to a truly awful man. But the savagery of Dom’s career called to her. She liked seeing him unleashed. Part of her wanted to be unleashed, too.
The thought troubled her. She didn’t like to think she might actually enjoy anger and aggression.
“I want to understand,” she finally said. “I know it means a lot to you. But it’s hard…. I mean, I try to think of Sean doing the things you do—” She clamped her mouth shut. And just when had she started thinking about her son following in Dom’s footsteps?
“Not everyone can do the things I do. I’m not saying that to show off,” he explained quickly, “but you have to understand. Fighting—being able to throw myself fully into a match, heart, body and soul—it’s a gift and a skill I’ve worked all my life to develop. Some people were born to paint pictures, some were born to fix cars…”
“And some were meant to pound the living crap out of other people?” Fiona worked to rein in her antagonism. “Okay, look. I get some of it. It’s a professional sport, there are titles, there’s money and prestige. I just don’t see how you can face another man for the sole purpose of knocking him out. It just doesn’t seem right.”
“There aren’t a lot of things in this world that are right. For me, at least, the cage is where things are simplest.”
She supposed that was where their ideologies diverged. Her world wasn’t black or white, win or lose, the way Dom’s was. She lived a life of murky grays. All her battles had been tough ones with no winners. Packing up and leaving home, moving her son away from her parents to start a life on their own—those hadn’t been easy decisions, and she still wasn’t sure she’d been right to leave. They were her parents, after all.
“We never talked after…last week,” Dom said, breaking into her thoughts. Speaking of gray messes.
She kept her gaze anchored to her hands. “There’s not much to say.”
Coward.
“I guess not,” he finally said.
Unwillingly, her eyes traveled along his bulging forearm, up to his shoulder, the strong column of his throat, to his cleft chin, and locked on to his lips.
The longer they sat there, close enough that she could feel his warmth, the more her own lips tingled.
“Look…you have your fight, I have my son.” She swallowed as his gaze drifted down. His eyes seemed to have darkened to cobalt. “Your ‘regular day at the office’ as you call it is just too much for me to deal with. I’ve got issues, Dom. Serious baggage. And Sean is my number-one priority. It would never work out between us.”
Dome stared hard at her. “Are you saying you don’t think I’d be a good role model?”
“No.” Yes…maybe. The question wasn’t whether he’d be good for Sean, but how his presence would affect her relationship with her son. Sean needed to know his mother was just as strong and tough as any man, and that she’d never let their lives be dictated by another walking ego with muscles. She would never let herself be intimidated by a man again. She amended quietly, “It’s complicated.”
“Maybe.” Dom’s face relaxed into a smile, not boyish or affected, but sure, confident. “Maybe not.”
Before she could even wonder what he meant, he asked, “Will I see you in class on Monday?”
“Monday?” The question jarred her.
“Self-defense. You missed this week’s lesson.”
“I don’t know…” But at the quirked eyebrow, more paternal teacher than seductive, her re
solution to fight him melted. “Yes. I suppose so.”
“Good. And tomorrow? You’ll bring Sean?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, satisfied, and rose from the bench. He held out a hand to help her up, too. “I’m glad. Sean shows a lot of promise. And I have a surprise for you both.”
“Surprise?” Fiona felt stupid parroting Dom, but with his strong fingers wrapped around hers, sending sparks of awareness along her nerves, it was hard to come up with anything intelligent to say.
“Come at the usual time for Sean tomorrow, but schedule an extra half hour. I have something to show you.”
AND DID DOM EVER SURPRISE them.
“You want us to perform in the arts fair demonstration?” Fiona paled.
Next to his mom, Sean’s face lit up like the sun. “Really? You really think I can do it?”
Dom had had an epiphany that night Brett had beaten the tar out of him. But getting knocked around the head hadn’t been what had straightened him out. In a moment reflected in the shining gold hair curtaining Fiona’s fretful face and big, sad eyes, Dom had wanted to make her smile.
“I know you can do it. Both of you,” he assured Fiona. “I’m going to teach you a quick variation of one of the moves you learned in class. It’s one of the sets Sean already knows. You’ll have a whole week to practice. You’ll get it, no problem.”
“But…but—” Fiona floundered.
“It’ll take you five minutes to learn. Thirty seconds to perform. That’s all.”
“But why us?”
“I want to showcase how anyone and everyone can practice martial arts, so I’m having a mother-child set.” And then he pulled out his ace in the hole. “I’ve asked Denise and Rene to perform with you, so you won’t be alone.”
Fiona’s terror became outrage. “You’ll put us up there with them?”
“C’mon, Mom, it’ll be okay. I can practice with you at home. We’ll look great on stage!”
“Sean.” Fiona knelt, her voice pitched low but still audible to Dom. “You don’t have to do everything Sensei Dom asks you to do.”
Sean looked affronted. “I know that. But I want to do this. It’ll be good for the dojo. Sensei Miwa could get more students and more money to fix this place up.” He squared his bony shoulders. “It’s my responsibility to help the dojo. I owe Sensei Dom and Sensei Miwa for everything they’ve done for me. And for you.”
Dom wanted to hug the boy. He hadn’t fed him any lines, knew Mako wouldn’t have if he were here, either. Sean had gleaned this all himself, was learning the reciprocal nature of the dojo environment. He was growing into his own.
Fiona appeared to be just as moved. She pinned Dom with a this-is-all-your-fault look, then relented, smiling. “Okay, Sean. Dom, you win. Teach us, oh master.”
THE SET WAS NOT AS EASY to learn as Dom had promised, but that was only because Fiona got so flustered when he corrected her form, the barest touch of his hand upon her hip igniting a rush of unwanted desire. She shouldn’t be having these feelings with her son standing by.
“Back straighter. Chest out, chin up.” Dom’s fingertips grazed her cheek, and she felt her face heat. She stared straight ahead. “Feet apart just a little more…”
“C’mon, Mom, we gotta show Rene and Mrs. Kirkpatrick up!”
That gave Fiona enough incentive to concentrate. But even as she moved through the stances, she began to think about how her son’s attitude toward his former foe had changed since the incident at the picnic. There was no way the two were friends—they were diametric opposites, and Sean was still the scrawny kid of a convict.
But things had changed. She thought about it again as she made dinner later that week. Sean seemed happier, more confident. He’d even gone out to play with a couple of kids from school who were in one of the youth beginners’ classes. He hadn’t been beaten up in weeks, or, if he had been, he either hadn’t told her, or had managed to take care of it himself.
She was proud of Sean, of course, and glad he was finding his place in Salmon River. But she felt as though she was losing her connection to her son in dribs and drabs. He needed her less and less these days. He’d be turning eleven in a few months. Soon to be a teenager. And then off to college.
Once Sean was leading his own life, where would that leave her?
In her spinster aunt Penelope’s home, that’s where. Fiona couldn’t imagine herself picking up and moving in another ten years; starting over again would be too exhausting. But a life alone in Salmon River seemed bleak at best. She tried to imagine a partner, someone to share her years with…and the only face that came to her was Dom’s.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE WEEKEND OF the Arts Fair arrived, and Salmon River buzzed with activity. Artisans and craftspeople from neighboring towns and cities all over the state had arrived several days in advance, bringing trailers full of goods to sell. Blacksmiths, painters, knitters, jewelry makers, fashion designers and more filled the two local hotels and every bed-and-breakfast within five miles of town.
Tents were erected along Main Street, which would remain closed to vehicle traffic for the weekend. Fielder’s Park would host the food section of the festival, with bakers, brewers, butchers and farmers hawking their wares. The main stage was erected in the park, as well.
“I love the arts fair,” Josie declared cheerfully as she set up a table outside Josie Baby’s. “So many cute, artsy, sensitive men come to town. Ooh, look, that guy has to be a blacksmith.” She watched a hulking man with thick forearms stride by with a large box.
Fiona found herself comparing those muscles to Dom’s leaner form. She much preferred the latter. “Has anyone ever told you you’re obsessive?” she asked, wondering at her own obsession of late.
“I’ve been called boy-crazy. And desperate. And I had an aunt call me wanton once. But obsessive? Nah. I’ll add it to the list, though.” Josie waved to a tall blond man walking past. He grinned and waved back, but continued up the street to Five Elements. It took Fiona a moment to recognize Dom’s friend Kyle.
The three men had been in and out of the dojo all week. Sean said that in addition to training with Dom, they helped supervise the classes, and were fixing up the dojo, replacing the broken mirror and water-stained ceiling tiles. Once, she’d seen Dom and his compatriots jogging together around the neighborhood. They made a fearsome foursome.
An hour later, Fiona was manning the sale table outside Leeds Reads on the jammed street. It was the perfect day for a fair. Fluffy white clouds scudded across the blue sky, and a mild breeze provided gentle relief from the scorching summer heat.
Sean was at the dojo, preparing for the Five Elements performance at four o’clock. He’d been spending most of his summer vacation there, not in classes but as a “volunteer.” She felt bad for taking advantage of Dom like this; she wasn’t paying him to babysit, after all. But he hadn’t complained, and regularly praised Sean for his dedication to the dojo.
“How much is this?”
A gruff voice pulled her from her thoughts. A broad man in his mid-forties, wearing a polo top with a little animal on the breast, chinos and expensive loafers, waved a kids’ book. His coarse brown hair had red tints in it, and his green eyes seemed oddly familiar. She told him the price.
“I could get this for half the price in Richmond,” he muttered as he pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket. Fiona’s smile never faltered as she made change for his twenty. As he left, he barreled through the crowd with the finesse of a bulldozer.
“What was that guy’s problem?”
Fiona whipped around, and every nerve ending tingled at seeing Dom. She wondered if he ever wore a T-shirt that didn’t display the breadth of his muscled chest.
“Who can say? Maybe he’s allergic to blue skies and happiness.” She fought back inexplicable laughter. The sun must be making her giddy. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to swing by and make sure you’ll be at the dojo in time to change, stretch and get o
ne practice run in before the show.”
“Already have it scheduled. Sean wrote it on the bathroom mirror this morning with my lipstick.”
“He did?”
“I couldn’t make that up.”
Dom laughed. “He cracks me up. Man, I love that kid.”
Fiona was taken unawares and couldn’t prevent the mushy feeling inside from spreading. Dom loved her son. Maybe it was just a toss-off phrase; but she felt it like the flutter of a bird in her hands.
Mitch had never shown much affection for Sean. He’d seen Sean as a bastion of failure—too small, too skinny, too needy—but all Dom saw were possibilities, talent, a good kid.
She bit her tongue to help focus. “Are Denise and Rene ready, too?” she asked, her voice scratchy with emotion. She cleared her throat.
“Actually, I came to see if you knew where Denise was. I know she’s coordinating a lot of the activities, but I haven’t caught up with her or Rene yet.”
“Ask Selma. She’ll probably know. I’ll keep a lookout in the meantime.” Fiona didn’t want to be alone onstage, even if Sean was going to be there. Another adult would make her feel less conspicuous.
“Mr. Payette!” Marion came out with an armful of books about mixed martial arts. “Do you have a moment?”
“Please, call me Dom.” He turned his lady-killer smile on Marion, and Fiona saw her boss pinken a little.
“I was wondering if maybe, after your demonstration, you could spare an hour or so signing some books?” She held one out. Fiona knew his name was in it, had seen the picture of him, shirtless, weighing in before a match. The image had burned itself into her mind.
“Sure thing. Would five-thirty be okay?”
“Perfect.” Marion gave him a few details, then began spreading the books on the sale table. A cardboard sign she carried under her arm went up above them: UFF Champion Dominic Payette, Pride of Salmon River, Signing Autographs Today!
Dom had been in town for all of three months. How he had become the “pride of Salmon River” when he was neither a UFF champion or even a permanent resident escaped Fiona’s understanding. She knew it was just Marion doing her marketing thing, but the reminder of her and Sean’s own alienation still stung.