The Undisputed Series

by Teague, A. S.

  But what if she expects her husband to take the finances over one day? What if she thinks it’s the man’s job to be the breadwinner?

  I have no problem taking care of my woman. If she wants to work and be independent, then I would wholeheartedly support her ambition.

  But, if she wants to settle down with a family and stay home with the kids, then there is no way in fuck I am denying her that wish.

  But, right now, and for the foreseeable future, ponying up for a two-story house with a white picket fence and a minivan in the garage is a pipe dream. Not that I think Rebecca would ever want a minivan.

  I am surviving on Pop-Tarts and ramen noodles most days, except for the times Breccan or Tripp have lunch catered at work or when I forego a bill to take Rebecca out.

  My stomach rolls at the thought of confessing the state of my finances to Rebecca. It wasn’t always like this. I used to be paid big money for fights. But, with Gram’s medical bills and everyday living expenses, my savings quickly dried up. My imagination runs wild when I try to envision her reaction when I tell her that I am planning to take a title loan out on my Chevelle in a couple days, and bile creeps up the back of my throat.

  I try to check my grimace before anyone sees it, but Aly’s staring at me from across the table. I give her a halfhearted smile, and I’m not surprised when she rolls her eyes and then looks back down at her phone.

  She and Tripp are sitting across from us, but unlike Rebecca and me, they’ve barely looked at each other throughout the afternoon. As a matter of fact, I’ve caught Aly rolling her eyes at something Tripp’s said several times. She hasn’t bothered to tear her gaze away from her phone for most of the day and point-blank ignored Breccan the one time he tried speaking to her.

  I finally understand why Rebecca calls her the Ice Queen and can’t fathom what Tripp sees in her. Regardless of her cold demeanor, Tripp and the rest of the family are enjoying themselves, and I find myself caught up in it.

  After we finish eating the best meal I’ve had all week, everyone helps clear the table and we sit down to play a round of poker.

  “You not drinking, Ryker?” Breccan asks, a beer bottle in one hand, his other holding Sidney’s hand.

  Sidney’s holding their daughter, Olivia, in her lap. The baby squirms, twisting around to grab a handful of her mother’s hair. Sidney laughs and gently murmurs in her ear before peppering her chubby cheek with kisses.

  I shake my head. “Driving.”

  He nods and turns his attention back to Tripp. I glance over and see Rebecca watching Olivia and Sidney with a soft smile.

  My heart squeezes.

  I hook an arm around her shoulders, and once she leans closer to me, I ask quietly, “You want kids one day?”

  Her eyes meet mine, and she lifts a shoulder almost imperceptibly. “I’ve never really thought about it. They’re expensive. And a total cramp to my lifestyle.” She glances back at the baby and says, “But, God. Look at how beautiful Olivia is. And how patient Sidney is with her.” She shakes her head. “And Breccan. If you’d ever told me he was gonna be a daddy to a baby girl, I would have accused you of doing drugs. But the way he looks at that child. It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.

  I press my lips to her forehead. “I’ve always wanted kids. Just never met anyone worth bringing them into this world with. Maybe, now, I have.”

  Her body tenses in my lap.

  Holy shit, did I just say that out loud? Yes. Yes. I did. But I also fucking meant it.

  Her eyes widen, and she places her palm against my cheek. I hold her gaze and refuse to look away and ruin this moment between us.

  A snotty voice breaks in, killing the moment.

  “Are you going to play or continue to sit there and make us all sick to our stomachs?” Aly asks.

  Rebecca blinks then clears her throat before whispering, “Wow, that got deep. I’m still not even sure I’m that into you.” She winks at me. Then whips her head to the side and pins Aly with a glare. “Don’t be jealous, Aly. It’s not our fault Tripp can barely stand to look at you.”

  Although I want to be shocked at her bluntness, Rebecca’s comments don’t surprise me. And, judging from the way everyone around us continues the game as though the words hadn’t been spoken, it seems that Reb’s comments aren’t anything new.

  “You okay to drive, doll?” I ask as I push to my feet. When she wrinkles her brow, I tell her, “Need a beer. You okay to drive?”

  All of this talk of babies and thoughts of providing for a wife, two things I’ve not often thought of before, has my brain swimming and I suddenly need a drink more than I ever have in my life.

  When she nods, I shift her off my lap and make a beeline for the cooler.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rebecca

  Stretching my arms above my head, I relish in the delicious ache of my muscles. It was a particularly energetic night last night after we’d gotten home from my parents’ house.

  Ryker drank more than I’ve ever seen him drink and laid the myth of whiskey dick to rest. There may be men in this world who can’t get it up after a night of drinking, but Ryker is not one of them. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had more stamina than I could keep up with, and after three rounds, I found myself tapping out, much to his dismay.

  Rolling to my side, I study his sleeping face. So often he seems stressed or worried about something, so it’s a pleasant change to see his face relaxed, even if it is in sleep. I’ve been hesitant to ask him what has been on his mind because he made it clear he isn’t going to participate in my interrogations. There were times he would volunteer information, and when he did, I made sure to pay rapt attention, but those were few and far between.

  I run my fingertips along the curve of his jaw, his rough stubble scratching the pads of my fingers. He stirs, so I jerk my hand away, not wanting to wake him. Soon, his breathing evens out again and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  It has been over a month since we started officially seeing each other, almost two since he walked into the gym. I was so resistant to the idea of dating him, mainly because of the things he had said, but also because a part of me didn’t think I’d like to be attached to a former fighter.

  I’ve never been into the alpha guys. I wasn’t about to have anyone bossing me around, telling me what to do. I already have a father, and a damn good one at that. I didn’t need a man who thought he could get away with wielding some sort of control over me.

  But Ryker isn’t like that. Yeah, he is all man, and he has a tendency to tell me what we are doing. But he is also respectful and thoughtful, and even when he tried to get all macho man on me, it was…endearing.

  I’m not sure if a month is long enough to fall in love. I’ve never actually been in love before, and I’m not sure if there is a certain period of time one has to date a man before falling in love.

  Even though my Google search was no help, I do know that, if I am not already head-over-heels in love, I am quickly on my way.

  And I am freaking out.

  What if he wants to move in together? I need my space. He’s been spending the night here a lot, and I love having him next to me when I fall asleep each night, knowing he’ll be there when I wake the next morning. But I also take comfort in the fact that he has his own place, and if there is a night I want to sleep in the middle of my bed, spread eagle, I can.

  What if he wants me to stop going out with my girlfriends? My club days are over, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still enjoy happy hour drinks and dinner with my girlfriends at least once a week. And, sometimes, happy hour turns into dancing on bars at two a.m. Ryker isn’t the type who wants to control me, and he doesn’t seem overly jealous, but what if he starts demanding I spend my evenings with him or doesn’t like my late nights out?

  What if he expects me to give my career up and pop out ten babies? Even though my job isn’t much more than a glorified secretary, I still enj
oy it and the independence it affords me. Plus, I’m not sure I want kids, even though I love them. But what if we get married and he announces one day that I am going to be a good little wife and give him five sons and two daughters, all while keeping the house spotless and putting a home-cooked meal on the table each night?

  Looking around my bedroom, I laugh out loud. Surely he wouldn’t expect me to keep a tidy house after he’s spent all of this time with me. My room has four different laundry baskets on the floor, all with clothes that are so wrinkled that I can’t tell if they’re clean or dirty, and an assortment of dirty cups and plates on my nightstand.

  What if he wants to get a fucking cat?

  My chest tightens at the thought and I suck in air, suddenly in a panic.

  I reach over and shake his shoulder.

  “Ryker, wake up,” I hiss.

  A soft moan escapes his lips, and with a loud sigh, he rolls to his back before lightly snoring.

  Telling myself to calm down, I shake even harder and raise my voice. “Ryker! Wake. Up.”

  His eyes stay shut, but he murmurs, “What?”

  I give him one final shake and shout, “Ryker!”

  He sits straight up, his eyes flying open. “What? What’s wrong?”

  My voice shrill, I announce, “I hate cats!”

  He blinks several times and shakes his head. “You what?”

  “I hate cats. I don’t want any.”

  “Oh. Okay,” he mumbles.

  Wringing my hands together, I attempt to explain. “We’re getting serious, right?”

  He rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes and then looks at me. “We aren’t ‘getting’ serious. We are serious. You seeing anyone else besides me?”

  I shake my head.

  “Right. And I’m not seeing anyone besides you. And don’t want to be. You want to be seeing anyone else?”

  I shake my head again. “Okay, fine. We are serious. That’s not my point––”

  “Well, it is my point. You’re my woman.”

  I laugh at his claiming me as his woman, even though the way he said it warmed me. The panic I was feeling just a few moments ago has already begun to subside, but I’m still worried he’s going to bring a kitten home one day and I’m going to have to kick him out.

  “Yes, I’m your woman. You’re my man. Now––”

  Cutting me off, he starts singing a song I’ve never heard at the top of his lungs.

  “What in the hell is that?” I ask.

  His jaw drops, and he looks wounded. “Dear God, say it ain’t so.” Dramatically, he falls back on the bed, clutching at his heart. “I don’t know if we can be together anymore.”

  Grinning, I shove his shoulder.

  “It’s only an amazing song from the best band of the eighties, Bad Boys Blue. Please tell me you’ve heard of them,” he begs, his eyes wide.

  I shake my head. “Sorry. Can’t say that I have.”

  He sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Well, they are a bit obscure these days. And before your time. I’ll give you a pass on that one, I guess.” His eyes pop open, and he grins. “So what were you saying about cats?”

  All traces of humor vanish when I remember the reason I woke him up in the first place. After getting on my knees, I lean over him and confess, “I’m freaking out. About us. About this being so serious so fast.”

  He tucks a strand of my hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail behind an ear, his eyes still sparkling with humor. “Stop freaking out. Yes, we’re serious, but it isn’t too fast. We’ve been dating over a month.”

  I nod. He’s right. A month is plenty of time to get to know each other and get serious. It helps too that working together means we see each other just about every day.

  He smooths the worry line between my eyebrows and then asks, “Okay. Now that that’s settled, what do cats have to do with us?”

  I bring my face closer to his. “I don’t like cats. Please don’t ever bring one home. I can deal with you asking me to stay home from the clubs. If you want the house clean after we have a dozen kids, then I’ll hire a maid.” I pause and tilt my head to the side. “And a nanny. But, for the love of God, don’t ask me to clean a litter box.”

  “What if it’s an outside cat?”

  “It’s still a deal breaker.”

  Ryker lifts his head to mine and presses a kiss to my lips. “I’m not sure if maybe you’re still drunk from last night. Or if you had a nightmare that got your mind racing. But, if it will make you feel better, I’ll promise to never bring home a cat.”

  My shoulders sag in relief.

  “A raccoon maybe. Those little fuckers are cute. But never a cat.”

  My mind momentarily eased, I flop beside him onto the bed and propose, “Let’s play twenty questions!”

  He groans.

  I whine, “Come on. Pleeeeeease.” I poke my bottom lip out and bat my eyelashes at him.

  He rolls his eyes to the sky and grumbles, “Lord, why doesn’t she ever play fair?”

  I squeal in excitement. “Okay, me first!”

  He doesn’t say anything, but he nods.

  I take it as permission and fire the first question. “Number one: What’s the one food you could eat every day for the rest of your life?”

  He raises his eyebrows. “That’s an easy one. Let’s see… Same food for the rest of my life?”

  I nod.

  “Pickled eggs.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Pickled eggs? Gross! Okay, question two: Favorite city you’ve ever visited?”

  He scratches his chin, pretending to think. After what seems like a lifetime, I nudge him with my elbow.

  “Oh, sorry. Got caught up in the memories.”

  Intrigued, I lean closer to him. “Tell me.” I prop my chin on my hand and stare at him intently, waiting for his answer.

  He turns on his side to face me and says, “Indonesia.”

  When he doesn’t elaborate, I raise my eyebrows. He still doesn’t speak. Instead, his lips twitch.

  When it finally dawns on me, I shout, “You’re making shit up, aren’t you?”

  He roars in laughter and sputters, “You really thought I wanted to eat pickled eggs for the rest of my life?”

  After giving him a damn near nuclear glower, I sit up quickly and lean over the bed, reaching for my shorts, which were discarded sometime in the night. After yanking them up my legs, I stand and take a step away from the bed. Then Ryker’s arms wrap around my waist and pull me back to the bed.

  He’s still laughing when he begs, “Aw, doll. Don’t go. I’m sorry. Get back in bed.” He pulls at the elastic of my shorts. “Without these. I promise, the next question you ask, I’ll be one hundred percent honest.”

  Giving in, I sit back on the bed, but I refuse to take my shorts off. I face him and prop one leg on the bed. He grabs my foot, running a thumb along the arch, eliciting a groan. He continues to rub my foot, and I stare at his hands, watching the tendons flex as he squeezes. He may not be a professional, but I’d take his foot rub over a masseuse’s any day.

  Unable to tear my gaze from the sensual way his hands are moving over my toes, I murmur, “Question three: Why did Gram raise you?”

  His fingers stop moving, and I look into his eyes. He doesn’t answer.

  So I remind him, “You promised to be honest.”

  He breaks eye contact and looks down at my foot. I almost give up on getting a real answer about anything out of him, but then his hands begin massaging again and he clears his throat.

  “My dad was an old hippie. Probably nearly forty when I was born. Mom hooked up with him when she was eighteen. Had me when she was nineteen.” He lets the foot he was squeezing go and pats my other leg.

  I lift my foot, and he grasps it and immediately begins rubbing again.

  “She followed him around the country with me in tow. It was easy when I was a baby, I guess. Probably a little bit harder when I started running all over the place.”

&n
bsp; His eyes are intense, and I can see the pain in them. I contemplate telling him to stop talking, that I’m sorry I asked, but then he continues speaking.

  “One weekend when I was five, she told me we were going to visit my gram. I was so excited. I’d been sleeping in the back seat of a van with no heat––it was December. She spent the entire trip talking about how great her mom was, how big the house was, how wonderful the food would be.” He peers into my eyes, and I smile warmly, encouraging him to finish his story. “I’d never met Gram before, but with the stories she’d told, I felt like I’d known her my whole life. Anyway, we got there in the middle of the night on a Friday. She used a key she had to let us in and took me upstairs, settling me into the twin bed that she’d slept on as a child.” His eyes look far away, like he’s lost in the memory. “I remember thinking it was the softest bed I’d ever slept on. I drifted off with a smile on my face, and my last conscious thought was how great it would be if I could sleep in the bed every night.”

  He pauses to clear his throat again, and I pull my foot from his palm, replacing it with my hand. I give his fingers a squeeze, and his eyes focus on mine.

  “When I woke up the next morning, I could smell bacon frying, so I flew down the stairs. Got to the kitchen and skidded to a stop when I saw this little old lady at the stove, tears running down her cheeks. When she heard me, she quickly wiped her face and then wrapped me in her arms.”

  My heart breaks when I realize how the story’s about to end, and I curse myself for having asked him something so personal and then holding him to his promise, all over a stupid game.

  “Ryker, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean––”

  He shakes his head, and I clamp my mouth shut, letting him finish.

  “Mom was gone. Left Gram a note on the kitchen counter telling her that she couldn’t take care of me anymore, that I deserved better.” He laughs bitterly. “She was fucking right. She couldn’t take care of me. I did deserve better. I deserved better than a fucking note on a counter.” His eyes are shining, not with tears, but with anger.