Page 21 of Until You're Mine
Still, something in me reached for him.
It’s a friendly-type connection. It’s okay to be friends.
If I stopped fighting both sides of the connection coin, it’d help me to better keep myself in check. Right?
So I waited for Shane to look my way, planning on giving him a friendly wave. Like he’d said, it was pointless trying to avoid him anyway.
Or maybe not, because he certainly didn’t look my way.
And then I had to pretend I didn’t care, and that only added an irritated edge to the grouchiness my hangover had left me with.
Chapter Twelve
Shane
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me with the ponytails.As if it wasn’t hard enough to not look at Brooklyn already, and then she went and wore her hair like that.
A fist caught my chin and I stumbled back, trying to regain my bearings and stance. But before I could, Mac dove for my legs, taking me to the mat. A classic example of why you shouldn’t take your attention off your opponent for anything while in the cage. Even if theanythingwas fine as hell and had laughed in that way that traveled deep into your brain and settled there.
I turned my focus to the position I’d landed myself in, moving and punching until I’d closed the guard. My training kicked in, and I yanked down on his arm, tugged his neck to my chest with the other hand, and pushed my foot to his hip. Then I shot my free leg over and spun, locking him in a triangle choke.
“Stay on him, stay on him,” Blake yelled, and I squeezed tighter. When we sparred we kept our punches about 75-80 percent, although we got carried away now and then, especially after a punch or kick landed and pissed you off. But submissions were game on as long as we didn’t break limbs or deprive a guy of oxygen for too long.
Within a handful of seconds, he tapped out.
“Way to turn that takedown into a submission, Knox,” Blake said as I stood and then held out a hand to help Mac to his feet. The guy was fast and strong, but a bit green, and it was a good thing, or my distraction could’ve cost me more than a takedown.
The buzzer to signal the end of our sparring match rang, and I waited to see if Blake would have us go again or if we would switch up partners or do some drills.
Only his attention was on his daughter. Not that I had any experience with fatherly concern, but that was the vibe I got. There was another unnamed emotion in there that made me think something had happened during their dinner and it hadn’t been good.
Adam paused to talk to Brooklyn on his way out of the gym, and then I was scowling right along with her dad. She smiled at whatever he said, and a twinge of irritation went through me. He got a smile. Last week he’d also gotten a hug.
He’s been on Team Domination for six years, long enough that they’ve known each other for a while.Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It definitely wasn’t nearly as reassuring as I wanted it to be.
Adam waved at her and then pushed out the front door, and Brooklyn’s gaze slowly drifted in our direction. While I tried to be subtle about my staring, Blake didn’t. Her jaw locked and she quickly looked back down, confirming my theory about their dinner.
Blake let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Avoiding her was impossible, but last night I’d resolved to pull back, to not go out of my way to talk to her. The tension in her features made me want to find an excuse to do exactly that, and to see if I could find a way to cheer her up. Frankly, I’d wanted to go talk to her since the moment I stepped foot inside the gym. Since her brothers had been flanking her, it’d made it easier to stick to my goals. Without them there, they were getting fuzzy, the many reasons I’d decided to renew my resistance efforts hard to recall.
Half a day, and I already craved my next hit.
On autopilot, my eyes drifted back to her. I took in the purple-streaked ponytails that were in need of a good tug, her pretty face, and the way she wrapped her lips around the straw of her drink sent my mind diving deeper into the gutter.
When I heard the loud throat clearing, I jerked my attention back to the cage.
Shit.Blake Roth glared at me like a bug he was about to squash with his shoe. Excuses tumbled through my head, but not a single one of them would do anything but make me sound guilty as hell, so I charged on with another subject entirely. I lifted my fists and bounced on the balls of my feet. “We going again?”
My opponent gave me wide eyes that screamed,Shut up, bro. I’m about to pass out.
“Mac, go hit the weights. Knox, I think we better work on your blocking. You let that hook get you, and in the cage, that could mean lights out.”
Mr. “Bring the Wroth” himself put on gloves, and while I could hold my own, I didn’t want to square off with a guy who’d fought almost as long as I’d been alive. Even with the extra fifteen or so pounds I’d have to lose before a fight, he still had at least forty on me, and well, he’d caught me ogling his daughter.
For the next thirty minutes, I didn’t look at anything besides his gloves coming at me, over and over.And over.
Until I was sure that I’d never forget why I’d resolved to keep a certain amount of distance between myself and his daughter.
