Kicker (DS Fight Club Book 1) (14 page)

“Whoa. Holy fuckin’ shit.”

“Trevor, honey, you need to mind your manners,” Tig’s mother said in low voice. Tig cleared his throat, embarrassed that his mother witnessed his gawking at Charlotte’s shapely bottom.

Hattie grinned as she turned away. “I’ll have some lunch ready for you when you get back from your ride. Be safe.”

Charlotte stood up and turned around, and Tig was even more thankful that his mother had gone in the house.

“Charlotte, what the hell do you have on?”

She wore a too-small shirt of Hattie’s and compensated for its skimpiness by wearing it open but with one of Tig’s singlets underneath, the material of which stretched across her ample bust and showed off the fuchsia satin and black lace of her bra. The fact that she had her hair back in two tight braids did not help—not one little bit.

He was instantly, ferociously hard, and if he wanted a little taste of Charlotte Markham before, now he wanted to gorge on her.

“Your sweet mother let me borrow a top so I . . .”

Tig crossed the barn in three long strides to slam her back against the rough wooden wall.

“Tig, what do you think you’re doing?” she huffed.

“I’m gonna kiss you.” He leaned his elbows against the wall, boxing her in. “That is, if you’ll let me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Tig took off his hat and slanted his face to place a soft, hot kiss on Charlotte’s mouth. He leaned into her, adjusting his stance so he could press his hips into the soft swell of hers.

“Ohhh,” Charlotte breathed into his mouth. Without thinking or realizing, she looped her arms around Tig’s waist, hooking her thumbs into his back belt loops.

Tig moved closer, rubbing his body along hers, the big brass belt buckle he wore skimming a delightful chill across her belly where the singlet rode up. He kissed his way along her jawline toward her lovely neck.

“Damn, girl, it’s a good thing you’re not wearing a skirt.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’d be buried so far in you, I’d not come out for a week.” He rocked his hips into her, a small groan escaping his mouth. “Holy shit, you feel good like this, and I’m not even in you.”

“I thought we were going to go for a ride today,” Charlotte whispered.

“Oh, honey, I’ll definitely take you for a ride if you want it.” He bumped her a few times, making her gasp and groan.

Charlotte touched Tig’s jaw, feeling the rough stubble under her fingers. “Oh, Tig . . .” Charlotte shifted, bumping into his belt buckle. “Oof. That thing’s dangerous.”

“You want me to take it off?”

Charlotte laughed. “Oh boy. No, I think you need to have as many layers as possible over that area. It’s too tempting otherwise.”

The spell broken, Tig stepped back and cleared his throat. “I thought we might ride down to the arena and go see some of the other horses. You can ride Mama’s horse. She’s a sweetheart—nice and docile.”

Charlotte smiled. “I’d love that.”

*****

Tig was quiet on the ride to the arena, which suited Charlotte just fine. The storm had cleared the pollen out of the air, and she was enjoying just riding and being outside.

She rode back from Tig a bit and took the time to really look at him. She admired the way he rode, his big shoulders squared yet relaxed. He caught her looking at him and grinned.

“Hey, pretty lady. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Just looking.”

Tig huffed a laugh and then blew out a breath.

“So, this is my biological father that we’re going to see.”

“Oh, okay.”

They rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts until a round pen came into view, a lone horse and man inside. The man stood beside the horse and appeared to be having a deep conversation with the beautiful creature. Both the man and the horse looked up when they heard the two visitors approach.

Charlotte could instantly tell the two men were related. Tig’s father was shorter and heavier than he was, but the stance and build were identical.

Tig looked at Charlotte, whose rapt attention was on the horse his father was leading toward them.

“Neil.”

“Hey, Tig. I didn’t expect you up this way this weekend.”

“We were up at the grove and the fields yesterday but got caught in the storm last night. I thought since we were stuck here for the time being, we might see what you were up to. This is Charlotte Markham. Charlotte, this is my father, Neil Tuohy.”

Charlotte tore her attention from the dappled gray horse to find two sets of cornflower-blue eyes looking at her.

Charlotte bobbed her head. “Nice to meet you.” She looked from one man to the other. “Boy, you can sure tell you two are related.”

The horse snorted and nudged Neil’s back. Neil rolled his eyes. “And this is Whistlebritches.”

Charlotte grinned again. “She’s beautiful.”

“She’s a pain in the ass is what she is,” Neil said with a laugh.

“Anyone get on her besides you yet?” Tig asked.

“Nope. Been waiting for the right person.”

Charlotte looked from one man to the other, sensing that this conversation went beyond the words that were being said. And then the men’s heads swiveled in her direction. Charlotte blinked at them. Tig quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Hi. You two are making me nervous.”

“Hunter seat?” Neil asked.

“I wish. Saddle seat.”

“Hm,” was Neil’s only response, but Tig grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her.

Finally, Neil huffed a quiet breath. “Let’s see what you’ve got, girl. I only have a Western saddle because that’s what this horse is going to show. You feel comfortable with that?”

Charlotte gave an indifferent bob of her head, but inside she was ecstatic. She loved Western riding, but of course, her parents decided that was unacceptable and made her change to the dreaded Saddle Seat. On her more pessimistic days, Charlotte swore the only reason they forbade Western was because she enjoyed it and was good at it.

“You up for some Western?” Neil’s mouth had a serious set, but his eyes twinkled, and Charlotte figured she was in for a treat. This was a weekend of new experiences: spending the night in a dorm room, getting busted during shower sex, meeting parents. Why the hell should she not ride a horse, Western style?

“Sure. I’m game for anything.”

*****

Neil and Tig watched as Charlotte rode Whistlebritches around the ring.

“That is a thing of beauty,” Tig said, low.

“It is. Your girl has a natural Western seat, doesn’t she?”

Tig snorted.

“I’m not being crass about Charlotte, Tig. She does. She’s obviously ridden before.”

Tig nodded. He and Charlotte talked a lot about horses and riding, one of the few things that they truly had in common. He knew she rode when she was in school, and even after, but he had no idea that she was as talented as she was.

“You’re in love with her.”

Tig snapped his head toward his father. “What?”

Neil did not look at his son; he just kept his eyes on the woman and the horse in the pen. “You’re in love with her.”

Neil sighed.

“You’re in love with her,” he said a third time. “And she is going to break your heart, Tig. She might not mean to, but she will.”

Neil looked at his son, whose eyes were now fixed on the woman in the ring. He could see Tig’s jaw tic.

“You can get mad all you want, boy, but you know it’s the truth. There’s nothing but heartbreak that will come from loving a woman like Charlotte, Tig, at least for a man like you.”

Charlotte reined in the horse in front of Neil and Tig. “Oh, she’s wonderful, Neil,” she said.

Tig looked at Charlotte, her eyes bright and a big smile on her face.

“Tig? Something wrong?” Charlotte asked, her smile dimming.

“No, nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Just enjoying looking at you, seeing you so happy.”

Charlotte looked at him again, knowing he was lying to her, but she did not push him in front of his father.

“It’s getting late, Tig. We should start heading back, don’t you think?”

“Yep.”

The ride back to the Mashburn residence was similar to the trip up, but Tig continued to think about what his father had said. Charlotte practically vibrated with excitement left over from her ride, her eyes bright and a small smile playing on her lips.

Tig chuckled at her, and she twisted her head to the side to look at him.

“What are you laughing about now? Me?” Charlotte said with a grin of her own.

“You wear all your emotions on your face.”

“Yeah, I’m not meant to play poker, that’s for sure.”

“What were you thinking about just then, right before I started talking?”

“I was thinking that it’s pretty obvious Neil was a fighter, too.”

Tig barked a laugh. “How could you tell? Because his nose is practically concave?”

“Your ears. You two have the same ears.”

Tig unconsciously fingered the pebbled cartilage of his own ears. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

“You look a lot like your mother, but you carry yourself like him. And you have his eyes.”

“Yeah, that’s always kind of been an issue. People would always compare me to Floyd and Tyler, and yeah--totally obvious that I had a different dad.”

Charlotte waited for him to say more about his brother, but he did not, so she did not ask.

“Floyd will be home when we get home. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

After getting back to the barn and bedding down the horses, Tig pulled Charlotte into an empty stall.

“I want a few minutes alone with you, Charlotte.”

Charlotte went to him, settled in his arms, and rested her cheek on his chest as Tig petted her head and back. She sucked in a big breath and was halfway surprised when she felt tears on her cheeks.

Tig pulled her more tightly to him. “Oh God, I know, baby. I know.” And Charlotte huffed a small laugh.

“Shh, baby,” he murmured and pulled her even tighter. “I’ve got you, okay?”

Charlotte stretched up onto her toes and brushed his lips with a soft kiss. “I know,” she said against his mouth. “I know that, Tig.”

His tongue gently probed Charlotte’s mouth at first. Then Tig deepened the kiss, sucking on Charlotte’s tongue, running his over her teeth, and then pulling away and nibbling his way across her jaw and down her neck until he got to her shoulder.

“Do we have time for a quickie?” Charlotte panted. She clawed at Tig’s back and chest, over and under his T-shirt.

Tig whined a pained groan. “Probably not, and I don’t have any condoms, anyway, dammit.” He pulled her up on a hay bale, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Tig grunted as he rocked against her hips, breathing heavily in her ear. Charlotte’s hands snaked under that big belt buckle and into his pants, grasping him in her hands and making him whimper.

“Fuck, Charlotte,” he groaned.

“If we can’t, I can still get you off,” she panted, tugging and stroking his cock and balls. “Do you want me to do that?”

And her dirty talk and question almost pulled Tig over the edge. “Damn, Charlotte,” he said with a chuckle but pulled her hands from his pants and took a step back. “I can’t. I can’t walk into that house having . . . you know.”

“But you can walk into the house with a giant hard-on?” she said, pointedly starting at the very noticeable lump. He chuckled.

“Go on in, baby. Let me take care of this, and I’ll be in shortly.”

Charlotte snorted, but kissed him sweetly on the cheek and went into the house.

Tig scrubbed his face in his hands. “How long has it been since I’ve jacked off in the barn?” he asked himself. He blew out a breath and got down to business.

Floyd Mashburn peered at his stepson and wondered how in the hell he managed to snag a woman like Charlotte Markham. Not that Tig was not a good man, but
this
woman? This woman was way out of his league. Everything about her was expensive, from the top of her mahogany head to the little prissy sneakers on her feet.

He wondered what she got out of this situation; surely it was not only sex. He assumed they were sleeping together even though Hattie had said that Tig slept in his room and Charlotte in the guest room.

“Spit it out, Floyd.” Tig dropped his hands on the tabletop with bang.

Floyd shrugged. “I guess I don’t get it. She’s slumming it with a rough fighter, and then you surprise her by bringing her home to meet your parents? What’s in it for her?”

Tig shook his head. He was tempted to tell Floyd he was an asshole, but he kept his temper in check and merely said, “We like spending time together.”

“So she
does
like a bit of rough,” Floyd said. “Well, the rich ones generally do. Just don’t get her pregnant.”

“You know that’s not an issue,” Tig ground out through clenched teeth.

Floyd scoffed at Tig. “With the luck you have? Yeah, I’d make sure she’s on the pill and you double wrap that thing between your legs.”

“That’s enough, Floyd.” Hattie stepped between the two men in her life. “Charlotte’s a nice girl.”

“Girl? How old is she?”

“Thirty-six,” Tig and Hattie answered together.

“She wants a baby is what she wants,” Floyd said, smug that he figured out what Charlotte’s angle was.

“No, she doesn’t,” they answered together again.

“How do you know?”

“We talked about it,” Hattie said, causing Tig to gape at his mother.

“When?” Tig squeaked.

“This morning before you got up. We had a nice chat.”

Tig buried his face in his hands. “Oh God. That’s why you were talking about . . . stuff.”

Hattie patted her son’s hand. “It’ll be fine, honey. Though I do think that’s she’s more fragile than you know. You need to be careful with that one.”

Tig hoped that Charlotte was still as sound asleep as she was earlier. He had slipped into the guest room and found her passed out, fully clothed. He had taken her shoes off and gotten under the covers with her for a bit, just holding her and watching her sleep. Which, now that he thought about it, was pretty creepy.

“I’d be interested to hear what Neil thought of her,” Floyd murmured.

“He’s of the same opinion as you, funnily enough,” Tig said. “For once you two agree on something. Too bad it’s something that’s none of your fucking business.”

“Trevor,” Hattie warned.

“Don’t, Mama. Just stay out of this. All of you need to stay out of it. We’re having a good time. I like her, she likes me. We’re just playing it by ear, okay?”

“You met her parents?”

Tig shook his head. “No. I probably won’t. Actually, I probably
shouldn’t
. They’re shitty, and as far as I can tell, they treat Charlotte shitty. I don’t know if I could keep my mouth shut.”

“Oh, you know you couldn’t,” Hattie said with a small laugh. “Just be careful, okay?”

“You know I will.”

*****

The next morning, after Charlotte made Tig breakfast without even burning it, at least not much, they headed back to Atlanta.

Charlotte was quiet, even quieter than usual, and that worried Tig.

“Charlotte, what’s up, baby? I know there’s something bothering you, so you might as well just tell me.”

Charlotte huffed a laugh. Tig was so perceptive. He did not miss a thing.

“Your parents don’t care for me.”

Tig scoffed, but he would not meet Charlotte’s eyes. “They like you fine.”

Charlotte exhaled loudly. “Your mother . . .”

“What about her?”

“I think she thinks that I’m too high-maintenance for you. And I know your father—Neil—doesn’t like me.”

“How do you know that, hm? Did he get you alone and say, ‘Charlotte, I don’t like you’?”

“He doesn’t approve of me, then.” She huffed a little laugh at the irony of the situation.

Tig caught her hand in his and brought her fingers to his lips.

“Neil’s . . . ,” Tig began. What was Neil? As asshole? A criminal? A concerned father? “Concerned about you, about us.”

“And Floyd —” Charlotte began.

Tig interrupted her with, “ . . . is an asshole, so don’t worry about him at all.”

Tig nodded and looped his arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. She could feel his big hand cradle the back of her neck, his fingers stroking the fine hairs that had escaped her ponytail.

“We’ve spent the better part of three days together—and not rolling around naked. You need some space tonight?”

“Yeah, I think I might.”

“Okay.” Charlotte felt her eyes heat, but she managed to keep her voice steady.

They pulled up to the Fight Club but continued sitting in the car until Tig spoke. “It’s not you, Charlotte, okay? Never, ever think that it’s you.”

Charlotte remained silent, just breathing in and out, staring straight out at the brick façade of the building.

Tig walked her to her car where it sat in the DS Fight Club parking lot and opened the door for her. Tig squeezed her hand and leaned over to kiss her cheek, cupping her face tenderly before he moved away.

She watched him walk up the stairs, shoulders hunched, cowboy hat down. He paused at the top of the stairs and looked back, raising his hand in farewell before disappearing through the door.

Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds and then opened them, hoping to see him bounding down the steps, having changed his mind. But Tig did not reappear, and Charlotte put the car in reverse, her heart breaking just a little.

Tig watched her from the stairwell. It was all he could do to not run back down the stairs, get in her car, go with her to the apartment she hated, and maybe make her hate it a little less by making some good memories there.

But he did not because he got a familiar text.

Fight tonight. New venue, same time. You in or out, Kicker?

Tig scrubbed his hands over his face and went to his room to grab his fight bag before returning to his truck and heading to a new venue for a new fight. If nothing else, maybe a fight would clear his head.