“How’s Sara?”

Thirteen

Ian

Of course I knew it was a bad idea for MacKenzie to come over and help out with physical therapy at my place. I’m an MMA fighter, not a fucking moron. Still, I felt like one for suggesting it.

I didn’t know if she felt the same way or not, but she agreed to come over. Which was good because I wasn’t ready to go back to the gym. I didn’t need the guys watching me while I struggled to lift my hand any higher than my waist.

But I had no clue how to act with her now. She’d let me hold her in Ty’s car on the way to the ER, and it seemed so right, but then as soon as we got to the hospital, she pulled away and acted like it never happened. So the only way I could figure to deal, was the same way she was dealing with it. Or not dealing with it.

Shit, women should come with manuals. She was lucky she was so amazing.

MacKenzie came over wearing her usual gym clothes, including my favorite pair of short-shorts—so short I could see a crescent of the naked curve of her fabulous ass whenever she bent over. On top she wore a low-cut tank that hugged the curves of her slender waist and clung tight to her exceptional breasts. Her nipples were erect, which made it impossible to not imagine her naked. It was going to be a hard fucking workout. At least I managed to get her to put on a sweatshirt.

Even as she jabbed at me verbally, I couldn’t help noticing her gentle nature as she helped me out of my brace. And when she stepped closer and put my hand on her shoulder, her tiny little frame in my huge hand made me want to say, fuck it. Just take control of the situation and pull her the rest of the way to me. God, I wanted to kiss her—and do a lot more to her—so fucking bad.

“How’s Sara?” she asked.

The words startled me. Where the fuck did they come from? I thought I detected a hint of a smirk. Fuck. I turned away from her to give myself a second. Why wouldn’t the Sara thing just die already? I considered keeping up the charade and telling her we were still dating, but I just wanted to be done with the whole mess.

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” I said and added, “That was our first and last date,” hoping that would put an end to the whole topic.

But the hint of a smirk resurfaced on MacKenzie’s face. Double fucking shit. Here we go…jokes about one-night stands, maybe?

“So I guess porn stars are good enough to have as friends, and good for one-night stands, but not dating material?”

Triple fucking shit. How did she know about Sara’s adult film work? Of course she did. She was MacKenzie. I bet she watched Cade’s films.

Her face was so smug, I wanted to kiss that smirk right off her face. Because even when she was being a little brat, it still all came back to that. I imagined nibbling on her pouty lower lip as I considered how much more I wanted her to know. If in fact there was anything left she didn’t know. God, I hoped she didn’t know I paid Sara. But Cade would never betray me like that.

“We didn’t sleep together,” I said.

Her smile faded and her eyes widened. “So, it’s true then?”

My breathing stopped. She did know I paid for Sara to accompany me. I would be kicking Cade’s ass the next time I saw him.

“What’s true?” I asked cautiously. I might have paid for a night with a porn star, but I wasn’t going to admit to it that easily.

“That you don’t have sex before a big fight.” Her look was so innocent and hopeful, yet it still took me a second to figure out why she was asking this.

“Yes,” I finally answered. Her cute little frame seemed to relax a little, making me feel—once again—like a total dick. She didn’t know I paid Sara; she was talking about something completely different, about the night we almost hooked up. The night I told her I couldn’t because I had a fight the next day.

She chewed at the inside of her cheek a moment, maybe considering what I’d just said. Shit, that meant she thought I’d just made that up to get rid of her. Not fucking likely. Putting the brakes on that night had been the hardest thing I’d ever done.

“So,” she said as she looked up at me innocently through her eyelashes. “What does that do? For a fighter, I mean.”

I chuckled. “You mean besides frustrate the hell out of us?”

She smiled—thank fucking goodness—then nodded for me to continue.

“You know that stereotype that most guys are boneheaded cave dwellers driven by instinct?”

“Is it considered a stereotype if it’s true?” she said, then giggled.

God, she had a great laugh.

I nodded. “That’s what I was getting at. On some very basic level, we fight in order to survive and procreate.”

She scrunched up her nose, making her look super cute. “But wouldn’t you fight better then? If you have sex, then you have someone to fight for, right?”

Her hand went up to mine, which was still resting on her shoulder. She absentmindedly played with my fingers until she noticed I was watching her, and realized what she’d been doing. She let her hand drop.

I shook my head. “We fight to procreate. Once we’ve had sex, we’ve done the job and have no reason to fight.”

“Hmm.” She nodded. “So I guess now that you aren’t fighting for a while, you’re free to take care of business.” Her gaze drifted down my body.

My dick screamed at me to pull her close. She was stating the obvious, but it felt like she was suggesting more. I saw the hunger in her eyes.