Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2) (18 page)

BOOK: Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2)
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“Get the fuck off me!” he snarls, clawing at my arm.

“I know you’ve been stalking her, you sick fuck!” I roar.

“What the fuck you talkin’ about? Stalking
who?”

“My girl, Sharlo!”

“I haven’t done shit to her! Fuckin’ A, man! How’d you find my house?”

“I know it was you—you knew
her name!”
I remind him, tightening my hold around his neck. “Tell me the truth or
so help me god
they’ll have to identify you with dental records by the time I’m through with you!”

“I don’t have a fucking
clue
what you’re talking about, man. The only time I’ve ever had
anything
to your girl was the first time we met at the gym. Just because I talked smack about her during the fight doesn’t mean I’m some kind of psycho. It was all just a technique to get you riled up.
Stalking women
isn’t my thing! I’m not into that kind of shit!”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I have a wife and two babies! I’m not stupid enough to do something that could land me in jail. I wouldn’t give them up for the world.
Especially not
for some amateur match!”

Realizing I may have gone too far, I release him and back away. He’s quick to crawl away from me as he sputters and tries to catch his breath. Either he really
is
a psychopath and able to talk his way out of the situation, or he’s being sincere and had nothing to do with Sharlo’s harassment. But
Freddie?
A
family
man?
The alternative—that he’s lying—seems much easier to swallow.

“If I find out you had anything to do with it, I’ll come back and finish you off,” I warn as he’s collecting himself off the floor.

A curvy, dark-haired woman in shorts and a tank top comes dashing down the stairway with a bundle of blankets in her arms. When the baby she’s holding whimpers, she moves the bundle up to her shoulder and pats it lightly, her diamond ring catching my eye.
Jesus, he really does have a family.

The look of concern on the woman’s face comes off as harsh as a slap to the face. It’s the same look Sharlo gave me before I stormed out of our hotel room.
What the hell was I thinking, leaving her to assault an innocent man?

“Baby?” she asks Freddie in a pinched voice, looking from me to her husband. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

Freddie gathers the woman in his arms and bends to kiss their child’s head. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart.” Then he tilts his head my way and smiles. “Remember James from the match last night? He just came by to apologize for beating me down. He’s begging for a re-match so I can return the favor.”

“Doubtful,” the wife snaps, narrowing her dark eyes my way. “You were ruthless in what was supposed to be a fight in the name of
fun.
I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“I’m sorry. I made a mistake.” Hanging my head, I lower my gaze and turn away. Guess I’m a shit judge of character after all.

“When you find the person responsible, don’t let anger cloud your judgment,” Freddie calls out. I spin back around to see him gesture to his wife and their baby. “It’s not worth losing the things that are most important in life.”

His words hit home, making my stomach churn.

* * *

B
y the time
I’ve made my way back to the hotel, I already know I’m in the deepest of shit before the suite door flings open to a tiny little blonde dressed in bright colors that hurt my nearly swollen shut eye. When I meet the woman’s narrowed gaze, I finally recognize her as Charlie’s older sister, Katie. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man twice over.

“You
asshole!”
she exclaims, grabbing a handful of my shirt and hauling me inside. “Okay, I’m sorry I called you that because I don’t actually know you, but you can’t just take off on a pregnant woman when you’re upset! Are you out of your mind?”

“Possibly,” I grumble.

Over the top of her head, I catch Sharlo bursting from the bedroom doors in a silk robe, looking the worst I’ve seen her. Her red-rimmed eyes widen behind her wild hair and her mouth forms a perfect “O” as she runs toward me.

“I was so bloody worried!” she cries, bumping Katie out of the way and throwing herself into my arms. “Where did you run off to?”

Holding my girl tight, I throw a pleading look Katie’s way. Arms crossed over her stomach, she makes a little pouting noise before collecting her purse and cell phone off the coffee table.

“I’m not leaving until I know you two are going to be okay,” she announces. “I’ll be in the hallway if you need me, Shar.” Her icy stare flickers back to me as she makes her way toward the door. “Don’t make me unleash my crazy.” A moment later, the door slams shut behind her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I tell Sharlo, rubbing her back. “I was so pissed I couldn’t think straight.”

“Where’d you go?” she asks, burying her face in my chest.

“Doesn’t matter. I was wrong. I should’ve stayed and talked it out like you said.”

Her ocean-blues travel upward to meet mine, overflowing with fresh tears. “I’m no expert on relationships, but I’m fairly certain there’s a rule out there that clearly states you can’t simply tell a girl you’re
in love
with her for the first time and then storm away without affording her the opportunity to reciprocate.”

A tight band of hope expands across my chest when I draw in a sharp breath. Before I know it, the edges of my lips are curling with a smile. “Are you saying you love me too?”

“Well now that you’ve gone and sucked the romance right out of the moment, I’m not so sure I’m ready to declare my feelings at this point in time.” Clicking her tongue, she rolls her eyes to their corners. “Of
course
I love you, sweetheart. I don’t blubber like a school girl for just anyone.”

Relieved she isn’t as angry as I had expected, I bend to kiss her. Although I vow to find the person responsible for making her life hell, Freddie’s warning hangs heavily in the back of my mind. I swear to myself that I won’t do anything to make Sharlo hate me or, worse yet, do something that would make me lose the two people I wouldn’t know how to live without.

Chapter 18
SOFIA

A
pparently the universe
doesn’t think it’s sufficient enough that my charter plane was delayed by three hours after some imbecile had it double booked, or that the gargantuan my brother-in-law sent to pick me up smells as if he bathes in some off-brand cologne that reminds me of the cheap soap found in public bathrooms. Oh no. Because when I step out of the SUV in front of what must be my little sister’s vacation home in the Hamptons, I twist my ankle on the way down. Not only does my cappuccino spill down the front of my white skirt, but the heel on my Valentinos snaps like a twig.

“Come
on!”
I bleat, catching myself on the side of the vehicle. “Could this day
get
any shittier?”

The driver—I believe he said his name was Donny or something to that affect—comes to my aid from the rear of the vehicle. As I slip the sandals off both feet, the bear-sized man holds my arm, burying my bicep in his massive grip. Even though it’s presumptuous for him to touch me in
any
way, I can’t deny the small wave of flattery that rises in my chest. I’ve been pushing attractive men away for so long that I’m unprepared for the slightest display of intimacy.

“You alright?” he asks, studying me with a cocked eyebrow. He’s handsome enough and his bright green eyes are difficult to look away from, but I can’t get past his foul odor or the plethora of tattoos marring his massive body. He’s more Evelyn’s type—rough around the edges and a bit frightening. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s served time for misdemeanor crimes. “I can run inside and grab you a towel.”

“No need,” I say, waving him off. “I’ll change once I’m situated in my room.” When I reach for my wallet to tip him, the man holds his hands upright and backs away.

“Not necessary. Charlie told me you’re family, which means your ride was covered in my generous salary.” His thick lips curve with a dimpled grin and he motions toward the house with a tilt of his head. “Go ahead. I’ll bring your luggage.”

Though his flirting is innocent, I’m unable to smile in return. I have yet to meet a man that I can be myself around or grant my complete trust. And besides, I’ve invested too much into my future as a cut-throat attorney to let some bodybuilder with a cute smile make me lose my concentration. “Thank you.”

I turn away from him, basking in the warm sun on my face and inhaling the salty sea air. The heat isn’t nearly as intolerable as Texas in the summertime, and I’m looking forward to getting a little color on the beach while here. It’s the only thing that could make this little family reunion bearable.

Jealousy stirs through me with the impressive sight of Evelyn and Charlie’s shingle-style vacation home. My eyes greedily drink in the beautiful woodwork moldings, transom windows, gambrel roof, turrets, and brown shingles used as siding. Despite its light warmth and weather-beaten appearance that would attempt to make you believe it’s humble, I’m sure that between its square footage and the prime beach-side location, the estimated value is more than I’ll earn in a lifetime of representing even the wealthiest of clients. Even without having stepped foot inside, I can say with confidence that my friends in Dallas would simply
die
for a place of this caliber.

Evelyn regards Charlie’s fame with insignificance, and the abbreviated amounts of time I’ve been around them it would seem they’re incapable of keeping their paws off each other, but seriously. The fact that he’s America’s most beloved rockstar and easily worth a quarter of a billion dollars must’ve played some part in the attraction. Although I don’t know my sister as well as a sibling should, I’d be willing to bet my prized Louis Vuitton handbag that money played some factor in her agreement to marry a mere stranger at such a young age. Don’t get me started on that “love at first sight” bullshit because that’s reserved for tacky chick-flicks and those cheap romance novels they sell at grocery stores.

I’m busy appreciating the ornate landscaping as I climb the front steps and fail to notice someone coming out the door until the thick wood collides with my backside. A squeak flies from my mouth as I’m knocked over, landing head-first in a flowering bush, bare feet in the air.
Ouch.
As I’m struggling to escape the prison of greenery, a hand locks around one of my wrists and pulls me upright as if I’m made of air. Blushing, I glance down as I straighten my skirt, happy to see my arms are somehow scratch-free. Then I look up.

All at once I’m facing a man so stunning that, despite being the former captain of the University’s debate team, I’m rendered speechless.
Fuck me.
I’ve always had a weakness for men with well-groomed beards and thick eyebrows. With dark eyes, dark wavy hair, sharp features, and an olive-hued complexion, I’d guess he’s of Greek decent. Not only that, but he’s built like someone who treats his body like a temple and spends a fair amount of time in the gym. The best part? He looks to be somewhere in his mid to late twenties. Right around my age.

From his designer button-down rolled at the sleeves, I can’t help wondering if he’s a successful businessman of some kind who doesn’t know how to completely let loose. Broad shoulders set, square chin high, ridiculously muscular chest puffed out just slightly—I would venture to guess he’s in control of every aspect of his life and isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. A warm spasm licks between my legs with the imagery of him dominating me in the bedroom.

Pulling my shoulders back, I press my lips together and meet his alluring, russet-colored eyes. They’re lit with humor as he struggles to hold back a smile. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t see you coming. Are you okay?”

Guys like him are inevitably smooth talkers, able to negotiate their way inside a woman’s panties with a mere wink or a smile. It’s the reason I’ve always stuck to the intellectual, homely type. They’re a safe bet and no-nonsense, providing minimal conflict in my life. I’m not letting this cocky son of a bitch get to me.

“My pride’s a little bruised, but I think I’ll live,” I reply. When he chuckles inside his hand, I narrow my eyes. Even if he
is
hotter than Hades, I’m infuriated that he’s humored at my expense. “Could you maybe
not
laugh? I’ve had a crappy day and you’re not making it any better.”

Shaking his head, his smile grows. “Sorry, it’s just…” He reaches above my head. From the corner of my eye I catch sight of a silver Rolex on his wrist. Hot
and
loaded. I freeze as his hand plucks something from my hair. A second later he produces a cluster of shrubbery. “Just as I suspected, you’re even more beautiful without this in your hair.”

Face warm with the compliment, I push a stray strand of golden hair behind my ear. “Oh.”

All at once Charlie’s driver joins us with my luggage in tow. “Hey, Nolan,” he greets the playboy, grinning. When they bump fists, I hold back an eye-roll. They’re both so infuriatingly macho, they may as well be crossing dicks in a show of their manhood.

“Can you show me to my room now?” I ask the driver, pinning my arms tight against my stomach.

“I can take her,” Nolan offers, taking my luggage away from the man. “Charlie sent me out here to find you, Dante. He wants you to make a run for more ice.”

“I’m on it,” Dante answers with a tip of his chin. Predictably, he throws me a flirty wink. “Good meeting you, Sofia. Go inside and take a shot to unwind. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Not happening,” I snap, unable to keep paranoia from rearing its ugly head. Is he suggesting I “unwind” so I’m more vulnerable to his advances? Realizing I came off as crass, I recover with, “I mean, shooting alcohol isn’t my
thing.”

“Okay then.” He exchanges an unsure glance with Nolan before retreating. Once he’s gone, Nolan faces me once again, one of his eyebrows lifted. The combined raspberry and leather scent of his cologne tickles my nose, smelling an awful lot like Tom Ford.
Classy bastard.

“So you’re Evelyn’s sister. I’m sorry about your father.”

I nod once, having no idea what else to say. “Any of my other siblings here yet?”

“Just James.”

“Lucky you.”

Nolan shrugs. “He seems like a good guy.”

“He can be,” I mutter to myself as he starts for the house, pulling my suitcase with one hand and lugging my carry-on with the other. I debated for the better part of a week whether or not I wanted to accept Evelyn’s invitation. Being around James all weekend is going to bring back too many memories.

I sigh deeply when stepping inside my sister’s “play house.” It’s even more impressive than the outside, possessing the perfect decor and furniture combination for a relaxing retreat that includes the salty smell of the ocean and the distant roar of waves.

Inside a state-of-the-art kitchen there’s a spectacular display of food and beverages complete with red, white, and blue orchids expertly arranged atop the white linens. Several cute, young caterers mill about, one of them flashing a polite smile when I meet his gaze. They’re so good-looking that I half expect them to strip down to g-strings later in the evening.

Where did
that
come from? Oh yeah, that’s right.
The need to get laid.

Beyond a wall of sliding glass doors that are wide open for the occasion, dozens of people mingle as Charlie and his bandmates assemble their instruments on a make-shift stage. Just as I catch sight of my youngest sister with her British friend, both of them appearing so happy and carefree that it make me envious, Nolan hands me a flute of champagne.

“You’re the one who went to law school in Texas, right?” he asks.

“Yessir,” I answer, unsure if the southern drawl that comes out was intended or accidental.

“You should consider relocating to Manhattan after graduation. I have a long list of friends who could use a good attorney. Myself included.”

“How do you know I’m any good?” I look at him from behind the glass before taking a drink. My stomach instantly burns when the light bubbles slip down my throat, adding to the warm burn Nolan has already started. “I haven’t even taken the bar.”

“You’re from the Midwest and you’re Ev’s sister. What else do I need to know?” A sexy as hell smirk tilts his beautiful lips as he waits for me to deny it’s true.

“If we’re making assumptions, then I would guess you spend your days chasing bunnies around your ranch.”

A deep, rolling laugh falls from his lips. “Not even close. I own the bar in Brooklyn Heights where your sister once waitressed.”

He must be the classiest bar owner in the city
. Before I can interrogate him any more, my little sister steps inside the house, her dark eyes wide and a bright smile pulling at her lips. She’s changed in the short time since Dad’s funeral, appearing more sophisticated in a well-coordinated outfit of dark blue Daisy Duke shorts, a bright red tank top, dark hair pulled back with a white bandanna.

“Sof!” She runs to me and flings her arms around my shoulders, almost knocking me over in surprise.
When did she get so physical?
“I’m so glad you’re here! The others should be here any minute. I can’t wait to have the whole family together again!”

“You must be deep into the booze already,” I comment with a stuttering laugh. Though she doesn’t appear drunk, I can’t explain her perky mood unless, of course, it’s because she’s in stupid love with her husband.
Ugh
. The idea makes my eyes yearn to roll to the back of my head.

“Says the girl with a drink in hand,” she retorts playfully. Then her eyes catch on my skirt and luggage. “Let’s get you settled in your room. I have some stain remover you can use.”

“I’ll bring her luggage,” Nolan offers, setting his glass down to lug my things.

“Thanks,” Evelyn tells him, turning to wiggle her eyebrows my way. When we start off down a long hallway, she whispers, “You two seem to be getting along well.”

I ignore her comment, unwilling to admit he’s working his way under my skin in a favorable way. I simply need to remind myself that I’m only in town for a few days and my hectic life doesn’t allow for a meaningless fling. Evelyn leads me inside a small bedroom that’s charming as hell. White walls, white ceiling fan, dark wooden floor, blue Persian rug, antique armoire, and a 4-poster iron bed with white curtains make it a serious contender for the most tastefully decorated bedroom I’ve ever stepped foot inside. As much as I want to ask who’s responsible for the beautiful design, I’m too jealous to utter a word.

“Sorry we don’t have enough beds for everyone to get their own,” Evelyn tells me, crossing the room to open a set of French doors. “You’re sharing with Angie. At least you two will have your own private backyard to hang out in if the madness gets to be too much in the next few days.”

Nolan passes me to set my luggage on the white comforter. “I’ll let you two catch up.” Then he spins around to give me a dimpled grin. “I’ll save you a spot up front by the band.”

Heat spreads through my cheeks when he walks out.

“Oooh, I think
someone
has caught Nolan’s attention,” Evelyn sings, flopping down next to my luggage. The doe-eyed look she gives me gets on my nerves.

Huffing, I cross the room to the bed and tug at my suitcase zipper. “Not interested in a player like him.”

“You’d be surprised. He’s super sweet, Sof, and he, like,
never
dates. You should give him some serious consideration.”

“And what?” I snap, rifling through my clothes. “Start a relationship over Skype?” It hadn’t occurred to me that I should pack anything remotely sexy. Every item of clothing I consider is boring and safe.

When I look up at Evelyn, her eyes are narrowed and her arms are crossed. “I thought you weren’t sure where you wanted to work after graduation. I’m sure New York offers loads of opportunities for lawyers.”

“First
you
move way the hell out here and now I’m hearing
James
isn’t going back home either. You expect me to drink the Kool-Aid next? I don’t know what’s so exciting about New York. It’s filthy and packed with criminals.” I shimmy out of my skirt and step into a pair of linen shorts good for making my legs appear extra long and lean. “Besides, I don’t think I could stand being that close to James again.”

BOOK: Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2)
2.97Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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