Ice Cold (An MMA Stepbrother Romance) (11 page)

I sat on the couch with my hand in a bowl of ice. Hammer’s skull had been like a rock, and I had beat my hand at it at least half a dozen times. It hurt like hell. Maury had already been in and given me a mollified congratulations and gruff apology for doubting me. That made me feel better until he warned me that my match in three weeks was going to be even tougher. Leave it to Maury to always be a ray of sunshine in my world.

I could barely concentrate on that, though. I kept thinking about the fact that I had called out to Lex in the crowd like there was something more definitive between us than being business colleagues. The way I called her out, it gave the impression that she was my girlfriend.

Lex wasn’t my girlfriend by a long shot. Ice Malone didn’t do girlfriends. I didn’t do anything that even somewhat resembled that kind of relationship. Those didn’t end well for anyone, most of all someone like me.

It wasn’t as if my father didn’t remind me constantly that I was worthless, or if I had been a better son maybe my mother wouldn’t have felt the need to turn to booze and pills. Of course, that last part he’d only said once. It was just a few weeks after she died, and I’d come home to find him slobbering drunk. I’d never seen him like that before, and when I walked through the door, it was as if he unleashed eighteen years on rage on my head.

He told me that my mother had to give up her modeling career for me. She had lost all of her desire to do anything once I came into the world, and it turned her cold and aloof toward my father. He had tried to make her happy, but there was something that just was never right in her head after that, and the substance abuse grew until he didn’t know where that ended and my mother began. He blamed everything that was wrong with her on me.

Logically, I knew that he lashed out at me because he didn’t understand why she had felt the need to find solace elsewhere. It was like she’d given up on both of us, and then she was gone. We never spoke of that night again, but I’d never forget it as long as I lived. Dr. Carlson said that I had intimacy issues that stemmed back to the fractured, undeveloped relationship with my mother. I actually hadn’t needed to spend thousands of dollars in therapy for him to tell me that.

I spent my whole life trying to measure up to my father’s expectations and always falling just a hair short. So after my mother’s death, I decided that I was done trying to make everyone else fucking happy. I started training for the MMA on a dare, and after a few fights, discovered that I was actually pretty good at it. Which just served to piss my father off more.

It didn’t take a therapist to tell me that I was fucked up either. My world was a blur of training, fighting, booze, and broads in an endless succession of cities across the country. I wasn’t even close to anything that could be considered relationship material. My two role models in life were more fucked up than I was. And yet, my father was jumping into the whole marriage thing again.

If he could find somebody to love him, why couldn’t I? What the fuck. Why was I thinking about love? I was definitely going to need to schedule another session with Dr. Carlson when I got back to Chicago. I had a screw loose or something. I didn’t go around banging the same chick more than once. I didn’t go to bed at night thinking about how badly I wanted to have blond, flowing locks on the pillow next to mine. I didn’t call out and give credit for my win to a girl.

And yet these were all things I’d done since I met Lex Carroll. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I had a thing for Lex. More than a thing. The idea of her even looking in another guy’s direction made me want to smash the guy’s face in. That thought sobered me up. Lex was special. She was focused and driven, and there was no doubt she’d be successful in whatever she put her mind to. I was a fuck-up who would probably end up on the injured list and fade from everyone’s memory before I turned thirty. Shit, I’d be lucky to hit thirty and still be fighting.

Not to mention, I’d have nothing to show for it. That’s what my dad had hammered into me. I was worthless. I wasn’t good for anybody. Somebody like Lex desired far better than a lowlife like me. I heard the knock on my door, and, for a moment, I wondered if she had come to see me. I stood up with a smile that faded as soon as I saw Marcus walk through the door with a short, curvy brunette.

“Hey boss,” he said. “I found this pretty lady wandering around the stands and thought you might like to say hello. Her name is Trish.”

I couldn’t fault Marcus. I had given him instructions that if I didn’t specially request a particular girl from the crowd, to find the most attractive and available one and bring her to me. It was my thing. I liked to get laid after a fight, and that fact had gotten around. A thought crossed my mind that made me wince. Had Lex seen Marcus collect Trish the way that he had her that night three weeks ago? I had a sinking suspicion that she had.

“Hi, Ice. I am your biggest fan,” Trish purred as she stepped closer to me. Marcus started to exit the room, but I called out to him to wait.

“Marcus, I’m calling it an early night. Can you please make sure that Trish here gets a t-shirt or something and show her out?”

Trish started to pout. “Can I at least get a picture?”

I didn’t want to take a picture with her, but if it meant that I got her out of my locker room, then I’d happily oblige. “Sure.”

She squealed and curled her body around me. She slipped her hand up into my hair, and I was shocked when she pulled her lips down onto hers. I heard the snap of the camera flash before I could even blink. “You sure you can’t find a little time for poor little me?” she asked as she batted her eyes up at me.

I untangled my limbs from hers. “No, but thanks, Trish.” I motioned for Marcus to get her out of there. His eyebrow rose, but that was the only indication he gave that he was surprised at my reaction.

Hell, I was surprised too. Trish was exactly the kind of girl that I’d take for a ride after a fight. Loose, willing, and sexy in a slightly trashy kind of way. But I didn’t want that tonight. Not by a long shot. Half an hour later, after a long, cold shower where I tried everything I could not to think about Lex’s long legs spread wide in front of me in my bed, I emerged from the locker room to find Kyle waiting for me.

“Marcus told me you kicked your usual after fight snack to the curb,” he said as he pushed off the wall.

“Let’s get a beer,” I said. “Celebrate my awesome victory.”

“You sure you don’t want to celebrate with someone else tonight?” He gave me a sly grin. “Maybe somebody named Alexa?”

“She’s my bookkeeper.” I didn’t want to talk about Alexa with Kyle. It was on the tip of my tongue to add that she was going to be my stepsister in a little more than three months, but I kept that one to myself. I told Lex that I didn’t care if anyone knew that small little detail, but there was something that was holding me back from feeling totally okay with it.

“Okay, your bookkeeper,” Kyle said with an eye roll. “You’re going soft on me, old man. You haven’t wanted to go out to the clubs lately, and now you’re turning down easy pussy. What is going on with you?”

“Maybe I’m maturing,” I said sarcastically.

Kyle started laughing. In fact, he laughed so hard that he had to stop walking and put his hands on his knees. I glared at him in annoyance. “I’m tired. I’ve been training hard for the last three weeks. I just want a beer and a bed. Okay? Stop busting my balls over something stupid.”

Putting up his hands, Kyle finally quieted. “Whatever you say, man. So if you aren’t going to screw the girls that throw themselves at you tonight, does that mean more for me?”

“Have at ‘em,” I said. I was only interested in one girl. And that thought was going to keep me up tonight for sure.

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Stacey said. “Besides, even if it was, you don’t care, right? I mean, yeah, you screwed him twice, but it was just a one-night stand kind of thing. Well, a two-night stand kind of thing. It’s not like you guys are going out or have anything exclusive.”

“Of course, we aren’t going out,” I scoffed. “He’s going to be my stepbrother.”

“You are both adults and are not blood-related,” Stacey reminded me. “I don’t think people would care less about that.”

“People would care about that,” I said. I was pacing my hotel room as if there was something chasing me. Ever since seeing Marcus take the trashy brunette back toward Shayne’s locker room, I had felt like a wild person. “I don’t care. The reason I’m annoyed is that we just had sex last night. I mean, how much action does a guy need?”

Stacey gave a long, drawn out sigh. “A guy like Ice? I imagine he’s going to have it on a regular basis. I mean, he’s all hyped up and physical with his job. He’d need some way to unwind after getting all cranked up.”

I threw myself down on my bed with a huff. “It wouldn’t hurt him to keep his crank in his pants every now and then.”

“You like him,” Stacey said. I could hear the sly smile in her tone.

“He’s the modern day equivalent of a Neanderthal man. He literally beats people up and gets paid for it. There’s nothing remotely attractive about that.”

“Oh, you
really
like him,” Stacey squealed. “I haven’t seen a guy get under your skin like this in the last four years I’ve known you. This is perfect.”

“Nobody’s gotten under my skin. I just think it’s rude to sleep with a girl one night and then have sex with another girl the next night.” I was being stubborn about it. To say it out loud meant that it was real. These feelings that swirled inside of me were confusing, unsettling, and wholly unfamiliar. On that count, Stacey was right. I’d never felt like this about any guy before.

“You love him,” Stacey said in a sing-song voice. “Alexa and Ice sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“Could you be any more juvenile about this? You know, this is all your fault to begin with.”

“Why? Because you decided to try out what it’s like being in my shoes for one night?”

“That was the first time I made a poor decision when it came to Shayne. Yes. Now look where’s got me,” I said. “Frustrated and annoyed.”

“More like hot and bothered, that’s for damn sure. I can’t remember the last time we talked about a guy that you were interested in for this long.”

I sighed. “I don’t like him,” I said stubbornly. “I certainly don’t love him. But I might be attracted to him.” As if on cue, I felt a slight ache between my legs. My extracurricular romp with Shayne the night before had left me sore in a deliciously good way. I squeezed my thighs together to feel it more acutely.

“You are smitten, but okay. We’ll start with you’re in lust for him. Sounds like the start of a lovely relationship.”

“He’s not a relationship guy. Fuck, the amount of words that’s been written about the guy’s sexual exploits in the media is ridiculous.” I knew that for a fact because I had read them all. When I did the math, there was a story about Shayne and some girl, or a picture of Shayne and some girl, in the press approximately every seventy-two hours.

“He’s a minor celebrity. What do you expect? People are curious about him.”

I groaned as I remembered my face up on the jumbotron. “And thanks to his little call-out, people might be curious about me now too. How juicy is that? The MMA fighter and his stepsister. Thank God he uses a stage name, so hopefully nobody will tie those two things together.” I sat straight up in bed. “You don’t think the press is going to cover that, right?” I felt sick. What if anything was printed about that little stunt and Cal read about it? Or my mother?

“It’s not like he said he was putting his dick in you immediately following the fight,” Stacey said.

“You aren’t being helpful!” I got out of bed and went over to where I left my laptop sitting on the table. I popped it open and started googling. I breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t see anything.”

“Yet,” Stacey offered.

“Stacey!”

“Calm down,” she said. “He said it at the end of his scripted comments?”

“Yes.”

“If anyone bothered to tape the whole thing, it’s one sentence at the end. And he didn’t say anything outrageous. Don’t worry about it. I’d concentrate more on riding that man for all he’s worth while the getting’s good.”

I had my Twitter feed up, and I saw a new alert pop up in my feed that I used to track Shayne’s social media mentions. He had his own hashtag. I told myself I wasn’t acting like a stalker by doing it. Just taking a healthy interest in my client’s reputation.

Guess what I’m doing backstage? #hardasice

The tweet had a picture attached to it. It was the brunette. She was wrapped around Shayne’s body in a possessive way, and they were in a passionate liplock. I closed the lid of my computer. I had known what Marcus taking the woman backstage meant, but seeing the reality of it made my blood boil.

“Alexa, are you still there?”

“I’m not interested in a fling, and I’m not interested in Shayne. He’s an asshole.”

“That’s not what it sounds like your body is saying.”

“I’ll call you when I get back to Chicago,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about my body or Shayne’s body or our bodies together anymore. He was never going to lie a finger on me again.

“Take a warm bath. Get some sleep. Call me in the morning. You’re worrying over nothing,” Stacey said.

When I hung up, I opened my laptop again and stared at the picture for a long time. For a few minutes, I had entertained the idea that there was something to worry about. But it was clear that Shayne had already moved on. Whatever blip we might have been on the radar, it was over.