Fighting for Love Read online

  It was going to feel good to do something different, and it was only the beginning.

  THE MUSCLES IN MY THIGHS and calves burned as I raced through another mile … and then another. Every morning before going to the gym I ran at least three to four miles per my coach’s order, but at the moment I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to go harder. The more I pushed myself the better I became. It was something I learned a long time ago. Some people had things handed to them, while others just sat on their asses not giving a shit about making themselves better. I, on the other hand, worked hard for all that I had, and not a day went by when I didn’t strive to move up another step. It was all I lived for: training and fighting.

  Even during the off season I trained just like I would if I was competing. Now my off time was over, and in a couple of days I would have my first fight in the Golden State MMA Tour at the Sleep Train Arena in Sacramento.

  Fuck Sacramento.

  It was the one city I loved once before, but now hated. I had a worthless excuse of a father who left my mother when I was eight years old with nothing to help support me or my sister. Every day since then I’ve worked my ass off, doing various jobs for our neighbors so I could help keep us afloat until I got old enough to get a real job. As soon as I saved enough money, I packed up my mother and younger sister and left, never once looking back. Recently, my mother followed her dream and opened up her own hair salon, and my sister was in her third year of college studying Marine Biology.

  My mother refused to come to my fights because she said it wasn’t intended for a mother to have to watch someone else try to hurt her son, but my sister was a different story. She was my biggest fan and had promised to come to a couple of my fights this month since the tour was going to be in California. The only thing I hated about her being there was the worthless, douche bag fighters that always tried to hit on her when I turned my back. It was a pain in the fucking ass.

  For the tour I was going to be fighting against new and established MMA fighters. The only major fights were at the very end of the tour, when every single champion had to defend their title against the fighters with the most points from last season. I was a nobody when I fought in it six years ago, but luckily I became noticed and landed my sponsorship, along with my agent, Garrett Wells.

  Speaking of my agent, by the time I made it into my driveway, Garrett’s metallic silver BMW M5 sat parked in front of my garage. He leaned against it and talked animatedly into the Bluetooth earpiece I’d never seen him without. Knowing him he probably slept with the damn thing on. With an immense grin on his face, he waved me over and ended the call with the press of a button, still leaving that stupid earpiece hooked onto his ear.

  “I have some good news,” he marveled, loosening up the tie around his neck with a smug expression. “And I know you’re going to thank me for it.”

  He was the best agent around, and one of the main reasons my name had spread as far as it has, but the guy could seriously be an arrogant cocksucker at times. Garrett was twenty-eight years old—the same as me—and never once had I seen him in something other than a suit or some kind of expensive clothing. The guy probably spends more time getting ready than a damn female.

  Give me a pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt and I was good to go. Growing up with nothing kept me grounded and I planned on staying that way. Coming to a halt in front of him, I leaned over on my knees so I could take in some deep breaths to slow my heart down after the six miles I’d just run.

  Once my breathing slowed, I peered up at him and asked, “Oh yeah? What news would that be?”

  Garrett’s grin grew wider. “You, Matt Reynolds, are going to be this month’s feature in one of the most popular magazines in the world. Not only will your face be on the cover, but it’s going to be a ten page spread following your life as an MMA fighter. They are also going to cover your fights in the Golden State tour. However, it’s not going to be just a simple interview. For the whole month of the tour they’ll be coming to some of your practices, the fights, and all other events so they can get to know you and show the readers what an amazing athlete you are. Just think of the exposure you’ll get.”

  How in the hell did I land this? I wondered, wide-eyed.

  “Really? Which magazine?” I asked in disbelief. I’d been interviewed and featured in magazines before, especially MMA magazines, but nothing I would consider one of the most prominent in the world.

  “Have you ever heard of Physique?” he countered slyly with a smirk.

  Immediately, my mouth dropped open and I gasped, “You can’t be serious? Did they say why they wanted me?” Not that I wasn’t widely known, but Physique usually handled professional athletes in football, basketball, and baseball, not MMA fighting.

  “Weeelllll,” Garrett drawled out slowly, “that’s the thing. They were interested in you or Mason Bradley, and with everything that went down a few months ago with him and the whole deal in Las Vegas they thought it would add a good story to the spread. However, since he’s not competing this season I convinced them that for the time being you would be the perfect choice. Imagine the hype you’re going to get when you and Mason compete for the Heavyweight title. I bet every seat in the house will be sold out.”

  Yeah, if he ever comes back to the sport.

  Mason Bradley had been the one fighter I looked up to when I was training. I couldn’t wait to get in the cage with him, but by the time I got into the MMA scene he had already quit just when he was getting a name for himself. A few months ago, he came back into the circuit and I finally got in the ring with him; it was the toughest and best fight of my life. Now he was a good friend, always taking the time to train with me, but when it came time for me to defend my title I was going to kick his ass.

  “When does all of this start?” I asked.

  “This weekend,” Garrett replied, “except I’m waiting on a call from Bryan Winters, the owner of Physique, to give me more details once he gets in touch with the journalist who’s doing the spread. Her name is Paige Monroe, and from what Bryan says she’s the best journalist he has. I thought maybe we could meet her for lunch this week so she could get a feel for who you are and maybe go over your itinerary. Does that sound like a good plan?”

  “Hell yeah,” I exclaimed, shaking his outstretched hand. “Just let me know when and where and I’ll be there.”

  Garrett nodded and opened his car door. “Will do. I’ll call you as soon as I hear something.”

  After starting his car, he sped out of the driveway and was gone. It was close to the end of week, and once the fight this weekend was over I’d begin another hectic schedule of training and preparing for another fight. I worked hard for what I had, and as soon as I earned my first real paycheck I did buy things that I never dreamt I could acquire.

  I had a five bedroom house with a total of fourteen rooms altogether, including my own movie theater. There were two swimming pools, one outside and one in, with a swim up bar that I had fully stocked when I threw my parties. My five car garage housed all of my toys, ranging from my Ducati 1198 on up to my Aston Martin DBS.

  However, nothing could outshine the first car I ever bought; it was a 1977 electric blue, Ford Bronco Ranger convertible. I had a lot of good memories in that car, but there was one memory that no matter how hard I tried I could never forget. It was the reason I fought so hard to become what I was today. I had everything I could ever want, but of course, money couldn’t buy you everything. There was something missing, and it had been for over ten years.

  TAKING THE DAY OFF FROM work was the best thing I could have done for myself. I had never felt so refreshed in my life. It just so happened that Caleb was free for the day, so when I texted him about meeting me at the beach he immediately replied back with a yes.

  I might as well give the guy a chance, I thought to myself. What did I have to lose?

  When I got home, I found a note from Jace on the kitchen counter saying he had an audition for a lead role in some kind of roma
nce film that would be filmed in North Carolina. He’s landed some good roles in the past, but never a lead part. I hope he gets it.

  After I changed into my new pink and black bikini, a pair of denim shorts, and my favorite hot pink tank top, I was ready to go. My bag was packed with towels and magazines just in case my time with Caleb turned out to be not as fantastic as the night before when we were both feeling the love from the alcohol. Being around someone sober was way different than being tipsy.

  Since I didn’t live far from the beach I usually just walked, and thankfully, by the time my toes sunk into the cold, gritty sand, the sun finally decided to clear away from the thin layer of clouds and beam down on me. It was a perfect June day; usually it was foggy at this time of year, but for some reason the sun decided to show its lovely face and put some color to my skin.

  Laying two towels on the sand, I dropped my bag down on one since the wind would probably blow it away if I didn’t, and sat down on the other. East Beach wasn’t exactly the ideal place you’d come to swim because of the brutal riptide currents and the fear of drowning, but it was absolutely one of the most beautiful beaches around. There also weren’t a lot of tourists at this time of year, which was perfect for me because I never liked crowded beaches to begin with. However, I did love to watch the surfers, and I was determined to write one of my ten page spreads on one of our famous locals, Logan Calder. He was amazing out there on the waves.

  I wasn’t the one who made the decisions as far as who got picked for the articles, but the next pitch to my boss would definitely be to recommend Logan. He was already out there on the water paddling around on his board with a couple of other guys that were almost as good as him … almost.

  “Surfers, huh?” a voice called out behind me. “I might as well turn around now because I know I can’t compete with that.”

  Immediately, I recognized the sound of that deep, husky voice; it was Caleb.

  Snickering, I glanced over my shoulder and taunted back, “Hey, I can’t help it that I like surfers. Why don’t you get out there and see if they’ll give you lessons?” Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a white button-down shirt that hung open to reveal a perfectly nice set of chiseled abs, Caleb strolled toward me with a huge grin on his face.

  Chuckling, he sat down on the towel beside me once I moved my bag out of the way. “Screw that,” he exclaimed. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the ocean and all, but me trying to balance my weight on a board in that type of rough water? Not happening. You’ll probably take pictures and put them in your magazine.”

  Snickering, I shook my head and smiled. “And you’re probably right,” I agreed, nudging him in the side with my elbow. “But Hayley’s sister is the one I get to take the pictures. She’s the expert with the camera.”

  Caleb looked a little different today; a hat hid his dark blond hair, and a pair of Oakley sunglasses covered his hypnotic green eyes. Peeking out from underneath the sleeves of his shirt I could see the markings of tattoos on his bulging biceps that extended all the way up his arms and over his bare chest, which I couldn’t see last night since he wore a thin, long-sleeved sweater to the party. My fingers itched to slide up his sleeves and over his skin to look at them. I loved tattoos on men.

  As far as surfing, Caleb didn’t have the body type to be one at all. I would say he was about six foot two and probably two hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle; he was a big guy and a personal trainer. Most professional surfers were lean and lithe, muscular but not overly bulky. Jace had that body type, but that was probably because he was actually a surfer in his spare time when he wasn’t acting.

  “I’m glad you texted me. I honestly didn’t think I’d hear from you,” Caleb remarked.

  Furrowing my brows, I turned to him and asked, “Why not?”

  He took off his sunglasses and pinned his gaze on mine, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess because you’re a successful person and I’m not. I’m just a personal trainer and a volunteer fireman who likes to have fun and joke around. I know Hayley’s sister is your best friend and she’s with a lawyer. From what I’ve experienced, friends typically stick to the same type of crowd if you know what I mean. I don’t exactly fit into that style.”

  Was he serious? I wondered incredulously.

  Whatever I was going to say in response completely left me because I couldn’t stop laughing. Caleb couldn’t be any further from the truth if he tried.

  He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “I’m glad I could amuse you,” he stated slowly. “Do you mind telling me what’s so funny?”

  “You are, that’s what,” I answered. “Caleb, I couldn’t care less where you come from or how much money you have. Everyone is successful in their own way. You’re a firefighter, right?” He nodded. “Okay, so you’ve probably helped save lives. I’ve never done that! Besides, just because someone has money doesn’t mean they’re good people. Trust me, I’ve dated my fair share of wealthy men and they aren’t all that.”

  With a smirk on his face, Caleb turned his body and put his arm on the other side of my legs; his back was to the water and he was facing me, caging me in almost. “So what you’re saying is that when I talked to you last night, and when I kissed you, it wasn’t just the alcohol that made you give in?”

  There were a couple of reasons why I let him kiss me. Shaking my head, I replied, “No, it wasn’t just the alcohol. I mean, yes, it helped because I wasn’t so nervous, but it wasn’t the only reason why I let you. As much as I hate to say this, you remind me of someone I once knew.”

  Everything about him reminded me of Matt except for the hair color. His eyes, his body, and the way he spoke were so similar. Is that the only reason why I’m interested in him? I silently asked myself. I didn’t want it to be, but if I intended to date this guy I needed to find out. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.

  “Who do I remind you of?” he asked softly, moving his lips closer to mine. “An old boyfriend?”

  Reluctantly, I nodded, averting my gaze. “It was a long time ago. Sometimes I wish I could forget.”

  Lifting his hand to my cheek, he bit his lip and smiled. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll be more than happy to help you forget about him.”

  Closing my eyes, I felt his lips touch mine and I gave in. Yes, please help me forget.

  IT WAS NICE, FOR ONCE, to wake up with a smile on my face. The smell of eggs, bacon, and sautéed bell peppers cooking travelled all the way down the hall into my room. Jace’s abilities in the kitchen were beyond incredible and I loved it when he was around to cook the meals. If he was away filming a movie, I happily cooked my own food—and I considered myself a good cook—but I didn’t compare to him. I’d barely seen him in two days and I couldn’t wait to tell him about Caleb.

  My time of solitude was over and now I had to get ready for work. The day at the beach with Caleb was just what I needed to get my mind focused on the right track. After talking and making out on the sand all afternoon, we finally split ways even though I knew he wanted to finish what we started. Hell, even I was sexually frustrated, but I knew it would be a mistake to have sex with him after knowing him for only two days.

  We did make plans to go out to dinner on Sunday, since Saturday night he had to work, and we decided to ask Hayley and her boyfriend, along with Lexi and Will, to join us. I thought it would be fun, and that way I could spend time with my friends and him.

  Once I finished pinning up the last of my hair in a classy updo my hair stylist showed me, I slid on my brown knee-high boots and hurried out of my room, making loud clanking noises as my heels beat against the hardwood floor on the way toward the kitchen. The house actually belonged solely to me and was completely in my name, but Jace helped pay the mortgage each month, as did Lexi when she used to live in the house. It was a contemporary style Victorian home with arched doorways, hardwood floors, and one of the most wonderful views of the bay on the third floor. I fell in love with it instantly.

 
The kitchen was Jace’s favorite place and one of the most striking rooms in the house. It was all white marble and white countertops; very sleek and bright. Jace had his back to me, facing the stove, and was wearing only a pair of dark blue running shorts that hung low on his hips.

  His body was perfect for television and he got the chance to show it off plenty of times on the big screen. He also worked hard to keep those sculpted muscles and smooth skin; however, it was his charming smile that always won the producers over. Not to mention he had the biggest heart out of anyone I knew, but he liked to keep that quality about him a secret.

  In college, after my world flipped upside down, Jace and Lexi both stayed with me in my apartment for a few weeks. On the nights I cried myself to sleep, Jace would come into my room and hold me while I sobbed in his arms. Even to this day, when I’d have nightmares—which, thankfully, weren’t as common anymore—I’d wake up to find him curled up next to me in my bed.

  A slow smile spread across my lips, and in my mind I couldn’t help but think, It’s such a shame he’s gay. He would make the perfect boyfriend.

  “Hey,” I said, walking past him to the refrigerator. After searching the shelves for the orange juice, I finally found it hidden behind everything else on the top shelf and pulled it out.

  Jace peered at me over his shoulder and grinned wide before placing the two omelets he was making onto plates. “Hey, did you have fun on your day off yesterday?”

  “I did. It was nice to get out and do something other than work,” I admitted honestly. Grabbing a couple of glasses out of the cabinet, I poured us both some orange juice and sat down at the table. “I also didn’t spend it there by myself,” I added slyly.