Fighting for Us: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 2)

by Claire Kingsley

  “Probably because of me,” she said, her voice nonchalant.

  “You? Why?”

  “You know how some people totally spoil and enable their children? That’s me. I’m people. I can’t stand the thought of you being unhappy, so I do whatever I have to do to make sure you’re not.”

  I swallowed back the tightness in my throat and my eyes misted with the threat of tears. “Why are you so good to me?”

  “Let’s be honest, good to you is debatable. A little tough love might have been better. But I just can’t. I want you to be happy. I care about maybe two people in the entire world, which I realize is kind of fucked up. But no one else has ever given me a reason.”

  “Aw, honey.”

  She smiled. “Normal people spread out their love and attention, but I don’t have anyone else, so you get it all. Which I realize probably sucks for you because I have no idea how to actually love someone.”

  “Now that’s definitely not true.”

  “It really is. But I’d like to think I’m learning. Next I have to learn how to share you.”

  I turned sideways in my chair so I was facing her and leaned forward. “If Asher and I figure things out, that’s going to be hard for you, isn’t it?”

  Glancing away, she fiddled with a lock of red hair. “Yes, but I’m also okay with it, because if it’s what you want, then it’s what I want.”

  “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I’m probably a terrible friend in a thousand different ways, but I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  “That’s love, Cara. That’s how you really love someone. You want what’s best for them, even if it means you have to lose something.”

  She shrugged, and I could see her trying to remain nonchalant. Cara didn’t dig into her feelings very often.

  “You’re my person,” I said. “You’re never going to lose me. Even if I marry Asher.”

  “Shut your beautiful face.”

  I laughed, but my smile faded. “Do I have a problem? You’d tell me if I have a problem, right?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. If you weren’t even aware of it, I bet it’s just a habit. We got so used to doing literally everything together back in college, and now you don’t think about it. Besides, it’s a totally codependent relationship. I get a lot out of you needing me.”

  “Yeah, maybe it’s just habit.” I chewed on my bottom lip, not sure whether I believed that. “Tell you what, give me thirty more minutes here and we’ll go get lunch. Anywhere you want.”

  “You know what I really want?”

  “What?”

  She looked off into the distance, her expression dreamy. “There’s this place in San Diego that has the most unbelievable coconut shrimp you’ll ever eat in your life. If I can get a flight, do you want to go?”

  “Today?”

  “Yeah. It would have to be more like dinner, but I still think we could make it happen.”

  “I’m not going to San Diego today.”

  “Why not? It’s not a long flight.”

  Shaking my head, I laughed. “I was thinking something a little closer. Like here.”

  She slumped back in the chair and groaned. “Fine. We can go to the Caboose, but I’m definitely day-drinking.”

  “Me too, for sure.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go to San Diego?”

  “Cara, the last time you took me on one of your crazy spontaneous trips, we were supposed to be gone for eight hours. Two days later, I’d almost lost my job.”

  A wide smile spread across her face. “Yeah, but we had fun.”

  “We did have fun,” I reluctantly admitted.

  “That’s okay, I’m over the San Diego idea. Hank makes really good gin and tonics and that sounds better than food anyway. Even coconut shrimp.”

  My phone dinged with a text and as soon as I saw his name on the screen, I was smiling.

  Asher: Would you believe me if I told you three squirrels stole my lunch?

  Me: Actually, yes I would.

  Asher: It was in my truck, but I left the window down. I saw the little fuckers running away and my lunch is gone.

  Me: That was your mistake. Can’t let your guard down around those little guys. They’re shifty.

  I glanced at Cara. She was pretending not to watch me, but I knew she was curious. For a second, I thought about asking her if she’d mind me inviting Asher to have lunch with us.

  But as much as I’d have loved an excuse to see him, I quickly decided not to. Cara would say yes, but I didn’t want to alter our plans. My friendship with her was important to me, and I couldn’t get in the habit of making her feel like a third wheel.

  Asher: No kidding. I’ll grab something in town, I just thought you’d enjoy laughing at my misfortune.

  Me: It definitely made me smile.

  Asher: Then it was worth it. I love your smile.

  Yep, my hopes were officially rising. Fast.

  “What’s that all about?” Cara asked.

  “Just Asher. Squirrels stole his lunch out of his truck. He thought it would make me laugh.”

  One corner of her mouth hooked in a subtle grin. “Texting you just because?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.”

  I nibbled my bottom lip again. “He also said he loves my smile.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Boo, slow down. You’re taking this relationship way too fast.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I’m serious. He’s already texting you nice things? What’s next, tea on the porch with a chaperone? Be careful not to show any ankle. You might damage his esteem for you.”

  I laughed. “Stop.”

  “I’m not the one being all slutty and showing too much ankle. Hussy.”

  “Oh, I’m the hussy? That’s hilarious coming from you.”

  “I know, I’m such a hypocrite. But seriously, I’d really like to start shopping for bridesmaid dresses, so if you two could hurry it up, that’d be great.”

  “I’ll be sure and do that just for your convenience.”

  She flashed a big smile. “You’re such a good friend.”

  Libby Stewart poked her head in the door. “Um, Grace? Ms. Montgomery sent me to tell you your time’s up.”

  Lorraine Montgomery was the head librarian.

  “Really? Sorry, I didn’t know there was a time limit.”

  “I didn’t either, but that’s what she said.”

  Cara and I shared a look. That was… weird. It wasn’t like browsing through old newspaper articles on microfiche was a popular library activity.

  “Okay.” I turned off the machine. “We were pretty much done anyway.”

  “Did you find anything? Ms. Montgomery was asking about it.”

  “Not really. Do you want me to put these somewhere?” I gestured to the stack of film.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks, Libby.”

  Cara and I grabbed our purses and left Libby in the storeroom.

  “Was it just me, or was that strange?” Cara asked.

  “Kind of. Although maybe that old microfiche machine can only take so much use. It was getting pretty warm.”

  We passed the front counter where several people were checking out books. Lorraine Montgomery eyed us. She looked like the consummate librarian, with her floral dress, tan cardigan, and wire rimmed glasses. She even wore her graying hair in a loose bun.

  She’d always been stern, but I had no idea why she was watching us like she thought we were sneaking books out of her library.

  “Well, whatever,” Cara said. “I’m ready for gin.”

  “Aren’t you always?”

  “Basically.”

  Cara held the door for me and I cast a glance over my shoulder—at Lorraine Montgomery, still watching me.

  25

  Asher

  The familiar smell of rubber mixed with a hint of sweat greeted me as I walked into the
gym. An industrial-size fan hummed in a corner and the clink of weights echoed from the high ceilings. Two guys grappled on one of the open floor mats and another pair sparred in the cage, their grunts adding to the sounds of movement and activity.

  Jack Cordero stood near the front, talking to a guy wearing a Tilikum Fire Department t-shirt. He was dressed in street clothes and carried a duffel bag—looked like he’d already worked out. A lot of the guys from the sheriff’s office worked out here, and so did most of the firefighters. They’d always had a good-natured rivalry. Back when I’d been a volunteer firefighter, I’d often sparred with the deputies. The TFD guys had put me up against them because I was good. I usually won. TFD pride and all that.

  The firefighter—I’d seen him before, but I didn’t know his name—laughed at something Jack said. Jack glanced over and caught my eye. Gave me a chin tip greeting. I returned it.

  I liked Jack. Prison had admittedly made me predisposed to distrust authority, especially cops. But Jack seemed like good people.

  I stopped at the front desk and signed in. I was about to veer toward the side of the gym with the weights, but someone on one of the open mats caught my eye. I stopped and did a double take. It was Grace.

  She was dressed in a tank top and a pair of black shorts that showed off her athletic legs. Her hair was pulled back and her feet were bare.

  One of the trainers—I thought his name might be Diego—squared off with her. He wore a t-shirt and shorts and his long hair was secured in a man-bun. They circled each other slowly and I noticed Grace never let her feet cross, always keeping a good stance. Her center of gravity was low, her knees slightly bent.

  She was totally focused on her opponent, her eyes watching his. He feinted to one side, and she flinched, but didn’t take the bait. A beat later, he shot on her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She sprawled instantly, leaning her body weight into him, her legs stretched behind her.

  Damn. That was a good move.

  He couldn’t take her down with such a hard sprawl, so he pulled back. They locked up, heads together, both fighting for position. I had an urge to shout out instructions—change levels, Grace—but I kept quiet.

  Moving fast, she went for his inside leg with hers. Half a second later they were both on the ground. At first it looked like she’d made a mistake and he was going to turn things around on her. But she rolled to her back, pulling him on top of her, and got him in her guard. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her feet locked.

  In wrestling, being on your back was always bad. In Brazilian jiujitsu, however, it was a position of strength. Grace had him right where she wanted him.

  Diego coached her as they grappled, giving her quick—and increasingly breathless—instructions. He tried to sit up, moving his upper body away from hers, but she followed, keeping her legs locked tight. Twisting at the waist, she threaded her hand around his opposite arm and wrenched him forward, pulling his face into the mat. Without letting go of his arm, she shifted her weight beneath him, twisting his bent arm backward at a painful angle.

  Push up on his wrist, Grace. Push up.

  She squeezed her legs tighter against his attempts to break her hold, and pushed up on his wrist. He smacked the mat with his other hand, and she let go.

  Nice move.

  Diego stood and helped her to her feet, then shook out his arm. They exchanged a few quiet words. She nodded; he was probably critiquing her form, letting her know what she’d done well and where she could improve. He patted her shoulder and walked off the mat.

  It was about then that I realized I was standing in the middle of the gym, staring at her.

  She caught sight of me and the smile that lit up her face almost broke me wide open. She was sweaty and flushed, her hair falling out of her half-ponytail. Her tank top and tiny shorts showed a hell of a lot of skin, all glistening from her workout.

  God, she was beautiful. Sweaty, messy, and absolutely perfect.

  “Hey you.” She walked toward me, rooting my feet to the spot. I couldn’t have moved if I’d tried. “I didn’t know you were training again.”

  “I’m not, actually. I’m just here to lift.”

  “Really? You don’t want to get back on the mat?”

  I shook my head. “No. You looked great, though. That was a nice submission.”

  “Thanks.” She paused for a second. “Do you want to at least warm up a little?”

  “With you?”

  Her eyes held mine and her lips turned up in a slow smile. It wasn’t a friendly smile. It was full of heat, dripping with suggestion. “Yeah. Come on. I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

  I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, vaguely in the direction of the weights. “That’s okay. I’ll just go do my thing.”

  “That’s fine, I understand. It’s been a while. You’re probably worried you’re rusty.”

  With that look in her eyes, I wasn’t sure if we were talking about grappling anymore. “I’m not worried about being rusty. At anything.”

  “You sure about that, big guy?”

  She was goading me, and I knew it. I still took the bait. “Yeah, it’s not an issue. Some things you never forget.”

  “Like riding a bike?”

  I stepped up to the edge of the mat and looked down on her. “No, not like riding a bike.”

  “Show me.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed. It was all I could do to hold myself in check. I wanted to drag her somewhere private, rip those shorts in half, pull out my cock, and fuck her up against a wall.

  The worst part was, I knew that look in her eyes. She wanted it as much as I did.

  I couldn’t fuck her here—obviously. There were other people around. I wasn’t an animal. But more than that, I couldn’t fuck her anywhere. Not while I was still such a wreck.

  But goddamn, she was hard to resist.

  “I’m not grappling with you, Grace.”

  “Why not? Are you afraid I’ll win?”

  I looked her up and down. “I probably have eighty pounds on you. Maybe more.”

  “So?”

  “I’d crush you.”

  “You think so? Since you’re so confident, how about we make it interesting?”

  “How?”

  “I bet I can make you tap out. If I win, I get what I want. If you win, you get what you want.”

  “What do you want?”

  “A date.”

  Fuck. I was unraveling so fast, my brain could hardly keep up. A date. Take Grace out on a date. I was supposed to be keeping my distance. Giving us both a chance to move on.

  But god, roll around on the mat with her? Touch all that skin? Get her sweat on my clothes? I wanted to do the right thing, but every man’s willpower has limits. I was definitely reaching mine. And it wasn’t like she could win. She’d looked good against Diego, but I was a trained fighter, and bigger than her. The risk was minimal.

  That’s what I was telling myself, at least.

  “Fine. You make me tap out, you get a date.”

  That sly grin of hers slid across her face again and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Good. Let’s do this.”

  “Hang on. What if I win?”

  She walked to the center of the mat and looked back at me. “If you want to pick something, suit yourself. But you’re not going to win, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “Is that so, tiger?”

  “Yep.”

  “No, we need to set the full terms beforehand. I don’t want you backing out when you lose.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I won’t back out. But if it’ll make you feel better, what do you want if you win?”

  Oh shit, now I had to think of something. It was occurring to me that she was already several steps ahead. She’d goaded me into this from the start, and I was still trying to catch up. “Chocolate cake.”

  “That’s it?”

  It wasn’t very good, but I couldn’t say if I won, I got to take her back to her place and f
uck her until neither of us could see straight. And that thought was taking up too much space in my brain. It was hard to think of anything else.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had cake?”

  She shrugged. “Okay, Bailey. If you can make me tap out, I’ll bake you a cake. Now get over here and show me what you’ve got.”

  I took off my shoes and socks and stepped onto the mat. The pliable smoothness was familiar beneath my feet. Damn, it had been a long time.

  Grace fixed her hair, pulling it back and retying it. She shook out her arms and bounced up onto her toes a few times. Then she widened her stance, gave me a smirk, and gestured for me to come at her.

  The sounds around me fell away. No more voices, clanking weights, humming fan. My focus narrowed to the space of the dark blue mat. To my opponent.

  To Grace.

  Lowering my center of gravity, I reached for her, testing her defenses. She batted my arm away. I tried again, shuffling closer. She deflected, avoiding my grip. But this time, she surged in, going for a trip on my inside leg.

  I’d seen her use that move on Diego, so I was ready for it. I moved my leg before she could get hers wrapped around it and took advantage of the shift in her balance. Grabbing her thigh, I pulled up on her leg and drove my body weight forward.

  We hit the mat with Grace on her back and I moved to side control, circling so I was perpendicular to her, my chest on top of hers. I should have been able to end it here, but she was fast. And determined. She resisted my efforts to get my arm beneath her neck, and used her lower body strength to shift her hips.

  “You sure you’re not rusty?” she asked, her voice strained with effort.

  I grunted and swung my body around, going for control on the other side. Careful not to put too much weight on her ribcage—I didn’t want to hurt her—I tried to hook one of her legs.

  She shoved her knee into my gut, using me as leverage to get her hips free. I grunted again, scrambling to regain control. Damn, she was fast. And slippery. Not because she was sweaty—she moved like a cat. Every time I thought I had a solid hold, she contorted out of it somehow.

  Suddenly, she went on the offensive. Pushing against me again, she moved her hips backward. I tried to counter, but she used my momentum against me. Her body twisted and she hooked an arm around one of my legs. Next thing I knew, my face was smashed into the mat and I was rolling onto my back.