Page 5 of Big Wild Fighter

Mom raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow, while Dad sets his paper aside entirely, his interest piqued.

“What’s going on?” Dad asks. “You finally get that raise you deserve?”

“Not exactly,” I say, sitting down across from him. “I, uh...met someone.”

The room goes still for a second before my mom whirls around, spatula in hand. “Excuse me? You what?”

“It’s not like that,” I insist, but my face is already warming. “He’s just...someone I met at work.”

Dad narrows his eyes. “Who is he?”

I sigh, deciding it’s better to just rip the bandage off. “Marlon Henderson.”

Dad’s jaw drops. He looks like he’s just been told he won the lottery. “The Marlon Henderson? MMA legend, three-time heavyweight champion, the guy who broke Morales’ winning streak?”

I grin at his enthusiasm. “That’s the one. He invited me to hang out tomorrow night.”

“No joke,” he breathes, shaking his head. “I’ve been watching that guy for years. You’re telling me he just walked into Vito’s?”

“Pretty much,” I reply with a laugh. That reminds me that I have to ask Marlon what brought him to Cherrywood Village in the first place. It’s not the kind of place you just stumble into.

“Well, I hope we get to meet him someday,” Dad says, his excitement barely contained. “The man’s a legend.”

Mom sets her spatula down and crosses her arms, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Speaking of meeting him...Grace, darling, do you have the proper undergarments for tomorrow night?”

“Mom!” I sputter, nearly choking on my water.

“What?” she says, feigning innocence. “You never know when you’ll need to be prepared. Lace is always a good choice, by the way.”

“Can we not?” I groan, burying my face in my hands as Dad bursts out laughing.

“I’m just saying!” she calls over her shoulder as she goes back to cooking.

But her comment sticks with me, even after dinner, even after I head home. By the time I get out of the shower the next day, it’s like her voice is on repeat in my head.

Lace. Always a good choice.

Standing in front of my dresser, I hesitate for a second before pulling out the lacey black bra and matching panties I’d bought on my way home earlier. I slip them on, feeling a little ridiculous and a lot self-conscious. To balance it out, I throw on a pair ofcomfy sweatpants and a cropped hoodie, with a jacket over it to fight the cold.

I glance at my reflection in the mirror. It’s casual enough to not look like I’m trying too hard, but underneath? Well, I feel kind of...sexy.

Grabbing my keys, I head out the door, my nerves buzzing the whole drive to Marlon’s hotel. When I pull into the lot, I text him.

Me: I’m here.

The reply comes almost instantly.

Marlon: Be right down.

As I sit in my car, I fidget with the zipper of my jacket, my nerves ramping up with every second. The hotel is quiet this time of night, with only a few cars scattered across the lot, their headlights reflecting off the slick pavement from the earlier rain. The air feels colder than usual, biting even through the layers I’ve thrown on.

A few moments later, the glass doors at the hotel entrance slide open, and there he is. Marlon steps out, jacket slung over one broad shoulder, his relaxed stride radiating confidence. He spots me immediately, and his grin is enough to send warmth spreading through me despite the chill in the air.

“Hey,” he greets, leaning down to my window. His voice is smooth and warm, with a slight rasp that sends my heart racing.

“Hey,” I reply, trying not to sound like a total idiot.

He opens the passenger door for me, gesturing with a tilt of his head. “C’mon. Let’s get out of the cold.”

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