Chapter 1
If some people believe a camera can steal your soul, then I just got robbed one thousand times over.
The flashes pop so continuously that I have to shield my eyes. The photographers who had staked out the side of the building are exuberant. I can practically see their mental high fives. They just got shots of the girl conducting a scandalous affair with big-time MMA fighter Colt “Gunner” McClure.
That girl would be me.
And it’s only been an hour since the public announcement of his engagement.
To someone else.
Colt snatches me up and tosses me over his beefy shoulder.
He jogs to the back door of the gym and yanks it open. We pass through, my head very nearly banging against the frame. The moment he turns the lock to ensure the photographers can’t follow us in, I start kicking.
“Put me DOWN!” I insist. I am not fond of being hauled around like a cavewoman. My fists pummel his back. But after getting into a fistfight with Colt’s new fiancée, Brittany, I’m pretty worn out.
“You done?” he asks.
I relax against him, my butt in the air. We might have been making out like teenagers a minute ago, but now I’m ready to bust his jaw.
He lets me down. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I ask, “What the hell was that?”
“That was someone leaving the back door unlocked after a press conference.” He runs his hands through his blonde hair in agitation.
“And grabbing me like a potato sack?”
“So they don’t see any more of your face than they already got.”
Even though I’m pissed as hell, I can’t help but watch the muscles of his arm flex with every movement. He’s one of the world’s best fighters, at least he was before his little meltdown a few months ago, and it shows in every sinew. His blonde hair is bright even in the low light of the back extension of the gym. If he looks at me, I will forget everything that just happened and get lost again in those hazel eyes.
But I have to stay mad.
Less than an hour ago, before the press stole my soul, and before we made out like teenagers, and before my catfight, Colt and Brittany announced their engagement to the press out in front of Buster’s Gym. That’s where I work, and where the happy couple trains as fighters.
Apparently some of the photographers hung around hoping for an exclusive shot.
And boy, did they get it.
“So, what happens now?” I ask. “Will that picture of you and me … kissing” — it’s hard to say it out loud — “Ruin everything between you and Brittany?”
“No, Brittany and I go way back.” He sits on one of the benches by the practice cage. “But she’s going to be very mad I messed up her big announcement.”
“Don’t you mean YOUR big announcement?”
Colt leans forward and drops his head in his hands. I’m acting mad, but really I am confused and lost. He told me to trust him, that he couldn’t explain the relationship between him and Brittany. But I can’t just let it go. It doesn’t matter what I feel about him. I can’t be kissing somebody else’s future husband.
I sit next to him and let the silence flow around us. It’s easy just being there, even if we have set off a media frenzy.
I already knew Brittany was seeing some other guy. I spotted her with a stranger a few nights ago. Well, I sort of stalked her down a back hallway. But still. Something about their situation isn’t right.
I screw up my courage to ask Colt the big question. “Is the engagement fake?”
He doesn’t answer right away, like he has to think about it. “Yes and no,” he finally says.
A non-answer. I let him think about it some more. Then I decide to drop my own bombshell. “She’s seeing someone else. I saw them kissing at the charity show.”
He lifts his head. “She was that indiscreet with Greg?”
So, he knows about her other man. And he doesn’t care. I could not be more confused. “I sort of followed them. No one else saw.”
“Okay, good.” He sighs. “This was bound
If some people believe a camera can steal your soul, then I just got robbed one thousand times over.
The flashes pop so continuously that I have to shield my eyes. The photographers who had staked out the side of the building are exuberant. I can practically see their mental high fives. They just got shots of the girl conducting a scandalous affair with big-time MMA fighter Colt “Gunner” McClure.
That girl would be me.
And it’s only been an hour since the public announcement of his engagement.
To someone else.
Colt snatches me up and tosses me over his beefy shoulder.
He jogs to the back door of the gym and yanks it open. We pass through, my head very nearly banging against the frame. The moment he turns the lock to ensure the photographers can’t follow us in, I start kicking.
“Put me DOWN!” I insist. I am not fond of being hauled around like a cavewoman. My fists pummel his back. But after getting into a fistfight with Colt’s new fiancée, Brittany, I’m pretty worn out.
“You done?” he asks.
I relax against him, my butt in the air. We might have been making out like teenagers a minute ago, but now I’m ready to bust his jaw.
He lets me down. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I ask, “What the hell was that?”
“That was someone leaving the back door unlocked after a press conference.” He runs his hands through his blonde hair in agitation.
“And grabbing me like a potato sack?”
“So they don’t see any more of your face than they already got.”
Even though I’m pissed as hell, I can’t help but watch the muscles of his arm flex with every movement. He’s one of the world’s best fighters, at least he was before his little meltdown a few months ago, and it shows in every sinew. His blonde hair is bright even in the low light of the back extension of the gym. If he looks at me, I will forget everything that just happened and get lost again in those hazel eyes.
But I have to stay mad.
Less than an hour ago, before the press stole my soul, and before we made out like teenagers, and before my catfight, Colt and Brittany announced their engagement to the press out in front of Buster’s Gym. That’s where I work, and where the happy couple trains as fighters.
Apparently some of the photographers hung around hoping for an exclusive shot.
And boy, did they get it.
“So, what happens now?” I ask. “Will that picture of you and me … kissing” — it’s hard to say it out loud — “Ruin everything between you and Brittany?”
“No, Brittany and I go way back.” He sits on one of the benches by the practice cage. “But she’s going to be very mad I messed up her big announcement.”
“Don’t you mean YOUR big announcement?”
Colt leans forward and drops his head in his hands. I’m acting mad, but really I am confused and lost. He told me to trust him, that he couldn’t explain the relationship between him and Brittany. But I can’t just let it go. It doesn’t matter what I feel about him. I can’t be kissing somebody else’s future husband.
I sit next to him and let the silence flow around us. It’s easy just being there, even if we have set off a media frenzy.
I already knew Brittany was seeing some other guy. I spotted her with a stranger a few nights ago. Well, I sort of stalked her down a back hallway. But still. Something about their situation isn’t right.
I screw up my courage to ask Colt the big question. “Is the engagement fake?”
He doesn’t answer right away, like he has to think about it. “Yes and no,” he finally says.
A non-answer. I let him think about it some more. Then I decide to drop my own bombshell. “She’s seeing someone else. I saw them kissing at the charity show.”
He lifts his head. “She was that indiscreet with Greg?”
So, he knows about her other man. And he doesn’t care. I could not be more confused. “I sort of followed them. No one else saw.”
“Okay, good.” He sighs. “This was bound
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