Mr. July: An MMA Sports Romance (Calendar Boys Book 7)

by Nicole S. Goodin

She nods in agreement. “You’re just lucky Justin was content to walk me to my car and didn’t insist on following me back here.”

  I don’t feel very lucky right now. I just gave my heart and my body to a man who doesn’t even want it.

  “Everything is a mess.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head, then change my mind and nod.

  I don’t know what I want, but I do know one thing, I can’t figure this out on my own, so I spill and tell my best friend everything from the boxing glove charm to the phone call I heard half of this morning.

  “What the fuck?” she demands.

  I shrug.

  “What a dick move.”

  “Right?”

  “Kinda seems out of character though…”

  “I heard the words come from his mouth, Jules.” I groan.

  “But he text you and said he missed you…”

  “So maybe he enjoys messing with my head?”

  “Maybe you were never meant to hear that phone call?”

  “Clearly I wasn’t.” I sigh. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I did.”

  “True.” She frowns.

  “I don’t know, Ramsey, something doesn’t add up. That guy is obsessed with you, I don’t believe that he doesn’t want something more… why don’t you just talk to him about it… tell him what you heard?”

  “I don’t know if I can,” I whisper. “I’ve fallen for him, Jules, and if he doesn’t want the same things I do, it’s going to crush me.”

  She reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently.

  “What’s the alternative? Never talk to him again?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know… I just need some time to think about it.”

  She nods in understanding. “Fair enough.”

  I grab a pillow and throw it over my face.

  “Is it awkward if I ask how the sex was? Because shit, that man looks like he’s made for it.”

  I tug the pillow from my face and smack her with it, a grin trying to find its way onto my face despite my heartbreak.

  He was made for it alright; as confused and hurt as I am – there’s absolutely no doubt about that.

  “I’m not talking about him like that.”

  “You’re right. It’s too soon.” She giggles. “I’ll give you a few days to recover.”

  She gets up off my bed and heads for the door. “So just to clarify, you’re going to be ignoring him until further notice?”

  “Yes please,” I say, my voice muffled from the pillow that has taken up residence across my face again.

  “So what do I do when he turns up here?”

  “He won’t.”

  “Oh, sweetie, trust me… he will.”

  “Then tell him I’m sick or something… I don’t care, just don’t let him in.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  I sigh. “I have no fucking idea.”

  “Want me to go out and get some ice cream?”

  “I love you.”

  She huffs out a laugh. “I know you do.”

  I poke my head out from its hiding spot and call after her, “I’ll love you even more if you get me cookies and cream flavour.”

  I hear her laugh and then the front door opening and closing.

  I reach for my phone so I can read his message a second time but pull my hand back when I remember that I turned it off, and that I’m taking a minute to think this through.

  I’m destined to fail. I’m addicted to him, as much as I don’t want to be.

  I groan and fall back to the soft pillows.

  Running the risk of sounding like Taylor Swift, I knew he was trouble when he walked in – I just wish I could have had the good sense to listen to myself.

  ***

  “I feel sick, you shouldn’t have let me eat all of that.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” Juliet questions, a spoon hanging from her hand. “You probably would have bit me if I tried to take that away from you.”

  We’ve done nothing but watch trashy chick flicks all afternoon, and dutifully ignore my still-turned-off cell that’s sitting in the centre of the coffee table in front of me.

  It’s killing me – not knowing if he’s tried to call or text.

  “You going to switch that thing on or not? You can’t hide forever.”

  “I’m not sure a few hours counts as forever.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Suit yourself, but if you don’t let him know you’re alive, I’m pretty sure he’s going to show up here looking for you.”

  I don’t know that he will, not unless he’s worried I might spill my guts to Justin, but maybe she’s right and I should just flick him a text…

  She gets to her feet. “I have to pee.”

  She slides the phone purposefully in my direction and leaves the room.

  I stare at it for what feels like forever before grabbing it and powering it up.

  It’s been about seven hours since he left, so if there’s no missed calls or texts from him – that’ll be answer enough.

  My screen comes to life and I chew on my fingernails.

  It dings, one, two, three, four times.

  My heart starts to thump in my chest.

  There are three missed calls – two from Hudson, and one from Justin, and one message.

  My pulse rockets into overdrive at the possibility that Justin already knows.

  I click on the little message button and release a deep breath when I read it. The text is from Justin – he sent it after I didn’t answer his call.

  To: Ramsey

  From: Justin

  Am I allowed to beat up your patient yet or what?

  He doesn’t know.

  I go back to the call log to see when Hudson called.

  There’s one from around three this afternoon and another from only about twenty minutes ago.

  I know he had a busy afternoon at the gym today – so if I had to guess, he’s called me between sessions and then now, when he’s done for the day.

  What he wanted to say though, that is still a mystery.

  I decide to send a text to him.

  To: Hudson

  From: Ramsey

  Sorry I missed your call, I’m not feeling well – going to hit the hay. Night.

  It’s not a total lie – I can feel my stomach curdling, from all the ice cream or the situation I’ve found myself in, I’m not sure.

  I go back to Justin’s message and think about what I want to reply.

  I know what I need to do.

  Hudson and I have been dragging his treatment out for far longer than it needed anyway. He’s ready to get back into training, and if he’s back training then he’ll have no reason to turn up here twice a week – and maybe that would be the easiest for both of us.

  To: Justin

  From: Ramsey

  He’s good to go – treatment is finished, I’m officially discharging him into your care. Try not to break him on the first day.

  I let my head fall back against the couch and blow out a deep breath through my nose.

  “Did you text him?” Juliet asks from behind me.

  I slowly open my eyes and make the decision to turn off my phone again.

  I nod as the screen turns black.

  “I told him I wasn’t feeling well and was going to bed.”

  “Ramsey…” she groans.

  “Just leave it, Jules, I’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to actually go to bed – it’s been a long few hours.”

  She smiles sadly at me as I get to my feet and retreat down the hallway.

  I consider changing my sheets, but as soon as my head hits the pillow and I smell his masculine scent, I don’t have the will power to get back up.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Hudson

  I glance at the time on the big wall clock.

  I know it’s early for a Monday, but Ramsey usually starts with clients at eight, so I expected to hav
e heard from her by now.

  She was acting so strange last night – her message came through while I was showering, and by the time I read it and tried to call, her phone was turned off again.

  Same thing this morning.

  If I wasn’t meeting Justin here, I would have swung by her place to see if she was okay.

  She said she wasn’t feeling well – I hope it’s nothing serious.

  “Morning, pretty boy, you ready to get your ass kicked?” Justin taunts me as he strolls across the gym.

  I chuckle. “Hate to rain on your parade, but I haven’t got the all clear.”

  His face stretches into a wide grin. “Ramsey didn’t tell you?”

  Didn’t tell me what…

  “You’ve been discharged, man, you’re good to get back to training.”

  “She must have forgot to tell me.” I frown.

  I don’t like this.

  Ramsey and I have spoken nearly every day since my last fight, we’ve talked about everything and anything, and now, right after we sleep together, I’m getting messages via her brother.

  Something isn’t right.

  “Glove up, I’m going to put you through the wringer.” He claps me on the shoulder as he strolls past, his gear bag slung over his shoulder.

  I watch him disappear from sight into the changing rooms and I snag my phone from my own bag.

  I hit dial on her name and it goes straight to voicemail again.

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

  I toss it back in the bag and run my hand through my hair in frustration.

  “You’re looking soft, Horror, I’m going to make you my bitch,” Justin’s voice calls from the changing room.

  I’ll have to figure out what to do about Ramsey later.

  I grab my hand wraps and start to wind them around my knuckles. Right now, I have to deal with her pain-in-the-ass brother.

  ***

  “Not bad. I’m surprised you’re not more wrecked.” Justin pants, his hands resting on his knees as he doubles over.

  I slump onto the bench and suck in a deep breath.

  I don’t know what the hell he’s looking at, I am wrecked.

  My lungs are burning and my muscles are screaming in protest.

  Twelve rounds straight with a guy like him is no walk in the park.

  I can feel a few new bruises coming up – nothing too serious given the shin guards and sixteen-ounce gloves we sparred in, but still enough to leave a mark.

  Everything leaves a mark in this sport.

  I spit my mouth guard into my glove and deposit it into my bag, then begin tugging the gloves off.

  It’s days like these, when you can feel it, even when you’re being hit with these big gloves for cushioning, that you realise how unconditioned your body is.

  A month off feels like a year all of a sudden.

  I need to get back into my training with Owen – work on my conditioning.

  “Your uppercut is still shit house,” Justin says through sucking in air.

  I squirt a stream of water into my mouth, most of it dripping down my front.

  “That’s not what you were saying when I caught you on the jaw.”

  “I wouldn’t say it was ‘shit house’ but it could use some work,” a voice from the left says.

  “Oh hey, Dad, I didn’t know you were in already.”

  “Caught the last two rounds,” Joseph Ashton tells his son as he reaches us.

  “Good to see you, Joe.” I hold out my now un-gloved hand to him and he shakes it firmly.

  It’s been a while since I’ve seen Joe – he’d been away with fighters prior to my last bout, and I’ve made my presence scarce around here since then.

  “You look better out of shape than half the guys around here look in shape, son,” he tells me with a nod.

  “Well I feel like shit.”

  He laughs lightly. “Nothing quite as shitty as feeling out of shape.”

  Not hearing from his daughter well and truly trumps it, but I don’t feel like dying today, so I’m not about to tell him that.

  “When’s your next fight?” he questions, and I glance up at Justin.

  He shrugs. “Nothing on the cards for the next six months.”

  “Something will pop up, it always does – some fool will decide he wants to take a belt from you, and it’ll be all on.”

  “Don’t go putting stupid ideas in his head,” Justin groans. “We don’t need another title fight for a while yet.”

  Joe glances across the gym at the sound of people entering.

  “The youth academy is here, I gotta go.”

  We say our goodbyes, and then it’s just the two of us at the side of the vacant ring again.

  I can hear Joe barking orders at the young guys, and I see the kid I sponsored in there with them.

  “How’s he doing?” I nod my head at the ginger-haired young guy.

  “Good, man, good, really good actually – future champ in the making I reckon.”

  The word ‘champ’ hits me right in the gut.

  Something isn’t right with Ramsey, I can feel it.

  “When did you talk to your sister?” I ask casually as I unwind my now sweat-covered hand wraps.

  “Last night.” He grunts, the Velcro on his shin guards sounding as he undoes the straps.

  “I think I left a jersey around there, I might shoot round and grab it.”

  He grunts again.

  I rip off my own shin guards and toss everything into the huge bag that seems to go everywhere with me.

  “Tell her I might need to see her after today.”

  I smirk at him as I lace up my shoes.

  “Pussy.”

  He flips me the middle finger.

  “Go for a run later – just light, about an hour or so should do it,” he instructs.

  “Will do.” I nod as I get to my feet and sling my bag over my shoulder.

  “You not hitting the showers?” he questions.

  I shake my head. “Nah, might head out for that run when I get home… just get it done,” I lie.

  I won’t run until later, the only reason I’m not showering now is because I want to get to Ramsey’s place sooner.

  “Whatever does it for you, man.”

  “I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

  He nods as he clutches his side.

  I chuckle, so much for him kicking my ass.

  I slide into my car and try Ramsey once more, but she still isn’t answering.

  I know the speed limit, but I ignore it as I drive over to her house.

  I feel panicked, on edge for some reason, and I don’t like it.

  I park outside her place and jog up the path.

  I stink and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a black eye forming, but there’s no blood, so I figure I’m safe.

  I rap my knuckles on the door and listen.

  I hear feet moving towards the door.

  I can see her car parked in the driveway, so I know she’s here.

  She swings open the door and just the sight of her takes my breath away and settles the feeling that has been swirling in my gut for the past eighteen or so hours.

  “Ramsey.”

  “Hudson… you’re not my nine o’clock,” she replies.

  She doesn’t look sick. Not even a little bit.

  I shake my head at her. “Nope, apparently I’ve been given the all clear.”

  I don’t mean it to come out like an accusation, but it does.

  Blush stains her cheeks and she shifts nervously from one foot to the other. “Look, can we do this later? My client will be here any minute.”

  I cross my arms firmly across my chest and ignore her request. “You’re ignoring my calls. Why?”

  She shrugs one of her shoulders. “I’m not ignoring you, Hudson, I just don’t know what I’m meant to say.”

  She tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear and dips her head, trying to hide the tears I can see welling in her eyes.

&nb
sp; “Hey,” I say, my voice softening. “Did I do something wrong?”

  She looks back up at me, her lashes wet. “You tell me.”

  I frown. “Is this about Justin?”

  She shakes her head.

  I reach for her arm, but she shifts slightly so I can’t make contact.

  My hand falls and my stomach turns.

  “Pinky, I don’t know what happened between now and then, but Saturday night was…”

  “It was a mistake,” she cuts me off and it feels like a knife has just been driven into my heart.

  “A mistake,” I deadpan.

  I can’t believe she just said that. That night wasn’t a mistake in the slightest. It was everything I wanted and more.

  “I really have to go,” she whispers.

  “So that’s it then?” I shrug. “You’re ghosting me?”

  She shakes her head, sadness filling her eyes. “No. I’m letting you off the hook.”

  I don’t want to be off the fucking hook.

  “This could never work between us.” She shrugs. “You and Justin – you’re like brothers… I can’t come between you two like that, and you wouldn’t want that either. He’s important to you. You can’t just throw that away for me.”

  It’s bullshit. The whole lot of this is bullshit.

  This isn’t her decision to make for me.

  “If you don’t want this, you can just say so, Ramsey, don’t dress it up and try and make it seem like you’re doing something noble.”

  My words hit her, and she looks as though she might physically buckle under them.

  “I think you should go,” she whispers.

  I nod my head once and do what she wants me to.

  I leave.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ramsey

  “I’m cutting you off,” Juliet says, her voice full of authority.

  I look up at her and drop my bottom lip.

  She’s got her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. She means business.

  “You’ve eaten your body weight in ice cream since that night and it stops now. You’ll end up lactose intolerant for fuck’s sake.”