Winning Love Read online

  And what did Mac do?

  He winked. The man flipping winked. Gayle couldn’t stop a grin, and as the class started the last rotation facing the front of the class again, she joined him. She glanced over at him and his dimple creased his cheek. He looked so in the moment. Just free and not a care in the world, and it was the most breathtaking thing she’d ever seen.

  The song ended, and she couldn’t fight the disappointment. She could’ve wobbled with Mac all day. As the song transitioned to a slower one, the class did the cooldown, and then it was over.

  She wiped the sweat off her face and said, “I didn’t know you knew how to wobble.”

  “I didn’t.”

  So, he’d just been watching her to learn the steps. Bummer. “You picked that up pretty quickly.”

  He shrugged slightly, his lips curving downward. “Weren’t a lot of moves to learn. I used to do a lot of those types of dances. I can do Cotton-eyed Joe, Tush Push, and the Cupid Shuffle.”

  “Seriously?”

  “And that surprises you, why?”

  A brow shot up. “And you have to ask that question, why?”

  He smiled, but there was a trace of tightness to it. “It’s been a few years.”

  Ah. So this was a before thing. Sadly, she had a couple of those herself. The before-Gayle would’ve never gotten so down and dirty with the song. The after-Gayle believed in living in the moment. Looked like Mac had taken the completely opposite approach, but maybe he was ready to start doing some living again.

  “Well, you sure showed us women how it’s done.” She shoulder bumped him. “So…Zumba, it’s pretty freaking cool, right?”

  His smile stretched a bit more and he shook his head as he softly chuckled. “I’ll admit it. I had fun. Other than the wobble, it’s harder than it looks, that’s for sure. You make it look simple.”

  She cast him a sly glance. Maybe there had been a little watching her in there as well. “Checking out my moves. were you, handsome?”

  “Uh…”

  “It’s okay. I wanted you to.”

  He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Um.” He ran a hand over his head. “So what other types of things do you do to work out?”

  “Running and Zumba are really it.”

  “Oh, really?”

  The way he drew out the two words in a slow, challenging drawl caught her attention. She stopped, faced him, and put both hands on her hips. “Yes, really, but I’m always up for something new. What do you want to dish out?”

  He mimicked her stance as amusement softened his face. “Just wanting to return the favor. Lance’s barn. Tomorrow. Eleven o’clock.”

  She bit back a smile at having the invitation issued in the same blunt manner she had given him her dinner invite. “You’re on.”

  The gloves felt heavy on her hands as she hit the bag in front of her. What was her reward for taking Mac to do something fun yesterday?

  Torture.

  Seriously, the man was trying to torture her. What was supposed to be thirty easy seconds of hitting the bag felt like a damn eternity. The searing pain started in her knuckles, traveled up her arms, and settled in her shoulder blades until the entire length of her limbs and back were screaming in pure agony.

  Since they’d returned to Lance’s barn thirty minutes ago, Mac had been mean like this. First making her “warm up” by jumping rope. She hadn’t jumped rope since she was a kid, but Mac had made it look so damn simple, like he and that stupid rope were one, she’d figured it would be like riding a bike. Yeah-freaking-right.

  Seconds after she’d started, her calves had ignited into a fiery storm that had her wanting to beg for a time-out. Though breaks proved unnecessary, since she’d had plenty of those while untangling herself from the blasted rope every fifteen seconds. Mac hadn’t hidden his enjoyment at her ineptitude, either, which had earned him a thorough sticking out of her tongue. His laughter had boomed through the room, making the torture worth it—then.

  Not so much later, which had included way too many burpees—no one in the history of ever should have to do these evil things—drop squats—what was wrong with regular squats?—then he’d strapped some thingamajig around her waist that was attached to a flipping huge-ass weight, and made her run across the barn—these men were nuts—before shuffling her onto the bag.

  “Done.” He clicked a timer he held in his hand.

  She groaned and dropped her arms. “You’re a complete ass, you know that?”

  Mac grinned. “What? The poor girly-girl can’t keep up?”

  At having her words from earlier tossed back at her, she chuckled softly. “This girly-girl can think of a few better ways to work up a sweat than killing my arms.” She ripped off her gloves, tossed them on the ground, and walked the tips of her fingers across his forearm. “Come on, handsome, why don’t you show me some body-to-body combat?”

  Red crept into Mac’s face. God, he was so easy. With a grin, she dropped her hands and went over to the black mat covering the middle of the floor. “I’ve watched Lance train a few times. How about putting me in one of those holds and letting me squirm around?”

  “You’ve watched Lance train?”

  That was what he took from her suggestion? Jeez. “Skylar likes to watch him. I’ve sat in a couple of times.”

  Mac’s lips pressed together, then he shook his head. “Okay. Which move do you want to try?”

  She blinked. Holy crap. He was game. Quickly flipping through her limited knowledge of MMA, she decided to focus on the one that would get her pressed closest to Mac.

  “There’s one Lance did that was really interesting to watch,” she said, trying to keep an innocent expression in place as she delivered the rest of her description. “He wrapped his legs around the other guy’s head.”

  Mac’s eyes widened a fraction. “You want to try a triangle choke?” A croak cracked his voice and made her struggle to keep up the innocent charade.

  “Is that what it’s called? It looked…intense. Can you show me how it’s done?”

  The conflicted expression she’d seen a couple of times crossed his face. As though he wanted to, but didn’t, at the same time. She remained silent, letting him make the decision without pressure from her. If he said no, or tried to get her to do a different hold, she’d let him off the hook.

  “Okay. Lie on your back on the mat.”

  She had to stop herself from doing a giddy dance. The man was slowly warming up to her. When he’d completely thawed, she wanted the attraction he was fighting to be filled to the brim with all the naughty images she’d deliberately put in his head.

  She had every intention of reaping the benefit of all her hard work.

  Was he really going to do this?

  Mac shot a glance at the woman now lying on her back with her knees bent. Not once had he ever thought about the intimacy that came with this hold. He was an MMA fighter. He grappled. And grappling meant very close contact with his opponent. All he thought about in those moments was what his opponent was going to do to break out of his hold.

  Now? All he could think about was Gayle’s legs wrapped around his head.

  He wasn’t fool enough to believe she just happened to choose this submission hold out of thin air. She’d picked it on purpose, and again he found himself flamed by the silent challenge she’d tossed at him.

  Now that he’d agreed.

  What the fuck was he thinking?

  As he inhaled a small breath and released it, he paced back and forth at the edge of the mat.

  You can do this. Think of it as just a training exercise.

  “All right, first thing you need to know is the triangle choke comes in handy when you’re caught on your back and have your opponent punching you.”

  He swallowed but made himself drop to his knees in front of her.

  “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “Lance was on his back and his training partner was between his legs. Like this.” She parted her thighs and scooted forward.
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  Fuuuuck.

  He wasn’t completely inserted between her legs yet, more bordered by them, but for him to show her the move correctly, he’d have to get intimately close to a certain very appealing area. His breath locked in his lungs. He’d give his left nut right now to have on a cup. Anything other than her womanly center to rub against.

  She’s a dude. Just another guy you’re grappling with.

  As he moved his body deeper between her knees, the back of her thighs brushed against the top of his. His chest tightened more.

  Focus.

  “When your opponent throws a punch at you, his body will come forward,” he explained. “That’s when you grab the arm while wrapping one leg around his neck. Then you grab the shin of your other leg and pull it close to the opposite knee, locking the hold into place.”

  “Okay. Come at me.”

  He threw a fake jab toward the side of her head. She grabbed on with both arms, lowering him farther. One feminine leg latched around the back of his neck, pressing his cheek to the soft skin of her inner thigh while sliding his forearm straight up the warmth of her mound. Two tempting thighs clamped tightly around his face. She had him locked in.

  He expected her to immediately release him. Instead, she tugged the back of his head down a little farther, bringing him closer still to a forbidden area. And he realized she knew more about this hold than she’d let on. He hadn’t told her about holding his head down, which helped keep the opponent immobile. Though he was nowhere close to being in danger of losing consciousness—she didn’t have the strength to do that—he was in all kinds of danger of losing coherent thought.

  His face was just inches from her mound. The skin of her thighs burned into his cheeks. And he had the insane urge to break the weak hold and bury his face where she was damn near begging him to go. Then she suddenly released him, and a stuttered exhale shot from his mouth as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Fuck. He wasn’t going to be able to handle much more of this. He didn’t want this attraction to Gayle. He just wanted the fucking friendship. Why couldn’t he just have the friendship?

  “How was that?”

  “What?” He opened his eyes. Damn woman was still on her back with her legs spread wide before him. He could strangle her. He shoved to his feet and put some distance between them. “Not bad.”

  “My turn.”

  “For what?”

  “I want to know what it feels like to be in the lock. So wrap those legs around my head, handsome.”

  The image of Gayle’s face posed inches above his cock as he put her in the hold had lust slamming through his body and the aforementioned body part twitching in response. Trying to dislodge the alarming image to rid his body of its even more alarming reaction, he shook his head violently. That didn’t work. Fuck. He needed something more physical. He drove a fist into a bag, sending it spinning into the air. That helped—some.

  In his peripheral vision, Gayle propped up on her elbows, head tilted at an angle, studying him intently. As though she was seeing more than he wanted her to see. It was unnerving.

  “I’m not going to ask,” she said softly. “If or when you want to talk about it is up to you, but I’m a good listener, Mac…if you ever need an ear.”

  The use of his name and not the endearment she’d tagged him with had him shooting a glance at her. Sincerity was etched clearly on her face. She’d seen he’d freaked out and instead of some crazy innuendo, she’d offered him a friend.

  There was more to Gayle Matthews than a shocking mouth and a good time.

  “Lance hasn’t told you about me?” he asked quietly.

  “I make it a point not to pry.” She pushed to her feet. “I figure when a person is ready to share their darkest secrets, they will. All I know from Lance is you’re his friend and you fight. The rest needs to come from you. And when you’re ready, I’m willing to listen.” She looked down at her body, then started for the door. “I don’t know about you, but I stink. I need a shower.”

  Wow. Not only had she backed off, but she was giving him space and letting him save face. Lance was right. She was awesome.

  “Hey, Gayle?”

  She peered over her shoulder, brow arched.

  “Thanks. Not many people would do what you just did.”

  A soft smile curved her lips. “Nothing to thank. I’m very familiar with the look you get on your face. I don’t know what circumstances put yours there, but even crazy Gayle knows when to back off.”

  She was familiar with the look? How?

  As she started for the door again, he couldn’t stop himself from calling her name once more.

  Why couldn’t he just let her leave?

  And then he realized he didn’t want her to go.

  He ran his hands through his hair, unsure how to deal with the sudden insight.

  He did need space, but he also needed to know he’d see her again. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  She turned, and again her gaze felt like it was seeing deep into his soul. “I have a race.”

  Disappointment hit him. A telling emotion of how Gayle affected him, how much he liked being around her.

  “Want to come?” Gayle added.

  Did he? He studied the woman before him. Her gaze soft. Patient. Kind. “Don’t you need to pre-register for those things?”

  “I happen to be good friends with the coordinator. I think I can pull a few strings.”

  He wanted to snatch the offer she gave him without thought. That dangerous reaction pushed him to say, “Let me get back to you on that, okay?

  He needed to think things through first.

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you later, Mac.”

  He actually missed her endearment for him and hoped he hadn’t scared her away from using it. Once the door closed behind her, he sat down on a workout bench, braced his elbows on his knees, and hung his head. It’d been a very long time since he’d actually craved being around someone. He preferred to be alone. Alone meant no one depended on him. That was safe. No risk of failing someone else. He didn’t want to invite that back into his life. He’d done it once with tragic consequences.

  A creak came from the barn door. “I just saw Gayle— Hey, man, you okay?”

  Mac jumped to his feet, rubbing his forehead as he stared at the ground, trying to act like he was searching for something. He didn’t need Lance all up in his business. “Yeah. Fine. I had a jump rope. I can’t find it.”

  “It’s right there, dude.” He turned his head toward his friend. Lance was pointing just a few feet behind him with a classic look of what-the-fuck? on his face. Great. Now Lance thought he was going senile, too.

  Mac snatched up the jump rope. “Man, I think I need a nap.”

  “Zumba wear you out? Did Gayle make you wiggle those hips just a little too much yesterday?”

  At the mention of her name, he stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about Gayle,” shot out of his mouth before he could stop it.

  His friend’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

  Well, goddamn. He’d just handed that to Lance on a silver platter, hadn’t he? The last thing Mac needed to do was flip the fuck out like he had the other day. He pinned his friend with a warning glare. “Nothing happened.”

  “Bullshit.” He fisted his hands on his hips. “What did she do?”

  “She didn’t do anything,” Mac bit out between clenched teeth. Anger roiled in his gut at his friend’s persistence. Why the hell wouldn’t he just drop it?

  “Holy shit,” Lance muttered, realization dawning on his face as his arms fell slack to his sides. “She’s done it. She’s gotten under your skin.”

  “What the fuck, Lance? I’ve known the woman for a few days.”

  He didn’t want to think about how very deeply Gayle had gotten under his skin in that short span of time.

  His friend stared at him, then made a sucking noise with his teeth and gave a sharp nod. “Ally would be happy for you.”

 
Fucking hell! He didn’t want to talk about Ally either.

  “Jesus H. Christ, I don’t even know her,” Mac roared, fury erupting and completely taking control of him.

  Bellowing between fused teeth, he tossed over the bench, sending it crashing to the ground.

  “Yeah, and that’s why you’re going ape-shit.” Lance braced his fists on his hips again. “Be honest with yourself, for fuck’s sake. You like her.”

  Mac pointed a trembling finger at Lance. “I’m getting ready to knock the shit out of you.” He stormed toward the door. “Leave me the fuck alone, Lance.”

  “It’s okay to move on, Mac.” Lance’s words reached him just as his hand closed around the knob. “Ally wouldn’t want you to hold onto her like you have.”

  His hand reflexively tightened around the knob, then he spun back around. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think Ally and I didn’t have late night morbid conversations about moving on if we lost the other?” He took a step forward. “Well, we fucking did. I know exactly what Ally wanted for me.” But nowhere in any of those talks had there been a scenario of how to move past the guilt of failing her. The thought hit him suddenly and hard. He backed up and yanked the door open. Resentment churned in his gut and he blasted every bit of it at Lance. “So back the fuck off.”

  Chapter Four

  What the hell?

  As Mac followed Gayle through the gates of the Kansas Coliseum, he surveyed the line of black and orange tents set up around the perimeter of the stadium selling wares and food. Music blasted from two enormous speakers positioned outside a larger pavilion that housed a local radio station. Men, women, and children of all ages milled about, some in crazy costumes, others in regular running clothes. Everyone was laughing and having a great time. Mac, however, was having to take a moment to adjust. Gayle had definitely not been forthright about where she was taking him. This wasn’t a race—not any ordinary race, anyway.