The Fighter's Stubborn Lover (The Burton Brothers Series Book 2) (2 page)

Mason watched Avery’s eyes go dark. He heard her breath catch in small gasps. She stood, and her eyes rolled back in her head. For the second time in ten minutes, he found himself using his reflexes to catch her.

Knocking over his chair, he grabbed her and lowered her to the wood-plank floor. He could hear someone shouting to call for help. Mason felt for her pulse. Way too fast, but steady. Her breaths were still shallow and rasping, and he knew what that meant. Looking up, he nodded to the kid who’d been serving coffee behind the counter and who’d come running over. “Check her purse. See if she’d got an inhaler. I think she’s having breathing trouble.”

The kid rummaged through her purse, dumped half Avery’s stuff on the table, but he found the damn inhaler. Propping Avery up, Mason held the inhaler to her face and told her, “Breathe—breathe, dammit.”

She wrapped her hand around his and sucked down the medication that would open her lungs again. Mason could hear sirens getting closer. Dammit, what was her problem? She’d gone from looking ready to fight him for her brother to collapsing on him. He wasn’t sure what was going on in that brain she was hiding beneath all of that glorious hair of hers, but he aimed to find out.

An ambulance pulled up outside and two EMTs hurried in, carrying bags. Mason moved out of their way and they started asking questions, putting an oxygen mask on Avery. She was coming out of it now, blinking, her skin going from way too pale to pink again.

The EMTs let her sit up, but she kept refusing transport with them. Mason hovered close by—he couldn’t just leave her. He wanted to protect her—look after her. Yeah, maybe she wasn’t a fan of his sport, but what mattered was that she didn’t look like she was so hot about looking after herself.

To him she looked exhausted. From the faint bruising beneath her eyes, and the lack of color in her face, he guessed that worry over her brother had taken a physical toll on her body.

She signed a release form and promised the EMTs she’d do a better job of remembering to use her inhaler. The EMTs started to pack up, the coffee shop’s patrons started to find something else to interest them, and Mason came over and took Avery’s hand. “Don’t do that on me.”

She gave a shrug and then pinned him with a stare. “I’ll promise, if you promise to look after Dustin.”

“Look after him is what I do.”

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean. Come on, let’s get you something hot inside of you that isn’t caffeine. I don’t know about you but emergencies leave me starving.” He helped her to her feet, headed over to the counter and ordered herbal tea for her and bought a pastry.

Glancing back at Avery, he wondered what it was about her that got under his skin. Yeah, she was drop-dead beautiful. But he’d seen his share of babes. They hung around the MMA, flowers coming to the bees for a change.

But Avery…something about her spoke to his protective instincts, something that very few women had ever done. His mother, and his grandmother before her death…he’d have given his life for either of those women. There was something about Avery that reminded him of those women—a core, inner strength under the fragile exterior.

Maybe it’s because all you’ve dated recently were ring girls.

Being on the MMA circuit had lots of perks—the biggest one being the bevy of females that flocked the hallways after each fight, hoping to celebrate with the winner. Those women all knew the score—fun times and nothing long term. But Mason had lost his taste for that a few months back, and not just from his injury.

Picking up the tea and pastry, he headed back to Avery. He put both down in front of her and sat down. Staring at her as she picked at the pastry, he didn’t think she’d be the type to jump into that social circle of MMA groupies. He’d bet she’d expect commitment and probably a ring on her finger. Shaking his head, he looked down at his own coffee, gone cold now. What the hell was he going to do with her? He’d promised Dustin some help in dealing with her, but he hadn’t expected Dustin’s sister to be so…so damn sweet.

She was also picky. She flaked the frosting off the pastry, sniffed at her tea and stirred it twice. He watched her work and when she looked up and caught him watching, he put on a smile and asked, “See anything you like? Anything at all?”

Her cheeks pinked and she looked away. “How do I convince you to at least stop training Dustin? That would be better than nothing.”

She bit into her pastry. Two bites later, it was gone. Mason lifted his eyebrows. He knew the look of hunger when he saw it. “When was the last time you ate?”

She straightened—but she also squirmed a little in her seat. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been travelling for the last few days. It took some time to find Dustin. I didn’t realize Gilson was so…so…”

“Isolated? Back end of nowhere?” Mason nodded. “Helps keep a fighter focused. But Gilson’s big time for this part of Oregon. It’s got the only movie theater for almost two hundred miles in any direction.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Wow!” She caught herself and put back on the prim face. “Well, anyway, I’m here. And I’m staying until Dustin comes to his senses. So don’t tell me this is probably the biggest mistake of my life—I have to do something! I don’t think I could handle losing Dustin as well…” She bit off the words and her face paled.

For a second Mason wondered if she was going to go down on him again, but she picked up her tea and sipped it. He could see her pulling in deep breaths.
As well as what?
But she was right. It wasn’t any of his business. No, he’d been dragged into this by Dustin and now by her, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in the middle of this family argument.

He let out a breath. “Look, it’s late enough, and I was headed to dinner. How about I buy and you can explain why you don’t want Dustin fighting?” Mason gave her a small grin. He stood and picked up her coat off the back of her chair. He held it out for her to put on.

“Pushy much?” she asked.

He just kept holding her coat out so she could put it on. Standing, Avery slid her arms into the sleeves of her jacket. She grabbed her scarf and woolen hat from the table. “Does dinner also mean I don’t just explain—you’ll actually listen?”

“Heart to God.” Mason said, putting his hand on his chest. “Now, come on, let’s get a table before all the greedy people get there.”

He held the door for her, and caught a sideways look from her for it. What—didn’t she think guys should have manners? His mom had drilled them into him. Outside, the wind had picked up and felt like it was coming straight off the Arctic Circle. It pushed snow into his face. He grabbed Avery’s gloved hand. “So we don’t get lost.” Pulling her with him, he led the way down a block and crossed into Bob’s Place.

Inside, a bell jingled over the door. Warmth and the aroma of good cooking hit him like a blanket—a really comfortable, homey one. He dragged off his coat and called out, “Hey, Beth.”

Beth looked up from behind the back counter. Solidly built, it was clear she loved her husband’s cooking. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a pony tail, and had on a plaid shirt, jeans, and sturdy boots. She always looked ready to head out to the back woods to cut lumber. She grinned. “Hey there, Mason. You got company?”

“Sure do. This is Avery. What’s the special today?”

“Robert’s made his famous meatloaf with mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans.”

“Sounds good to me. Make that two specials.”

Next to him, Avery cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but could I just have soup and a grilled cheese?”

Mason stared at her, but Beth smiled and nodded. “Coming right up. Take your pick of tables, the dinner crowd hasn’t shown up as of yet. I’ll bring you some waters.”

Beth sauntered off, whistling as she headed toward the kitchen. Mason selected a table next to the windows, removing his coat and throwing it over one of the extra chairs. “This okay with you?”

Avery began to take off her winter wear again. When she finally removed everything, he was once again amazed at the beautiful woman concealed underneath the bulky clothing. She wasn’t model thin, but she had a nice trim waist and curves in all the right places. And that long hair—that could give a guy fantasies for a decade. She plopped down in the bentwood chair opposite him. “I asked for help with Dustin, not with my entire life.”

He grinned and propped his chin on his hand and his elbow on the table. “Seems to me you need help—driving all this way, not eating, thinking you can order your brother around. Ever occur to you he’s a grown man?”

Her mouth thinned, and he wondered what she’d do if he leaned over and kissed her. Hard. Glancing down at the table, she started rearranging her silverware. “About Dustin…?”

Mason straightened. “Why would you want to deprive Dustin of something he’s obviously good at and loves? What’s got you spooked? I mean I’ve heard pretty much all of it. For some folks its religion or fear of blood or injury, or you think maybe he’s too sensitive?”

Avery looked up. “I don’t want him to get hurt. He’s all I have.” A look of utter sadness flashed briefly in her blue eyes. “You must know our parents are dead. And…well, I don’t think Dustin’s realized what really could happen. He’s never been good about looking after himself and…well, you know I have asthma. Dustin may have medical conditions that he—”

“No. Dustin’s in great shape. Every fighter knows he needs to look after his body. And Dustin knows the score. He isn’t afraid of a few bruises, or cuts, or—”

“Dying?” Avery slammed her hand down on the table, her palm flat. The silverware rattled. “Do you really think he’s thought about that?” She curled her hand into a fist and stared him down. Tears glittered in her eyes.

Mason sat back and waited. Would she get her control back or was she going to fall apart? He tried to read her and figure out what to do. His dad had been a family therapist by day and a Sensei and martial arts teacher by night. Often, the two had melded together.

Mason could remember numerous times when his father had been pulled from the dojo floor to deal with an emotional parent. He’d been a great listener. “Always give them plenty of time to calm down—you can’t talk when emotions are high.” That had been dad’s philosophy.

Avery brushed at her eyes. After a moment, she looked up. “How much did Dustin tell you about us…about his family?”

“Not much, to tell the truth. I mean, he did mention he had a sister. You. But…well, he said you weren’t all that hyped on him fighting and that’s about it.”

Avery nodded. Beth came out with the food and Mason said, “Look, how about a time out? Enjoy our food first, talk later. No sense mixing the two—they never do mix all that well. Tell me about…about your cat or something.”

“Cat?” A fraction of a smile tugged at her mouth. “I don’t have a cat.”

He smiled. “What? I thought every witch had a cat, and you’re bewitching me a little here.”

She stared at him. “Does that line ever work for you?”

He gave a laugh. “Nope. Okay, no cat and not a witch. Let’s stick with the weather—or I’ll tell you about my brothers. That’ll fill the dinner time.” He watched her cut the crust off her sandwich. She ate about half of it, sipped her soup, added pepper, pulled out half the veggies and spooned up only the broth. She was more than picky—she was a girl with something tugging on her. And tugging hard.

When it looked like she wasn’t going to eat anything more, he pushed back his plate and asked, “So explain to me why you think Dustin is in danger of dying if he fights?”

Avery’s throat tightened. “I’ve seen…” She pulled in a breath and let it out. “My brother trained to fight in the MMA. But he couldn’t wait. He got into underground cage fighting.”

“Wait a minute? Dustin went underground?”

She shook her head. “Not Dustin. Edward. He was the oldest.” She looked up at him. “You must know what it’s like—no holds barred. No rules. No referees. Ed got his neck broken. I’ve already lost one brother to fighting. I can’t lose another. I just can’t!”

Mason could easily understand where she was coming from, but her other brother had died in an underground fight. “You do know the MMA has rules designed to keep the fighters safe to fight another day. There’s a difference between the two venues.”

“And what if Dustin wants a shortcut, too?”

He shook his head. “What Dustin’s training to do isn’t like the fight that killed your brother. I’ve been fighting for eight years and I’ve never had anything worse than a concussion.”

Avery’s mouth thinned. She crossed her arms. “Which could leave you with brain damage when you’re older, or worse medical conditions. And Dustin’s not nearly as big or strong as you are. He’s going to get hurt—badly!”

Mason struggled to find a way to help her see a different side of MMA. “Look, why don’t you come back up to the training compound with me? You can watch him train and see for yourself that he’s ready for this upcoming fight. And that this is really good for him. You try to get him off track with MMA and you may just push him underground.”

“He’s going to be angry with me for tracking him down.”

He grinned. “Probably. I have two brothers myself, and every time I’ve tried to protect them from themselves we’ve ended up nearly killing each other.” Seeing the look of horror cross her face, he tried to soften his word’s impact. “That’s metaphorical killing. Look, I’ve only known Dustin for a few months, and yeah maybe he’s not going to thank you for showing up, but you’re family. He’ll get over it and he might surprise you. Now, if you’re finished eating, show me where you’re parked. You can follow me up to the training compound.”

Avery bit her lip for a moment before she slowly nodded. “Okay. I’m parked a little ways from the post office.”

“Good. My truck’s right in front of the post office. Why don’t you ride with me? Dustin can bring you back to town later?”

Avery glancing at her watch and then outside the diner window. The sun was already starting to drop behind the mountains. It would most likely be dark by the time she was able to return to town. She shook her head and grabbed her cap. “Uhm…I really need to get a room first. I don’t think that’s something I want to handle in the dark. Maybe we could stop by a hotel?” She saw Mason shaking his head. “Let me guess, not only does Gilson not have fast food, it doesn’t have a hotel?”

“Motel’s fifty miles west of here.”

Avery huffed out a breath. “I thought small towns were supposed to be hospitable. Exactly where do people stay when they come here?”

“With the people they’re here to visit. Gilson doesn’t usually get unwanted visitors.”

Avery’s brow furrowed as she crossed her arms against her chest. “With a fifty miles drive, I think I’ll come back tomorrow and see Dustin.”

“Nonsense. That’s fifty mountain miles. It’ll take you almost two hours, one way, to get there, and that’s if you get there given the snow that’s coming down. The plough has probably already been put away for the night. You can come up to the compound with me and you can stay in one of the extra cabins for the night. And we’ll just have to hope you don’t have to bunk with some new fighters coming in.”

She stared at him. His eyes glittered bright and he held up a hand. “Kidding. You don’t joke around enough.”

“That’s because I take this seriously—unlike you.”

Mason shook his head. “Oh, fighting is serious business. It’s everything else I don’t take seriously. Now come on. The compound is a short-term training camp for those interested in fighting in the MMA world. We’ve got fighters coming in for two weeks intervals, and staying in the cabins at the compound. You’ll meet Tavvy—he helps run the place. And Terry Anders—he’s the best trainer around, but he’s just getting over a stroke so try not to notice too much if he talks a little funny.”

She glanced sideways at him. “I’m not insensitive.”

“Oh, I know that. But I just want to warn you—these guys are here to train. I’ve got a fight coming up in less than five months. And that means you need to work at not being a distraction.”

She rolled her eyes. “I just want to convince Dustin to come home with me.”

“And if you can’t?”

She shook her head. “I don’t plan to fail.” Avery donned her winter coat again. She was growing tired of the need to bundle up each time she stepped foot outside. She’d grown up in the mountains of Colorado, and even though they’d received lots of snow each winter, the air had never felt quite this cold.

Who knew there’d be this much humidity so far from the ocean?

She’d never been to Oregon before. The snow-covered mountains had reminded her of home, and had stirred a wistful yearning for her childhood—back when she Edward and Dustin had all been kids. She still missed Ed every damn day. She was not losing another brother to this brutal sport—and if that meant heading up to a training camp with a bunch of fighters, she’d do that, too.

Glancing outside, she was glad Mason was driving. The snow was still coming down. When she’d encountered the fresh snow on the roads, she’d been grateful she’d learned to drive in the mountains of Colorado. But she’d also chosen to drive through the night last night—afraid that the snow would continue to fall and the roads would close before she could get through—and she wasn’t up to a second night of driving. She pulled her hat over her hair, not bothering to gather it up, or tuck it underneath. That required more energy than she had at the moment. With her stomach full, her lack of sleep was demanding attention next.

Yawning, she glanced up to find Mason watching her with a gleam in his eyes. His light blue, almost gray eyes were mesmerizing. The color seemed to shift with his every mood and thought. What—did he know how little sleep she’d had? She felt herself blushing under his scrutiny. She wrapped her scarf over her face, glad for the cover it provided. Her winter clothes were more like armor—only she wasn’t sure if she wore it against the weather or Mason.

Gathering up her purse and gloves, she gave him a nod. “I’m ready.”